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“Tut tut tut, such language from such a pretty girl.” He laughs lightly and that laugh… Makes me want to rip the vocal cords out of his throat. “Only proves you’re mine. Dan would never curse.”
Fuck.
“I am not half-Russian,” I spit out because seriously,yuck.
“No, you’re not. You’re half Belarusian.”
This Russian-Belarusian-I-don’t-give-a-fuck-what-he-is low-life scum is nothing to me. I don’t care what he is because it has nothing to do with me. I clench my fists in fury, but I have to keep it in check. Sure, this is shocking, but I refuse to give him the satisfaction of watching me lose my shit.
I may half hate my mother, but I look exactly like her (not including the eyes), and everyone tells me that I act like her. That’s why we don’t get along. But my father, myrealfather, not this sperm donor my mother picked up off the filthy New York sidewalk, is everything that I’m not.
Even if we share the same eyes and nose and laugh, I’m nothing like this dirtbag. And maybe not even the eyes… Sure, they’re unique, but Aunt Natalia always commented how I have the perfect combination of my father’s and mother’s eyes.
Oh. My. God. Was shecoveringfor my mother’s affair?
I gulp down the bile that rises up my throat.
Fuck you, Aunt Natalia.
No, you know what really tipped me off? It’s the fact that Dan is nothing like me or my mother. Tata is everything that’s kind and loving in this world. And while I may be kind and loving to a select group of people, I’m not kind to everyone. And he’s calm. I’m the furthest thing from calm. There isn’t much I can identify within myself that’s him, unless it was cultivated. Like our mutual love for soccer and the arts, for poetry and painting.
I take a long, hard look at this sperm donor. The eyes are a dead giveaway, and the hair color is a strong runner up. I may have my mother’s round face and a-little-too-full lips, but his nose is my nose. That nose doesn’t come from anyone in my mother’s or father’s line. I glare at his nose. That nose must be Belarusian. I gag.
He smirks at my inspection of him, and damn him, but at that moment, a dimple pops out on his right cheek. Just like me.
Panic starts crawling up my throat. I gulp down a breath. Then another. Christ, I don’t want to know this. My breakfast is fighting a battle with my tummy and it would serve this guy right if I just upchucked on his fancy leather interior. Even if you’ve known something your entire life, that doesn’t mean you want to be confronted with the hard truth.
And if we’re so much alike, if he’s known about me for a while, why did he reveal himself now? I glare at him. I have a strong inkling as to why, but I want to hear it from the bastard himself.
Gulping down the bile, I cross my arms over my chest tightly and declare, “We’ve lived in the same city my entire life. Why now, after all these years?”
“You’re assuming I knew about you.”
A deflection if I’ve ever heard one, and not one I’m going to let pass. I want answers, and I want them now, since I don’t know when I’ll see him again. Hopefully, never.
I give him a bland look. “Are you telling me you didn’t know you had a kid running around with the same exact eye color and laugh as you?”
“So you noticed as well.” He shrugged. “There were a few years when your mother gave me the slip. She ghosted me, so of course my first assumption was that Dan had arrived on these shores. She’d always made it clear that our arrangement was temporary. I didn’t go searching for her, but one day, I was bored and…” He gives a little shrug. “Call it curiosity.”
Jesus, he must think I’m an idiot.More like someone tipped him off. Or he’d kept tabs on Mama and he found out that she’d birthed a child. That’s where the curiosity came in.
“I happened to see her pushing a stroller,” he continued, lifting his chin in my direction. “Of a beautiful baby girl.”
Was that supposed to be a compliment? I paste a bored look on my face. “If you’re looking for a reunion, you’re eighteen years too late.”
“It’s never too late,” he returns.
Oh, yeah? Fuck you, dude. Like hell it isn’t.
Ignoring him, I go on, “You must need something. No other reason for a man like you to come looking for a girl like me. I bet you have a dozen baby mamas to choose from. You wouldn’t bother with agirlfrom another mafia without a good reason. Remember, I’mmafie. You’re Bratva.”
Just so he gets the message loud and clear, I lean toward him and hold his stare as I murmur, “Whatever you want, you won’t get it from me.”
“As your father—”
“You’re not my father.”
His face hardens. Aah, now his true colors come out.
