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“Who’s Armani? I don’t remember you mentioning him.”
Alek hesitates before he says, “Armani is an enforcer for the Italian mafia. We became good friends during training.”
Italian mafia. Bratva. God, what have I gotten myself into?
Alek sees my anxious expression, then murmurs, “Not everyone in my world is bad.” His features soften. “Misha and Armani will drop everything to help us if there’s ever a problem. The Vetrovs and Koslovs will kill for us, Everleigh. They protect their own.” Anger flashes over his features again. “We’re not like my father and Prodi.”
Only time will reveal whether that’s the truth.
Turning his body toward me, he leans against the couch. “Tell me everything I missed.”
It takes me a moment to realize how close we’re sitting and how intimate it feels.
“After returning home, I sold my parents' house in Ohio. I packed up everything and moved to LA because I remembered you said that’s where you wanted to go.”
A smile spreads over his face.
“I took the money I made from the sale and bought this house. I opened a bookstore and called it Fiction Anonymous. After that, I got everything ready for Vincent’s arrival.”
Alek hangs off of every word I say. “How are you doing financially? Do you need anything?”
I shake my head. “You don’t need to worry about my finances.”
He places his arm on the back of the couch, and his fingers play with my hair. “I want to take care of my family.”
“We can talk about it at a later stage.”
Reluctantly he drops the subject. “What happened after you had Vincent?”
A smile curves my lips. “He’s such an easy child. He started walking at eleven months, and I cried my eyes out when he called me Mommy for the first time.” My body relaxes more. “I always told him about you.”
“Thank you,” Alek murmurs, totally captivated by our conversation.
“His best friend’s name is Jonas. I take Vincent to the playground once a week so he can interact with other children.” I begin to feel sleepy. “Your son has an unhealthy addiction to ice cream.”
Alek chuckles, and when he pulls me closer so I can lean against him, I don’t fight him.
He holds me tenderly and sighs with satisfaction. “You’re an amazing mother,moya malen'kaya lyubov'. Thank you for taking such good care of our son.”
I never got to ask Alek what the words meant and take the chance while I have it. “What does the Russian words mean?”
“My little love.”
Be still my heart.
“And the other one. Blat…or something like that?”
“It means fuck,” he chuckles, the rumble deep from his chest vibrating against my cheek.
“You’ll need to teach me the language as well.”
“Okay.”
Silence falls between us, and Alek begins to trail his fingers up and down my back. The comforting sensation makes my eyes drift closed.
“I’m sleepy,” I murmur. He presses a kiss to my head. “Sleep,moya malen'kaya lyubov'. You’re safe with me.”
My mind wants to argue that this is inappropriate, but it loses the battle against my exhaustion.
