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“I love you,” he tells me.
“I love you, too.”
“Does she really want to be an accountant?”
I giggle. “I guess the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”
* * *
Anya, exhausted from the day, falls asleep in the backseat of the car. Leo takes great pleasure in being able to pick her up and carry her to the elevator, our daughter’s little cheek pressed against his shoulder. She drools against the fabric, but Leo doesn’t seem to mind in the slightest. When we get up to the penthouse, he takes her straight to her room and tucks her into bed, placing a loving kiss on her forehead before joining me in the hall.
“She’s growing up so fast,” he mumbles warmly. “One day I’m not going to be able to pick her up anymore.”
“That’s why we should enjoy it while it lasts,” I whisper back.
He brings my hand up to his lips and kisses my knuckles. I don’t even have to ask what he’s thinking. I know him so well I can practically read his mind with a single glance. The hunger in his eyes is undeniable. We’re of a single mind, the two of us.
“We’re going to have to be quiet,” I say, smirking.
“I can think of a couple creative ways we can manage.”
“Is it my turn to be tied up, or is it yours?”
Leo leans forward and all but growls. “Yours.”
Extended Epilogue
Leo
Eleven Years Later
“Y-you’re not going to break my kneecaps or something, are you, One-Eye?”
I stare down my nose at the guy. He’s scrawny, like a rat. His two front teeth protrude outward, which definitely lends itself to his rodent-like appearance. His hair is greasy, too, like he’s just climbed out of the sewer to personally stink up my office.
“No one’s breaking anything,” I mumble tiredly. “But Iwillbe confiscating that car of yours.”
“B-but I—”
“You owe us a significant amount of money, and I’ve been more than generous with my deadline. There’s no reason for you to be driving around in a Bugatti.” I scoff. “Seriously, what were you thinking? Driving a luxury car all over Moscow like you’ve got the cash to spare.”
“Look, I just need more time—”
“Give me the keys.”
“I don’t—”
I glance at Samuil. “You can either give me the keys to your stupidly pricey vehicle, or my brother can hang you upside down by the ankles until you do.”
My phone dings with a text message from my wife.
Anya’s back from her date.
It sounds like it did NOT go well.
I pinch the bridge of my nose and sigh. I knew that kid, Christoff, was a piece of shit the moment I saw him. It wasn’t even because I was in protective father mode. The boy looked like trouble—and Iknowtrouble. Baggy purple tracksuit, gaudy gold chains—probably fake—and those stupid patterned bucket hats I see kids wearing all the time. My darling Anya deserves so much better than a loser like him.
But she’s sixteen and free-spirited, the latter of which she most certainly got from her mother. While I had my reservations—and obviously, for good reason—I wasn’t going to be the bad guy by doing something as stupid as forbidding her to see him. That probably would have blown up in my face. The last thing I need right now is to give Anya a reason to act out against her parents.
