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It’s nearly one in the morning when I pull into the driveway at my brother’s huge house. The mansion-like facade is lit up. The hedges are beautifully manicured, and as I set my booted foot on the white gravel, there’s not a dead leaf or twig to be seen.
I open the passenger door and lean down to pick up my niece.
“No, don’t, I can walk—”
But I’ve already gathered her into my arms. Her warm, sweet scent washes over me as I pull her close against my chest. I’m going to have my fill of holding her tonight. I’ve been aching for this for too long.
When we reach the front door, I lean down so my niece can unlock it, and then I’m standing in the marble hall for the first time in two years. I stop just inside the door and look down at Zenya. She’s gazing up at me, her beautiful blue eyes filled with wariness and confusion.
I can tasteusin the air that we’re breathing.
I feel like I’m home, and my lips drift toward hers.
Zenya sucks in a soft breath and her fingers tighten on my shoulders.
Troian’s voice calls down the hall from the lounge. “Zenya, is that you?”
My niece and I stare at each other, and I wait, one eyebrow raised, for her to announce that I’m here. When she doesn’t say anything, I murmur, “Go on, Zenya. Tell your father where you’ve been and who you’ve been with.”
She shakes her head slowly, her eyes narrowing. “If you tell him what happened tonight, I will never forgive you.”
I smile slowly at her.
I won’t.
Not tonight.
Not yet.
My plan has to unfold step by step. By the time Troian finally finds out that Zenya’s pregnant with my baby and adores me with all her heart, I’ll have his entire empire in the palm of my hand.
Zenya puts her head on one side, considering me. “Then again, maybe I’ll tell Dad right now. Have you thrown out of this house—again. That is, if he doesn’t shoot you for touching me.”
Oh, she’d expose us, would she? I grin wickedly at her. “Go right ahead and tell him how you came all over your uncle’s—”
“Zenya!” Troian shouts.
“Why doesn’t he just come out here himself instead of shouting like an asshole?” I growl, stalking down the hall with Zenya in my arms.
When I round the corner, I stop dead.
I even take a second look around the room, because the man sitting in that armchair can’t be my brother. What’s left of his hair has turned white and his cheeks are sunken and wasted. His presence has been diminished along with his size. Claw-like hands clutch the arms of the chair.
There’s thin plastic tubing beneath his nose connected to a portable oxygen tank that sits at his side. Troian’s breathing is labored.
I look at Zenya, communicating with her silently.I didn’t realize he’d relapsed.
Her hands tighten on the back of my neck, telling me about her fear, her worry, her heartache.
“Zenya, what happened to you tonight?” Troian only has eyes for his injured daughter and he hasn’t noticed who is holding her.
“It was a disaster. Can you please put me down, Uncle Kristian?”
I don’t move as Troian’s attention snaps to me, and the expression of concern on his gray face morphs into fury. “You. What the hell are you doing here?”
I feel Zenya flinch in my arms. “I’ll take Zenya upstairs and call a doctor for her, then you and I can talk.”
“You will do no such thing. You will put my daughter down and get out of here right now. You’re not welcome in my house.”
