Page 66 of Fractured Empire

I wish that they never had to miss me, but responsibilities of everyday life make that impossible. Even if I hadn’t been the second-born Moretti son and inherited such a high-level position, I would have things to do daily. Even if I was Emilio, who represented the family in the public eye as some kind of socialite philanthropist, I would have days where I couldn’t see my kids.

It’s a brutal reality of being a working parent that you never truly get used to. There’s always going to be a voice in the back of your head telling you that you’re not doing enough for the little humans that you care so much for. You can’t spend every waking minute with them, and even when you have extra time to be around them, you overthink moments of it.

Could you have done something more fun? More meaningful?

Could you have used a softer tone when reprimanding bad behavior?

Could you have been more enthusiastic when they showed you something exciting?

Were you in a bad mood from a stressful week? Could your kids sense it?

Being a parent is a hell that only other parents can understand, and not even every parent can understand. Some people have kids and treat them worse than a pet goldfish they accidentally won at the fair. But if I start thinking of that now, I’ll be in an even more foul mood.

“Leon?” Katya asks, sliding out of her chair to come closer. Her head is slightly tilted as she approaches me and her lips are turned down in concern. “Are you okay?”

“Long day,” I reply gruffly, forcing a tight smile. “I’ll be fine.”

“I’m sorry…” The space between us is small enough that I can breathe in her sweet, cinnamon scent and it brings a warmth to my chest as I take a deep breath. “I didn’t mean to make it worse⁠—”

“Make it worse?” I shake my head in disbelief. “You haven’t. You’re the only reason I remained sane today. Knowing the boys were with you, having a good time and staying safe was everything, Katya.”

“Are you sure?” She licks her lips.

“Positive.”

A beat of silence.

“Leon?”

“Yes?”

“Can I try something?” Her question is vague, but the way her gaze drops to my lips is clear.

You can try anything you want with me.

Testing the waters to see if I’m reading her correctly, my hands extend forward slowly, seeking her waist. My fingers brush against her bare skin and her breath catches but she remains utterly still. Her skin is so soft and warm that my hands act on instinct, closing around her to soak up the feeling of her body.

“You can do whatever you want, Katya,” I tell her, my face hovering above hers as I suddenly pull her against me.

She rises on her tiptoes, and her height grows a little taller. Feeling her breath mingle with mine and watching as her pupils slowly dilate, her hips touch mine. She’s soft and pliable against my toned, rough muscles. Her curves are small to match her naturally slim frame, but she’s got fleshy hips and her stomach isn’t hard despite being flat.

Her hands are suddenly on my biceps, and I’m surprised to find that she flexes them, feeling my strength with a tight squeeze. She’s a bold little thing, or perhaps a nervous one, seeking to be tethered to me for stability.

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do,” I tell her, looking into her eyes as she makes no move to press further. My wife breathes out shakily, and I wonder if I should release her. “Katya⁠—”

The sound of her name seems to snap something inside her, and she slams her eyes shut, tugging me forward by my arms as she does. Our lips meet in a controlled crash, slamming together not hard enough to hurt, but with enough force to make me groan. A little sound gets caught in her throat on contact, but she doesn’t flinch or pull away. No, she melts into our connection.

My fingers dig into her back, pulling her closer as our mouths move. It’s not a perfect or dreamy kiss. It’s raw and unpracticed, full of curiosity and something akin to desire. My stomach stirs with primal need, and I have to hold myself back from picking her up and putting her on this counter to fucking devour her.

She tastes as sweet as she smells, and it’s almost too much.

Just as I contemplate going further, Katya pulls herself away hard.

“I’m sorry,” she croaks, looking dazed as she steps back, forcing herself free of my hold on her waist.

“Don’t be sorry⁠—”

“You want us to focus on the kids,” she says, the reminder like a bucket of cold water being poured over my head. “I didn’t mean to get lost in the moment. I wanted to make your day better. I thought…I’m sorry.”