AllFreeNovel
Share Us
It’s a reference to our past, to my past, to the necklace that hangs around my neck. A reminder of the fact that he knows more, has seen more of me, than anyone else ever has.
The rose around my neck has always hung as a symbol of weakness to me. I’ve never viewed it in any positive light. It’s the last remnant of my mother. All she ever gave me besides life. The fact that I’ve never gotten rid of it, that I’ve worn it around like a talisman ever since she gave it to me on one of the few birthdays she remembered, has always bothered me more than I’m willing to admit.
Nick is the only one who’s ever noticed the necklace. Who’s ever asked or cared what it meant. When we were together, it felt special. Now, it feels too intimate. Like a layer he wasn’t supposed to reach.
I focus on the first half of his question and shove my feelings about the nickname away. “I’m not doubting you,” I say before walking around the front of the car and climbing into the passenger seat.
For the first time, I’m sitting up front and leaving the estate without a multi-car escort. Ishouldbe feeling apprehensive. I’m in a foreign country with a wild imagination that pictures threats around every corner. I usually white-knuckle my way through the school drop-off and pickup runs. But there’s no trickle of fear as we pass through the front gates and start rolling onto the road.
He’s familiar, I tell myself. Of course I trust Nick himself more than the many men who work for him. It doesn’t mean anything.
“Where are we going?” I ask. The irony I forgot to ask isn’t lost on me. And I don’t have the excuse of being eight and easily excited.
“The park,” Nick replies.
I glance over at his profile as he turns onto another road, surprised by the casual, normal answer. “The park,” I echo.
“Mmhmm.”
“Um, okay.”
Without looking at me, one corner of Nick’s mouth curls upward. I roll my eyes before looking out the window for the rest of the drive.
The trip takes about twenty minutes. We park in a quiet, tree-lined lot. Like Nick said, there’s a park. It’s a compact layout with paths that crisscross the grass and a small playground at one end with a climbing gym, swings, and a slide. Old trees with gnarled, bare branches stretch over most of the space, shading from the sun that occasionally peeks out from behind clouds.
Leo heads for the open middle section with Darya. Nick keeps up with them, pointing around and talking. I watch Leo laugh at something Nick says, gazing up at his father with hero worship in his eyes.
I think of all the reasons Nick listed for why men join the Bratva. He didn’t include himself. But he’s a natural leader with the sort of charisma and confidence that make people believe and miracles seem possible. And I think Nick would be right at the top for Leo, over money or power or family or any other reason.
I’ve always made it clear to Leo that my love isn’t conditional, and since becoming a mother, I’ve found it more and more difficult to believe my own mom chose to makemefeel that way.
But I’m worried Leo will think Nick’s love is.
I take a seat on one of the benches and snuggle into the layers I’m wearing. I try to shut off the part of my brain that never stops stressing and instead enjoy the morning. To appreciate this moment, which is both surreal and real.
The air is cold, but the sun is warm. Leo found a stick that he’s tossing for Darya, smiling as the dog runs and retrieves it. Nick stands next to him. I can’t see his expression, and I’m glad. I want Leo to have this memory, but I’m not sure I’m emotionally equipped to have any more details from this outing engraved in my brain.
Russian sounds to my right.
I glance over to see an older man has taken a seat at the bench next to mine. He’s bundled in wool and fur, a black-and-white newspaper settled on his lap, waiting to be read. His gaze is fixed away, so I follow it to the two figures and the dog.
“I don’t speak Russian,” I say awkwardly.
The man smiles. “I asked if that is a borzoi.”
Nick is watching us. I give him a small nod, letting him know I’m fine.
“A what?” I’m getting better at registering Russian accents, but this man’s is thick.
He smiles kindly when our gazes connect. “That’s the breed. I had a dog just like it, growing up. Very smart. Very loyal. You can rely on it to take good care of your boy.”
His expression is soft and wistful, lost somewhere decades ago. I decide not to correct him on the dog’s ownership. Right now, Leo is probably pretending Darya is his too.
“My son has wanted a dog for years.”
The man chuckles. “He looks very happy. What a beautiful family you have.”
I smile at him. “Thank you.”
