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“It’s not as utopian as you’re thinking. Reality is much more nefarious than dreams.”
“How would you know if you never fight for that dream?”
“What about you? Are you going to fight for Kirill again?”
“I don’t know, but I’ll definitely fight for this.” I take his hand and place it on my stomach.
Anton’s brow furrows, but then his lips part with recognition. “Are you by any chance…?”
“Pregnant. Yes.”
“Wow. That didn’t take long.”
I hit his shoulder jokingly. “It happened before I left. I’m in my second trimester now.”
“Kirill must be ecstatic that he has a reason to keep you by his side.”
“I haven’t told him exactly because of that.” I release his hand and intertwine my fingers on my lap. “I don’t want him to force me to stay because of the baby, but at the same time, I don’t know how long I can hide this from him. I just want him to…I don’t know…”
“Love you like a normal human being?”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“No one in that family is normal. Least of all, Kirill.”
“And you are?”
“I could be.”
“As if. You went all defensive mode on Maks just now because you’re scared of the unknown.”
“That’s different. Maks has a soft core, but Kirill doesn’t. He’s more interested in the success of his plans than anyone or anything else.”
I wanted to believe otherwise, but after he imprisoned his own brother, I’m not sure what to believe anymore. Maybe Anton and everyone else who described him as emotionless is right.
After all these years, I have to admit that I was wrong to believe there’s another side to him that he keeps under wraps.
A side dedicated to only me.
Maybe I was the delusional one in this equation.
“What do you plan to do now?” he asks when I say nothing. “You and I both know we can’t keep the status quo forever.”
“I’ve been trying to contact Uncle Albert to no avail.”
“Try using my code of emergency. He’ll come for me.”
“But not for me?”
“Probably not.”
“Ouch.”
Anton offers me a sympathetic look. “They never trusted you after you saved Kirill when they were close to killing him. They think you’d do it again, and they’re probably not wrong.”
“Do you expect me to let them kill the father of my son?”
“You wouldn’t let them kill him even if there was no child involved.”
Well, that’s true.
A part of me will always be protective of Kirill, no matter what he does. I might hate him, want to slap and kick and punch him, but I’d never allow anyone to hurt him.
Which is the definition of a toxic relationship.
“At any rate, get me out of here already,” Anton says.
“Only if you promise to help me.”
“Help you kill our family?”
“No, just make them see reason for once.” I squeeze his shoulder. “Do it for Maks and, most importantly, for yourself, Tosha. You need a fresh start.”
He grumbles but doesn’t say anything.
On my way out, I cross paths with Maks at the door.
“You going, Sasha?”
“Yeah. I can’t leave Kristina and Karina alone for too long when they’re miserable.”
He clutches me by the shoulders. “Don’t listen to the nonsense your asshole brother says. I’ve never seen Kirill care about anyone as much as he cares about you. According to the men, he was at the point of self-destruction when he thought you were dead. He’s not the best at expressing his emotions, but I know for a fact that you mean the world to him.”
“Aww, thanks, Maks.” I touch his hand that’s on top of my shoulder. “And if it’s any consolation, my asshole brother goes on the defensive when he thinks he’s cornered, so don’t listen to his bullshit. You said you’ve always wanted someone who looks at you the way I look at Kirill, right? Well, that someone is Anton.”
His lips part, but he soon clears his throat. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Don’t be blind. You didn’t see the look on his face when you left.” I kiss his cheek. “Take care of each other, okay?”
He releases an affirmative noise, and I leave with a smile on my face.
But it soon disappears when I find a grumpy Viktor waiting by the car. He definitely hates driving me here instead of being glued to his boss’s side.
I could probably ask Kirill to let me come on my own since he has the damn tracker on me now.
Viktor starts to open the back door for me, but I settle in the front passenger seat.
“You can just ride in the back,” he says after taking his place behind the wheel.
“I don’t like the idea of you being my driver.”
He grumbles in his signature displeased voice as he drives down the dirt road. When we’re on the highway, I ask, “Are you really okay with the way Kirill is torturing his own brother?”
“My opinion, or the lack thereof, has no importance whatsoever.”
