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My printsessa.

The screen lit up with Yelena’s face. Her chestnut curls fell wildly about her face, and she had flour on her cheek.

“Papa!” Her eyes filled with tears. “There you are.”

“Da.” My voice came out rougher than I wanted. Her smile softened it. She had that effect. She could fold my edges like paper and make me thin and manageable.

For a second, I saw her as the child who used to hide behind the curtains and read books by flashlight, the girl whom I’d taught to swim and ride a bike.

“Are you on your way yet?” She frowned. “Where is Yuriy?”

I cleared my throat. “Yelena, why didn’t you book a separate car for Orlov?”

“Because it’s such a waste. You both came in on the same flight.”

I turned my head toward the window. Yuriy stood outside on the curb, head bent over a phone, a little plume drifting from the corner of his mouth. He was vaping, a thin blue cloud forming around his head. He looked ordinary, vulgar. No suit jacket, just the generic T-shirt, a biker jacket, and that damn spider tattoo twitching in the collar.

“I see.”

“It’s not a problem, is it? Because you both promised us you buried the hatchet and could tolerate each other for two weeks. That’s the only reason Zasha and I agreed to you spending Christmas with us.”

I clenched my teeth. We were bound to kill each other during the ride. How could I explain to my son-in-law that I had to bury his annoying brother along the way?

“Papa, Zasha and I”—her voice dipped—“you weren’t there when we got married, but we want you to be a part of our lives now that we have a baby on the way. You’re the ones who raised us. Our baby will need their grandfather and uncle in their lives, but not if it means bloodshed.”

In just a few weeks, Yelena would give birth to her first child. Putting up with Yuriy would be worth it to see my girl being a mother. I could suffer through a car ride and two weeks with Orlov under the same roof.

“We get that it’s…awkward,” she said quickly, eyes earnest. “I know the history between our families, but there has been bloodshed on both sides. At some point, it has to end.”

The old arguments rose up. The betrayals, the elopement like a knife in my ribs, the wedding I’d been robbed of. I could have walked away. I had reasons. I had a lifetime of reasons. But across the screen, Yelena clenched her jaw, and underneath it, a steel I’d not seen in a long time. The stubbornness she got from me.

Her eyes clouded for a second. “I miss you, Papa,” she said quietly.

My throat closed. “Lena⁠—”

“Can you do this for me, Papa?” she said, all soft and dangerous. More dangerous than if she’d argued.

I wanted to refuse, but instead I looked at the vapor puffing from Orlov’s mouth, at the man who could—if he chose—ruin this for all of us with a flick of his thumb.

Would he comply and be on his best behavior? I doubted it. If I could push him to be the one at fault, then they would send him packing, and we could spend the rest of the holiday without him.

I closed my hand around the phone like it was an oath. “For you,” I said to the screen. “I’ll get along with him.”

Yelena’s face split into that laugh she’d had as a child when I’d pretended to be a monster and then fed her pancakes. “Papa! Thank you. I can’t wait for you to get here.”

My gut twisted from the uncertainty of whether I could live up to my promise. Two weeks with Yuriy Orlov would be hell, but if I could prove to my daughter that he was the one incapable of keeping the peace, then at least I would have kept my word and Orlov would be out of the picture.

All I needed was to last longer than him.

2

YURIY

YURIY

Uv got some explaining to do, little bro.

Vape tucked in the palm of my hand, I hit Send on my phone and waited as my brother typed back a message.