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34
KIRILL
Aweek after the scene at dinner, I tossed Mallory a hoodie and told her to get changed. I was tired of her hurt silence and her withdrawal. I was tired of her downcast eyes and how she only gripped me when I came to her late at night, turning away from me immediately after.
Sure, I could fuck her into submission and threaten her with Henry’s safety. But a kernel of fear was forming in the pit of my stomach. Mallory was breaking, and it was breaking me too. I couldn’t let it happen.
“Put that on and get ready. Visiting hours start soon.” I moved my attention to the news.
We were listening to the headlines about some new mayoral candidate. The newscaster claimed the man might be in the running as a modern-day saint. I snorted into my coffee, tickled by the claim. This man had paid for three bodies so far, and there would undoubtedly be more in the future.
Mallory sighed. “I don’t want to go anywhere.”
“Too bad,” I snapped. “Get changed, or I’ll change you myself.”
“Fine.” She got up and wandered away. Even the way she moved was different. She was lackluster and without purpose.
After ten long minutes, I went looking for her. She was brushing her hair in front of the mirror, staring sightlessly at her reflection. She was wearing a white dress and looked achingly lovely. She noticed me watching her in the glass.
I shouldered the door open and pushed down the desire to go to her. “What’s taking so long?”
“I just remembered I had to pay for something important at the nursing home, and I forgot.” A raw laugh left her. “I don’t even have the money. I’m unemployed and haven’t worked in a week. That’s the kind of daughter I turned out to be.” She closed her eyes, willing herself not to cry.
The sight broke something inside me.“So, you don’t want to go and see her?”
Her eyes snapped open. “What?”
“I’m taking you to visit Mara, but you need to get a move on so we can make visiting hours.”
A terrible, beautiful hope was etched in her eyes. “Really?”
I nodded and glanced at the intriguing sight of her half-bare chest. “Put the hoodie on. I can see your tits.”
“Whose fault is that? You’re the obscene stylist,” she grumbled as she pulled the heavy material over her head.
My mouth twitched.There was my girl.
* * *
I’d moved Mara Madison,or Mara Wilson, from Grateful Dawn because the place wasn’t good enough for her. She’d given birth to Mallory. She was a queen amongst women.
If there was still a part of me that felt anything, it was for mothers like Mara Madison and my mother, Fiona Lewis. The women the world had chewed up and left behind.
I told myself I wasn’t bringing Mallory to see her mother for her sake as I drove my black Bugatti into the forecourt of Cedar Green, the upscale nursing home where I’d had Mara moved. I was doing it for the mothers whose children grew up to be stunning disappointments like Molly and me.
But Molly needed something to pick her up. She was fading before my eyes, and it weighed on me more than it should.
Molly looked around, scrunching her nose. “This isn’t the right place. Did you forget where it is? I guess head injuries are common in your line of work.”
“Get out of the car before I change my mind.”
She jumped out so fast I might have laughed if I’d been a different man. I followed, and we walked inside. Her eyes took in the luxurious seating and gold fittings, the calming waterfall feature on the wall behind the reception, and the three ambulances waiting outside the side door.
“This isn’t right. My mother isn’t here.” Molly was still muttering when there was a commotion by the front desk.
A widely curved body dressed in lavender scrubs was rounding the end of the desk and barreling toward us, nearly bodychecking an orderly who scrambled to get out of the way.
“Lori Wilson!” Gladys exclaimed before enveloping Mallory in a hard hug. “I was so worried about you until I met Kirill. I couldn’t be happier for you.” Gladys pulled back and beamed at me. “Mr. Chernov, it’s so good to see you again. I’ve been taking extra special care of Mara like you asked, and I’ve also been dropping in on—”
