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Zenya raises her uninjured leg and plants her foot against my chest, keeping me back. “This is a game you’re playing. It’s a sick and twisted one, and I’m not playing with you.”
I grasp her ankle and massage it. “How about we talk about what you want. I’ve got your back, and your back only. Not Troian’s. Yours. You say beat that man to death? I do it. You want me to tell everyone in this city that Zenya Belyaev rules the streets and break the fingers of anyone who doesn’t agree? I’m there. Anything you need. The sky’s the limit.”
She thinks for a moment. “I want you to admit that what happened two years ago is all your fault. You hurt Dad and me and you’re sorry.”
If she were anyone else, I’d tell her to get fucked and point out that it took two people to get me thrown out of this family. Apparently Zenya needs to believe that none of this is Troian’s fault. Her precious father is at death’s door. His are big shoes to fill, and she craves to look up to him and be the person he wants her to be.
So I swallow my pride and my anger and tell her what she needs to hear.
Taking her face in my hands, I look deep into her eyes. “It was all my fault, princess. I take full responsibility for what happened two years ago, and I’m so sorry for the pain I caused you.”
“Wow,” she whispers in shock.
Her foot slides down my chest. I catch her leg behind the knee and hold it at my hip, moving closer to her. I’m so close to a real kiss I can taste her lips.
“You’ve changed these past two years,” she says. “The old you would never admit any faults. Will you say this to Dad, too?”
I shake my head. “He’s not the one who needs to hear it. Don’t worry about me and your father. We’ll sort our issues out between the two of us.”
“Promise you won’t say anything to upset Dad,” she says anxiously.
“I’ll try.” Probably. I haven’t decided yet whether I want to share everything that happened between Troian and me two years ago with Zenya.
“Swear that you won’t. Swear it on my mother’s grave.”
My jaw clenches. If I do that, my lips really will be sealed. I would never break an oath like that. Is this what it’s going to take to convince Zenya that I’m a better man and to accept me as part of this family again?
I gaze into her big blue eyes. Apparently so.
“I swear on your mother’s grave that I won’t say anything to upset your father. What’s more, I swear on her memory that I never wanted to stay away so long. Every day that I was gone hurt like hell, and I never stopped thinking about you.”
Zenya breathes harshly and pain fills her eyes. “You better not be telling lies as you swear on my mother’s memory or I will never forgive you, Uncle Kristian.”
I take her hand and place it on my heart. “It’s the truth. I only want to be here for you.”
“Do you mean me specifically or the family?”
A smile hooks the corner of my mouth. Does my princess need to feel special right now? Then I’ll make her feel as adored as I know how because I live to spoil her. “The Belyaev family is important to me, but the one I need the most? You, princess. In the last…” How do I put this without freaking her out? “…several years, I haven’t touched another woman. I haven’t kissed another woman. I haven’t even looked at another woman.”
Her cheeks flame red and she stammers, “I wasn’t asking about anything like that.” Then she thinks for a moment and scowls at me. “What about strippers?”
I shake my head. “The boys love strippers so we always used to drink in places like that, but the boys and I do our drinking in bars these days. If they want strippers, they go without me.”
Zenya studies me for a long time, a confused expression on her face. “But why would you stay away from other women?”
I slide my hand around the nape of her neck and my lips whisper in her ear, “Because I only wanted you. For me, there’s been only you for a long time.”
Zenya is silent for a long time, gripping the edge of the table with both hands. “I don’t understand.”
I pull back and rest my forehead against hers, stroking her cheek with my thumb. “Since the moment I realized you’re the only one for me, I haven’t wanted anyone else. So I’ve been waiting for you.”
It didn’t start as a conscious decision. I’ve never been short of female attention, and sleeping with one or two different women every week was normal for me for a long time. Often the women would come back for seconds and thirds—if they weren’t offended that I didn’t remember their names. But then I found myself turning away from flirtatious smiles and hands that lingered on my arm. First I was too busy for sex, and then when I realized a month had passed without indulging in one of my favorite pastimes, none of the faces and bodies on offer held any appeal.
Not that I wasn’t ferociously horny. I kept looking for a slender blonde with a pretty, plush mouth and blue eyes that danced with mischief, and I was so frustrated when I couldn’t find her.
Until I got it through my thick skull who I was hunting for.
The girl who was right under my nose. Snuggling up to me on the sofa. Begging to drive my car. Doing her homework at the kitchen table. Teaching her younger siblings to read. Working at the Silo. Asking me to practice self-defense with her.
