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I can’t help but wonder what sorts of things he gets up to behind that closed door. What awful Bratva business is he carrying out in secret just down the hall? The more time that passes, the more agitated I become.
Stranger still is the fact that Dimitri almost neverseems to spend time with his own child.
We’re in the living room, Lev seated beside us facing the window, toys and books scattered all over the floor. We’re playing with an assortment of colorful toy blocks. I thought giving Simon the task of creating things would distract him long enough for me to sneak away and take care of Dimitri. There’s just one problem, though.
How am I supposed to kill someone I never see?
“Ma…” Simon coos. He’s crawling around on his playmat, looking at the various age-appropriate toys I’ve laid out before him. “Mama,” he says, looking right at me.
I can’t help but giggle. “Oh, sweetie. No, I’m not your mama.”
His bottom lip begins to tremble, his eyes suddenly glossing over with tears. It nearly breaks my heart when Simon begins to sob, his arms outstretched toward me in search of comfort. I scoop him up quickly, stroking my fingers through his thick brown hair. Simon cries against my shoulder, inconsolable.
This poor boy’s mother. She showed up out of the blue and just—
Dahlia was trying to tell me something before Dimitri stepped into the room. I have to admit I’ve been burning with curiosity ever since. It’s difficult not to notice her glaring absence. I wonder what happened to her. Hopefully nothing nefarious, but knowing Dimitri’s track record…
Simon has an impressive set of lungs on him. Despite my best efforts, he wails for what feels like hours.
“Come on, sweetie,” I say gently. “It’s okay, shh…”
My stomach churns, a cold sense of unease washing over me. I’ve been living in a constant state of anxiety these past few days, dreading every passing second. I think perhaps I’d feel better about taking Dimitri out of the picture if Simon at least has his mother to care for him, but since I’ve seen no evidence of her anywhere in the house, I’m back to where I started.
Can I really go through with this? Dimitri made me an orphan, but do I have enough hatred in me to do the same to Simon?
“What a mess,” I mumble aloud.
“Is everything alright?”
I shoot up out of my seat with a gasp, cradling Simon close. Dimitri stands in the archway, leaning casually against the wall. The breath is knocked from my lungs. Dimitri’s just so…handsome. It’s unfair, really. Why is this monster so frustratingly easy to look at? I tell myself this is how he catches his prey off guard.
“I’m sorry, sir. I hope he didn’t disturb you.”
“It’s not a big deal.”
“Simon keeps asking for his mother. Do you have any idea where she is?”
“She’s… not here.”
Curiosity gets the better of me. “What do you mean?”
Dimitri presses his lips into a thin line. “The other day when you arrived for your interview… Never mind.”
I furrow my brows. “I don’t understand.”
He steps forward. I take a step back.Shit.It’s an instinctive reaction, but a mistake all the same. Dimitri blinks at me, baffled.
“Are you… scared of me, Ms. Chekov?” he asks cautiously.
“No,” I reply quickly. An awkward silence falls over us. I don’t know what to say, but I have to think of a lie quick. “Sorry, I’m just a little tired.”
Dimitri nods, but I don’t think he believes me. “May I?” he asks, holding his hands out toward his son.
I give Simon over, stepping into Dimitri’s space. For the briefest moment, our hands brush. The heat of his skin soaks into mine, fleeting yet undeniable. I don’t know what alarms me more—the spark I feel passing between us, or the fact that I enjoyed it.
Even more troubling is how good he looks holding his son. Something stirs in the pit of my stomach. Something primal and overwhelming. The tiny voice in the back of my head appreciates the sight of a big, strong man protecting his child.
And there it is again. This feeling of nervousness.
