Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 75209 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75209 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
“I’m not that tired, though. I like these late-night convos.” I stick my toes out from under the blanket because I’m overheating. He helps me by tugging the rest of the blanket off when my toe gets stuck.
“I didn’t say we had to go to sleep. We can keep talking.”
I love the feel of his warm, strong body beneath mine. I lift my leg and crook my knee so I’m sort of straddling him. It’s as cozy in this small, utilitarian room as it would be in a much larger room with a crackling fire and the soft glow of lights.
“Tell me about you and your siblings. I want to hear.” I cozy up to him. Having a large, bustling family and getting into mischief with siblings is one of my fantasies.
“I didn’t have much of a relationship with mine. My sister was sent away to some kind of Russian boarding school.”
“Why were you the only one at home?”
“My mother put her foot down. I was the baby, the youngest. She begged my father to let me stay home with her, and by then, he had a mistress and only wanted to keep my mother pacified.”
“Ahh.”
I lean toward him and intertwine my fingers with his. “I’ve wondered what it was like coming from a large family. Did you know your aunt growing up?”
He shakes his head. “No. Her getting me a job with your father was a way of getting in my family’s good graces again.”
“Interesting. Making up for lost time?”
“Exactly. I spent much more time with my siblings than anyone else. My father was often away for work, and my mother was a bit overwhelmed with so many of us at home. My older brother and I took charge frequently.”
“No wonder you’re so bossy,” I tease.
He only lifts a shoulder. “It comes naturally, perhaps. My father had a saying. ‘The older brother is the father’s right hand.’ The older ones are often expected to take on many of the responsibilities and leadership roles within the family.”
“Can you tell me what that was like?”
Markov’s eyes soften, a hint of nostalgia flickering across his features. He shifts slightly, turning more towards me, his voice deep and thoughtful. “It wasn’t easy, Vera. I had to be both a brother and sometimes a father figure. It meant a lot of responsibility, and discipline was a big part of it. My father had rigid expectations.”
I love hearing this human side of him. I love how he talks with such love for his family. I want to meet them.
“Could you share a story from those days? Something that really sticks out to you.”
He chuckles, the sound low and resonant, then pauses, searching his memories. “Alright, there was this one time,” he begins, his gaze drifting off as he recounts the tale. “My younger sister had this wild spirit, always getting into trouble. One day, she decided to climb the largest tree in our yard, the one my mother forbade her to touch. I caught her just as she was about to reach the first huge branch that hung over the ground with nothing beneath it.”
I gasped. I could just imagine a mischievous little girl defying her mother and hoping to prove to herself she could do it.
His hands gesture vividly as he speaks, painting the picture for me. “What did you do?”
“I could have scolded her and made her come down and face a punishment. But we had enough of that with my family. Instead, I climbed up there with her and positioned myself between her and the ground in case she fell. She didn’t, though. My mother called her her little monkey. I asked her why she disobeyed Mom and why she had to do something that thrilled her.”
I hang on his every word. I love hearing him share these stories with me. “What did she say?” I ask, my voice a whisper. I can almost see him with that same straight-laced look about him, though maybe a boyish softness still clinging to him.
He smiles. “We made a deal. She promised to come to me if she felt the urge for an adventure, and I’d find a safe way to do it together. It was a moment of understanding, of connecting with her not just as her older brother in charge, but someone who cared about her.”
I have a realization. Markov would make a good father.
I reach out and gently brush his arm. “That’s. . . really beautiful, Markov. You showed her love and guidance, not just discipline. It’s no wonder you’re so dedicated now. You’re definitely a natural-born leader—bossy but in the best possible way.” I kiss the underside of his jaw, rough with a hint of stubble.
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“It makes sense to me that you’d be attracted to a certain. . . flavor in the bedroom.”