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“Well, then. How can I refuse?”
Silvia beams, and we both settle onto the small chairs that accompany Isla’s little drawing table.
“Have you been keeping up with your drawing with all the upheaval?” I ask.
Silvia shakes her head. Pity. She does some of the most incredible charcoal art I’ve ever seen.
“But I plan on getting back into it once we’re settled in. My fingers are itching to get to work. How’s your photography going? You said you start school again in two weeks?”
“Yeah, but I’ve definitely been keeping up with it this summer. I’ve got some great portraits just from people-watching in the park. It’s become my new favorite pastime.”
Silvia giggles. “I would love to join you on those. Maybe I can do portraits of my own variety.”
“I would love that.”
My attention turns to the little girl working on her coloring book as Silvia absently strokes her dark hair. Isla’s a stunner. She looks so much like her mother but has her father’s same gray eyes.
She seems shy like her mother, too, though I wonder if that’s just because she hasn’t had the opportunity to get to know me yet. She keeps casting me quick glances from beneath her dark lashes when she thinks I’m not looking.
“Isla, do you remember your auntie Dani?” Silvia asks her daughter encouragingly.
It warms my heart to hear myself being called auntie. My brother, Ben, might be the same age as Pyotr, but he’s far lessestablished, you might say. I’ve always loved his rebellious, carefree spirit. But it makes me confident he won’t be having kids anytime soon. He doesn’t even take the time for a serious girlfriend. So I’m honored that Silvia would dub me an honorary aunt.
Isla glances up at me more thoroughly this time, then gives her head a subtle shake. No, she wouldn’t remember me.
“That’s okay,” I say brightly. “We’re going to become best friends now that you live so close. Would you be alright with that?”
After a pause, the toddler gives me a tentative nod and smiles shyly.
A light knock on the doorframe announces Pyotr’s presence, and he leans against the wood. “Dinner’s ready,” he says when we all turn to look.
Isla hops up off her stool and runs to Pyotr, who scoops her up in his arms and plants a kiss on her temple.
“Come on, my little princess. Are you hungry?” he asks, turning to lead the way toward the dining room.
Silvia and I share a smile before rising to follow.
“I never would have guessed he’d be such a… dad,” I joke.
Silvia laughs. “Honestly, me either. When I first met him, I was terrified at the thought of raising children with him.”
“Really?”
“That feels like ancient history now,” she says warmly.
We all settle around the table, and the Veles family’s personal chef—famous for the years he spent cooking for Vladimir Putin himself—presents dinner a moment later. It’s an impressive three-course meal, steeped in Russian tradition. I can only assume it’s a way of welcoming Pyotr home.
The food is divine, and the company is heartwarming after so much time since I’ve seen them all. And yet, I can’t seem to remain focused on the conversation—no matter how engaging—because I’m intensely aware of the imposing figure that occupies the kitchen doorway.
Efrem entered the space as soon as we sat down for our meal, taking silent sentinel to watch over the tiny family and keep an eye on the movers still hauling boxes into the massive brownstone mansion.
I can see him just from the corner of my eye, and though he hardly moves an inch, I can’t seem to disregard his presence. Perhaps it’s because of his penetrating gaze. When the tingling awareness grows too intense, I catch myself glancing in his direction. Only to find his blue eyes watching me.
Each time, his gaze lingers, and I drop my eyes back to my plate, embarrassed to be caught looking at him once again. But then, heislooking at me too. A fact that sets my pulse humming through my veins.
Nearly halfway through the meal, Efrem steps from the room. I sense him leave more than I see it, but it distracts me enough that I lose my train of thought midsentence, and Silvia has to put me back on track.
“That’s for this upcoming election?” she presses, tilting her head inquisitively.
