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Kat nodded, already walking toward her closet stashed with clothes. She pointed to the dress and tights she wanted, and I grabbed them, helping her into the outfit. In the bathroom, I carefully brushed through her dark hair while she hummed quietly, looking at herself sleepily in the mirror. Once her teeth were brushed as well, we moved into the kitchen.
Kat colored happily at the table while she waited, sipping from her juice occasionally.
Warm light poured in through the window as I grabbed what I needed to make breakfast, aware of the constant vibration from my phone. Ivan’s name popped up, but I turned my phone off, not wanting to be distracted while I tended to Kat’s needs.
Our lifestyle was a busy one, but I didn’t want to be constantly absent from Kat’s daily life. I wanted her to know me well, and to trust me above all else. She was my daughter and heir, even if we had only just begun acting like a family.
Whisking the ingredients together in a bowl, I chuckled to myself at how quickly things had changed. As a bachelor, I only had a cleaner come in a few times a week, and I mostly ate at the restaurant in my hotel.
But I was a family man, and I planned to hire a cook and a nanny. I needed to ramp up the security too. Whatever my family needed, I would provide it without question.
Once two small rounds of batter were cooking in the pan, I dropped a few blueberries in to make a face for Kat. After they started bubbling, I carefully flipped them over and let them finish cooking.
Serving them onto a small plate for her, I placed them on the table and was immediately rewarded with a giggle from Kat.
The blueberries were placed unevenly in the pancake and cooked into a wonky face. It was an honest first attempt, but it could use some work.
I didn’t mind though since Kat’s laughter was like music to my ears.
“What, you don’t like my art?” I questioned her jokingly, reaching for the butter and syrup to carefully pour some over top. “What if we put some of this on it?”
Kat giggled some more, reaching for her fork. “That’s better!”
Smiling to myself, I rumpled her hair and moved back over to the stove to make some for myself.
“Thank you, daddy,” she murmured with a mouthful of pancake already.
My heart warmed, glad to finally know the joys of fatherhood and what it means to feel like I have a purpose beyond carrying out my brother’s orders. “You’re welcome, little one.”
Once my breakfast was made and I joined her at the table, I watched as she dug in happily, so carefree and unaware of the dangers in the world yet. I didn’t want her to know any of them if I could help it, but I knew she’d find out one day.
While she shared a lot of my features, I couldn’t help but see Mila in her too. It made me wonder what the two of them had been through before we came together again.
“Did you eat a lot of pancakes back home?” I asked, careful to only ask questions she’d have answers to.
Kat shrugged. “Only on Saturdays. Mama is too busy to make them every day.”
Nodding, I sipped from my coffee and continued. “Did she have work during the week?”
Kat nodded and moved her food around. “At the grocery store. I played with other kids at daycare.”
“Did you get up to anything else on the weekends?”
Shaking her head ‘no’, she put another piece in her mouth. Swallowing, she answered, “We went to the park, but that’s it.”
I nodded along as Kat spoke, somewhat saddened by how lonely and isolated it sounded. Mila may have run away to protect Kat and herself, but it seemed they didn’t have many others to keep them company.
“Some people call mama Milly. It’s silly,” she added, a harmless smile on her face.
That I did know.
Mila had been determined to not be found, so what made her finally come back to Miami to meet her father—the one she hid from since college?
She warned me not to trust Grigory Lukin. If that was the case, then why was there a rush for our marriage to become official? I was missing something from the bigger picture, and there was no way of telling if I was onto something.
I didn’t know who to trust or not, a key identifier that helped keep me alive. But keeping track of it all was exhausting.
As Kat babbled on even after her breakfast was all gone, Mila shuffled into the kitchen, more adorably rumpled than I cared to admit. She wore a pair of soft shorts and a loose shirt that hung from her shoulders.
