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He couldn’t afford to languish in here for weeks on end. He had to get fit, recuperate, and little things like physical therapy would need to be done behind closed doors and over an extended period of time. I didn’t doubt he was paying for knee replacements, but again, time was of the essence.
With the biggest barracuda down, it was only a matter of time before smaller ones came to nip at him in his weakened state.
I had no pity in my gaze when I glanced at him, and Inessa didn’t seem to be that sad either as she cast him a single look before whispering, “Cammie!”
So, this was the sister who had fled home, turned into a clubwhore for, ironically enough, the MC with ties to us, and who was, technically, a Bratva princess just like Inessa.
I would have probably been married to her if Camille hadn’t been such a letdown for her father, and while the other sister was beautiful, she didn’t have that special something that Inessa possessed. She was more my age though, and that was the only thing I wished was different.
The eleven-year age gap wasn’t terrible, neither was it ideal. Especially when she was as young as she was, and deep inside, I was old. So fucking old.
The two sisters hugged, even though it seemed awkward, and Victoria, the youngest, hurled herself into Inessa’s arms the second that awkward embrace was over. She was only thirteen or so, but they all had a maturity about them that was undeniable.
I recognized it.
It was the same with young boys in our world. At nine, or thereabouts, it was like the curtains were ripped from our windows to reveal the real world.
It sucked.
And in all honesty, I hoped for better for my sons if I ever had any, but it was a fact of life.
When Victoria had squeezed Inessa hard enough to make her grimace, both sisters glared at me, then their father.
“I think I’d like to speak to your father alone,” I rumbled.
Victoria stiffened at that. “What right do you—”
“Don’t argue, Vicky,” Inessa chided, tapping her nose. “Do as Eoghan says.”
“He’s not my husband,” she muttered rebelliously, making my lips twitch.
“Nor is he mine,” Cammie rasped, eying me warily.
“Regardless of those sorry truths, I’m Inessa’s, and I’m here to speak with your father.”
“The nurses don’t want him upset.”
“Leave us,” Vasov rumbled, and there was exhaustion lacing each word as he sucked in a deep, pain-filled breath.
Considering I knew the pain Aidan was in, and that I’d been with him along every step of his recovery, the irony was I knew what Vasov had ahead of him.
I didn’t envy him.
Aidan had it bad enough with a fractured patella… I’d purposely shattered Vasov’s.
Nor did I feel guilty about it.
The sisters traipsed out, but as Inessa went to join them, I grabbed her hand and tugged her to my side.
I wasn’t sure why when this was men’s business, and her curious gaze definitely questioned my judgment, but I ignored her, and instead, focused on her father.
“Vasov,” I greeted, rather unnecessarily.
“O’Donnelly.”
Inessa’s hand tightened on mine, and I sensed her confusion, as well as her concern.
But I felt neither.
