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“Tell them you’re his father!” she practically screeches.
Ah.
I cross my ankle over the opposite knee and lean back. “Apparently, your investigative work wasn’t as thorough as I thought.”
She crosses her arms. The expression on her face is one I’ve come to recognize. Defiance mixed with a heavy dose of disdain. “It was thorough enough.”
“No, it wasn’t. Not if you think I’m Benjamin’s biological father.”
She throws out her arms. “Get fucking real, Timofey! Why else would a woman choose to leave her newborn child with the leader of a Bratva?” At least she has the presence of mind to lower her voice. The last thing either of us needs is an eavesdropping nurse calling the cops.
I touch my fingertips to my chest. “Are you saying I don’t radiate paternal instincts?”
“This isn’t a game, Timofey. Don’t give me some little performance. Tell me the truth.”
I want to be annoyed with her, but underneath it all, I see her concern for Benjamin. She loves him more than I could ever ask any nanny off the street to. She wants to take care of him as her own, and I don’t want to punish her for that.
If she can overcome her own fears and obstacles to get Benjamin to the hospital as quickly as possible, then I can overcome mine, too.
“Emily left Benjamin on my doorstep because she mistakenly believed I would be a good father to him. Not because he’s actually mine.”
Piper frowns. “But why? It doesn’t make sense. We both know you aren’t the fatherly type.”
“Well, Emily thought so,” I say. “Because I was like a father to her.”
The crease between her brows deepens. Something like disgust curls her upper lip. “You were like a father? But the two of you—”
“Were siblings,” I finish. “Foster siblings. We lived in the same house after I was taken from my mother.”
Piper’s mouth falls open. “But I thought… The locket I found had a picture, and…”
I click my tongue in mock disappointment. “That’s what you get for assuming, Piper. You were so ready to think of me in a certain way that you jumped to all the wrong conclusions.”
“It didn’t make sense that she’d leave her baby with you. Actually, it still doesn’t make sense,” she admits, shaking her head. “So did Sergey adopt her, too?”
“Emily never got adopted.”
Her face falls. She’s heard this story too many times to believe it has a happy ending. “Oh. Oh… Oh no.”
“She was thirteen, but not very many people want to take on a troubled teen, do they?”
Piper winces. “Like Grant.”
I nod. “I saw a lot of Emily in him. The way he cared for his sisters and stood up to you. Emily was fierce like that.”
“Something the two of you had in common, then.”
I shrug. “I guess so. But Emily stood up to our abusive foster parents one too many times. I stopped her from getting beaten, and we ran away together. We took care of each other as well as two kids could. Then the police picked us up and we got dumped at Sergey’s.”
After the police picked us up, Emily swore we could have made it on our own. She went on and on about the life we would have built for ourselves. But I was hours away from dragging her to CPS myself. She’d lost so much weight. Looked so sick. The streets weren’t treating her well, and I was scared I wouldn’t always be there to save her.
“Why didn’t she get adopted?”
“Sergey isn’t exactly sentimental.” It’s the understatement of the century. “He didn’t see two needy kids on his doorstep; he saw two potential investments. Apparently, he saw something in me worth investing in.”
“That’s so cruel,” she gasps.
“I wasn’t in a position to refuse. Especially when living with Sergey gave me the opportunity to pass my good fortune on to Emily.”
