Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 86242 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86242 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
I remember the last time we fought over them—sharp words, tempers flaring. I backed her against the wall and kissed the fight out of her, then did every stitch of damn laundry in the house while she watched, smug and beautiful.
Ruthie’s voice cuts through the memory.
“Trash is full,” she says over her shoulder as she leaves the room. “Take it out on your way out. I’m cleaning the fridge; you can handle the trash.”
I grunt but don’t reply. Instead, I salute her back. I’ll do it.
I grab clothes out of the drawer and put them on top of the dresser. “Here’s my card,” I tell her, taking it out of my wallet.
“On second thought, keep it,” she says, still whispering. “Use it for a haircut. Maybe even shave while you’re at it.”
I raise an eyebrow at her.
“My sister liked you clean-shaven,” she whispers. Her voice shakes. It hits me in the chest, bright and honest.
“Yeah.” I turn away. “She did.”
Ruthie leaves, and I get changed and run my fingers through my too-long hair.
I don’t shave. I bend and give Luka a kiss on the top of his tousled head before I go.
“He wakes up grumpy. Make him pee. Don’t give him any juice until he eats.”
“Are you giving me orders?”
“Who, me?” I splay a hand across my chest. “Never. How long are you staying?”
She swallows hard and looks away, turning back to the stove. “As long as you need me. Shift starts at six p.m., and I need to get home to get ready for it.”
I nod. “I’ll send someone to relieve you much sooner than that. And I’ll interview more nannies today.”
She looks over at me, her eyes welling with tears and her lower lip trembling. I can’t help it. I walk over to her and reach for her to give her a big hug. She fits in my arms and rests her head on my chest, but she doesn’t cry.
“I miss her,” she whispers. “It’s hard being here. I’m sorry. It’s why I haven’t come.”
I can’t help myself. I kiss the top of her head.
Why did I do that?
Ruthie freezes as if she doesn’t know how to respond.
“I know. You don’t have to stay. I can take Luka to the Kopolovs; someone will be there.” They’re my extended family now.
She shakes her head. “No, I miss him too. I want to see him. I need to. I’m sorry, Vadka.”
It’s right around then that I realize I’m still holding her. That she smells good, and she’s curvy and pretty and… vulnerable.
Like me.
I let her go like she’s on fire.
Step back. Turn away hard.
“I’ll be back as soon as I can,” I say, the door slamming shut behind me.
Grief makes people do crazy things.
I leave before I do something I regret.
Chapter 4
VADKA
As soon as I get to the bike, it feels as if a weight’s been lifted. Luka’s nanny was a middle-aged woman who taught him to sit at the table politely and chew with his mouth closed. But she was stern and a little detached, and even though I knew Luka to be safe, he cried every time I left.
He’ll be thrilled to see Ruthie when he wakes up. He loves her.
My phone connects to the Bluetooth on my helmet, revealing so many missed calls and texts from Rafail, I cringe.
He’s gonna kick my ass.
He might be my best friend, but Rafail does not fuck around when it comes to the brotherhood. I ought to know. I’m one of the few members who wasn’t born into the Kopolov family by blood. We’ve been friends since childhood, long before his parents died and he became the guardian to his siblings before he was barely an adult himself.
When we were just kids, neither of us could’ve imagined the way we’d both face the kind of loss you never fully recover from.
I hit the button and call him.
“Where the fuck have you been?” he growls.
“Fell asleep. I didn’t realize my phone was dead.”
I hear him blow out a breath on the other side of the line. When he lowers his voice and gets calm, heads are about to roll. I grit my teeth.
“Vadka. We talked. I can’t let this continue.” I can almost imagine him shaking his head on the other side of the line. “I swear to god, brother, you fuck up like this again, and I’ll demote you.”
Demotion in the Bratva is a punishment worse than death. I’d rather die than face the embarrassment.
“It won’t happen again, brother. I’m sorry.”
He sighs. “Ruthie’s at the house?”
“Yeah. She text you?”
“Yeah. Alright. Don’t come to the house. Meet me at Black Line. We have shit to go over, and it’ll be more fastidious that way.”
“Got it.”
I’m only a few minutes away.
I park my motorcycle in the Owner spot and tuck my helmet under my arm before I check my phone. Nothing from Ruthie.