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Here we go. I fucking swear, if this kid starts asking for glasses of water?—
“It’s too dark.”
Oh.
I guess I hadn’t thought of that when I carried her mother away to what is now a makeshift medical wing. This place wasn’t built with kids in mind—no matter how many times Pavel and Bambi nudged me to “think of the future”—so there’s no night lights or glowing orbs for the bathroom or anything of the sort.
Nothing but pitch darkness. And without her mother to hold her and comfort her and reassure her with her presence, it’s probably a hundred times scarier to a tiny thing like Willow.
I think fast. “Wanna see something cool?”
Willow nods and sits back up, holding her arms up to me.
It doesn’t occur to me that she probably just needed help sliding off the tall bed. Not until we’re already halfway down the large hallway, her head tucked under my chin as I carry her in my arms. I’d swept her up, blanket and rabbit and all, without a second thought and now I’m carrying her around like… like…
Like she’s something to me I can’t afford her to be.
We reach the solarium and I quickly set her down on one of the plush loungers before she gets too comfortable. She’s already started to snuggle me—because she doesn’t know what I am.
I’m a mob boss. The leader of an organized crime syndicate.
Mob bosses don’t “snuggle.”
But Willow neither knows nor cares.
She’s a little preoccupied, to be fair. Her eyes grow wide when she sees the open ceiling and the brilliant stretch of the Milky Way illuminating the room. The starlight makes the palm trees and cacti reflect dark greens and blues, and through the floor-to-ceiling glass wall, we can see the moonlight sparkle on the pool water.
“Is this better?” I ask her. I already know the answer—her face is almost as lit up as the sky.
“Yeah,” she breathes.
“How about…” I discreetly pull out my phone and tap a quick text to Bambi. “How about we make this your new room?”
Willow whips her wide eyes to me. “Really?”
I nod. “We’ll get some tint for the windows when you need it, add some more furniture and toys, maybe a fluffy rug over there…”
I stop myself before I start sounding like I’m invested in her comfort. I’m not. I just need her to be happy so she stops asking questions and stays out of the way.
That’s it.
Bambi quickly sashays around the corner, a bright smile plastered on her face.Thank God. I know I woke her from a dead sleep when I texted her to come over and handle whatever this is, but the way she croons her hello to Willow and practically glides across the room in her silk kaftan doesn’t give away any irritation she may feel toward me.
Which, great. Whatever. Be irritated, or don’t. I have better things to do than to play Daddy Warbucks to little semi-orphan Annie here.
“Miss Bambi is going to help you settle into your new room,” I tell Willow as I begin to make my subtle exit from the situation. “Anything you want, just tell Miss Bambi, okay?”
“I want Mommy.”
Bambi dives in before I say anything stupid. “Do you want a midnight cookie? Maybe with some ice cream on top?”
Something inside me wants to caution against too much sugar so late at night. It’s bedtime. The kid needs to be asleep, not rotting her teeth out.
But I shake that off just like every other remotely parental thought I get around her. Not my kid, not my problem. I give Bambi a quick nod, then wave at Willow when she spots me leaving.
“Goodnight,solnishka.”
Solnishka.Little sun. A bright spot in a dark desert.
