Total pages in book: 49
Estimated words: 47716 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 239(@200wpm)___ 191(@250wpm)___ 159(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 47716 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 239(@200wpm)___ 191(@250wpm)___ 159(@300wpm)
Ana flinched.
“You want the truth, dushka, here it is. And it isn’t very pretty. Is our house, cars, and things bought with money? Absolutely. Do I have fifteen offshore accounts safeguarding millions? You’re goddamn right. Have I done a lot of bad things? Yes. I don’t deny this, Ana. It’s who I am. But it’s not who you are.”
“I’m a part of you.”
“But you’re not me,” Anton stated firmly. “And I work hard, just like your mother. I have legitimate businesses that don’t just run their goddamn selves. I put in ten hour days behind a desk which is more than I can say for some of those kid’s parent’s attending that godforsaken school. I don’t cheat on my wife, I’ve never hurt my children, and you are provided for in the only way I was taught to do so. This is me, Ana.
“Despite what others might think, there is no such thing as clean or dirty money in this world,” Anton continued, unfazed. “There is just money. It smells the same, spends the same, and is counted the same. That school right there—they take my money just like everybody else’s. The government? They take my taxes pillowed in from illegal accounts without even a question. Money is money.”
“I know.”
“So why the fists, dushka? If you know all this, why attack her for something she can’t hurt you with?”
“Because you’re mine, Papa. And she doesn’t know.”
A déjà vu sensation crept over Anton.
“Well, then ...”
How was he supposed to respond to that?
“Weak people hit, Ana,” Anton said softly.
“Mmhmm, I’ll remember that next time.”
Anton grinned but hid it easily enough. “Do that.”
“My hand hurts,” Ana said.
“Yeah, let’s go get that fixed.”
*
Anton stared out the window of his office, but he wasn’t seeing anything. Just flickers of memories—a little girl with black hair and brown eyes.
“Jersey, then?” Anton asked gruffly.
“Huh?” Koldan glanced up from his clenched fists in his lap.
For a brief moment, Anton let a smile crack his stony expression. Anton knew why the kid’s hands were clenched and hidden in his lap. It was better to hide your fear than try to pretend like you didn’t have any at all and fail.
Koldan was a good kid. Young at only twenty-three, sure, but good. Anton wasn’t sure how much influence Adrik had managed to have regarding his only son, but even with the Bratva roots and cocky fucking attitude, Koldan was good.
Anton wouldn’t turn the kid away for anything, not now. Not after everything.
“Jersey,” Anton repeated, his tone clearing of emotions. “That’s where you’re going to go after you marry her, right?”
“How did—”
“That’s why you’re here, Koldan. To ask me if you can propose. I’m not a stupid man and you’re a decent one. So, you’ve been together for a little over two years. I’ve seen her apartment and half of the shit inside is yours. Her name is tattooed on the inside of your left arm right below the elbow.”
Koldan glanced down at his arm, blinking.
“So, yes,” Anton continued, swallowing back the rising sadness. “I know why you’re here. And I asked if Jersey is where you’re going to go after.”
“It’s my home.”
“But it’s not hers.”
“Her home is with me,” Koldan murmured.
Now it is, Anton thought, a crack splintering through his soul.
It used to be with Anton.
This was what happened when you had children. Or rather, when a man had a daughter.
They left eventually.
It hurt. So badly.
And when a man put everything he had into his daughter, a piece of him left with her when she went. Anton didn’t know if he was ready to give up that piece of him yet. He didn’t have a choice.
“I want to marry her,” Koldan said quietly. “And I really want you to want it to be me who loves her the way she’s supposed to be.”
“I don’t want it to be anyone,” Anton answered honestly.
Of course, he didn’t. Ana had always been his. Every time a boy came into the picture—which really, hadn’t been often for his girl—Anton barely managed to hold himself back from breaking the man’s face. He burned red hot inside, wondering how that man would treat his girl, if he would love her like she was supposed to be loved, or if he even did at all.
Nobody could love his daughter like Anton did.
But they could love her differently, he knew. A better way—their way. It took Anton a lot to get to that realization, but it was there. Still fucking sucked, too.
“But I don’t get a say anymore, Koldan. For the record, I am happy it’s you, though.”
“Jersey isn’t that far,” Koldan added, shrugging.
“Far enough.”
“I’ve spent too much time away as it is.”
“I know,” Anton said, sighing.
Koldan was right. He had spent too much time over the last couple of years away from his father’s Bratva. It was hard to keep your successor appearing as a leader to your men when your heir wasn’t around to do the shit he needed to. Koldan went back and forth from Brighton Beach to Jersey so much he might as well live out of a damn suitcase.