Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 80942 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 405(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80942 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 405(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
Both father and son get busy building the war zone and I barely help. I really don’t like anything that has to do with assembling. My mind is simply not wired that way. However, I love being a part of this little family and having the privilege of watching Adrian and Jeremy up close and witnessing their bond.
It’s a subtle one, only visible when they’re doing an activity together, like right now. They’re both quiet and they understand each other without talking sometimes.
While Adrian is too busy to have a lot of time for Jeremy, he’s there when it matters. And our son is such an understanding angel. He never bothers Adrian or demands things from him. However, he always looks up to him and my husband is never too busy to look back.
The view of Adrian in his casual shirt and pants, muscles relaxed and face serene while holding Jer on his lap, is an experience. I love watching him this way, out of his office and away from his mafia business, and just…a father.
I could watch him like this for an eternity, even though I’m slightly jealous of the effortless connection he has with our son.
“Can you please give me that piece, Mommy?” Jeremy points at the one beside me.
I pass it to him and he grins, snuggling in Adrian’s lap. I continue observing them for a bit, fingering the Lego container. “Why did you bring us to Russia of all places?”
Adrian remains in his element, assembling a few pieces together. “Jeremy needed to come here sooner or later.”
“Any particular reason?”
“He’s Russian and needs more contact with his roots.” He turns Jeremy to face him. “Malysh, this is where your grandfather and ancestors were born. We come from Yaroslavl and have many generations. You’re the last member.”
Our son’s eyes widen. “I am?”
“Yes, you are.”
“Thank you, Papa.”
“He’s American-born,” I say.
“Doesn’t make him American.”
I roll my eyes but choose to probe instead of focusing on that. “Is that what your parents did to you, too?”
“Did what?”
“Bring you to Russia.”
His movements falter on a Lego piece and then he snaps it in place. “My father often brought me here, especially for Christmas.”
“How about your mother?”
“Not before she married my father.”
“Did you…come here with your stepmother?”
He nods once and I can see the shadow that darkens his expression whenever his past is brought up. “Remember when you asked me what the map of Russia tattoo means?”
I nod frantically. “You said it’s because of a vacation you were never able to have.”
“Yes. I was supposed to come here with Aunt Annika, but she passed away before I had the chance.”
“Is that why you brought us here?”
“Probably.” The word is quiet, low, as if it weighs on him.
I wrap my arm around his bicep and lean my head against the hard ridge of his muscles. “We’d never leave you, Adrian.”
He stares down at me with molten gray eyes. “Really?”
“I promise,” I murmur, then brush a quick kiss on his cheek.
Just when I pull back, he captures my lips in a slow, all-consuming kiss that steals my breath and apparently my logic, because for a brief second, I forget Jeremy is there.
I place a hand on his chest and push him away. He releases my lips with a low growl.
Jeremy stares at us with a grin, and even as my cheeks burn, I can’t help but grin back.
Because this moment? This peace? It feels like the beginning of our happiness.
If only the ghosts from the past don’t catch up to us.
18
Lia
Our vacation is surprisingly…warm.
Despite the freezing weather and the ice storms, the days we spend in the Russian countryside are so full of fire. And strangely, that isn’t entirely due to the lash of Adrian’s punishments at night or how he lights my body on fire every chance he gets.
It’s the fact that we’re spending uninterrupted time together and with our son. The fact that no work is keeping him from us. The fact that we built a snowman together before Jeremy and I ganged up on Adrian in a snowball fight.
We lost, by the way, and it was the best loss I’ve ever experienced. Jer and I ended up laughing until we snorted as Adrian buried us under his merciless snowballs.
I love seeing my husband carefree, without the endless weight that’s usually furrowing his features or making him overanalyze everything.
Ever since we stepped foot in Russia a week ago, he seems to have left all his burdens back in the States and is giving me the one thing I’ve always wanted—him.
I often fantasized about stealing him away from his work and demanding that he choose me over his endless Bratva responsibilities. But I’ve stopped due to my stupid pride.
And fear.
I was too afraid of Adrian’s nature to ever embrace him fully.
In truth, I still am.