Page 77 of Anton

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

ANTON

I stand outside Kirill’s front door with two guards watching me from the side, and I wonder if I should knock or get back in my car and pretend this never happened.

The second option makes more sense. Probably more than anything else I’ve done today.

The door opens before I can make that decision, and Sloane stands there with one palm on the frame, her brows lifting the instant she sees me.

“Hey, Anton.”

“Sloane.”

Her gaze flicks past my shoulder, then back to me. “Uh…Kirill isn’t here.”

“I know. I need to talk to you.”

She stares at me like my brothers did earlier, and if I didn’t regret this before, I sure as hell do now.

“Me? Really?”

Chyort vozmi. Damn it. Everyone is going to find out about this, aren’t they?

“I should go.” I turn.

“No, wait,” she calls.

I stop, blowing out a rough breath. When I face her again, her mouth softens.

“Sorry. I was just surprised. Please come in.”

A small head appears beside her hip, and Milo, her six-year-old son, stares up at me with a friendly grin. A bit too friendly for my taste. “Hi.”

I look down at him and give a single nod. He keeps smiling like he expects more from me, and I look back at Sloane, begging to be saved.

She presses her lips together, then steps aside to let me in. “Let’s go to the kitchen. Go play, baby.”

The kid ignores her and follows beside us, staring up at me the entire way.

This is going to be worse than I thought.

Lev sits at the kitchen counter with a bowl of cereal in front of him, spoon in hand, and his quiet gaze finds me as soon as we enter.

“Lev.” I give him a short nod.

He studies me for a bit, then returns to his cereal.

Good. At least one person in this house understands the value of not overcomplicating a greeting.

Sloane circles the counter and braces her hands along the edge. “So, what can I help you with?”

I stand there with Milo hovering nearby and Lev still eating his cereal, knowing him well enough to realize he’s listening to every word.

I draw up the words in my head, already regretting them. “What I’m about to ask stays between us.”

Surprise flickers across Sloane’s face, but she nods. “Of course.”

Here goes nothing.