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“We, Enforcer?”
“Aye, we. You are still my wife’s father. Your brotherhood is her legacy, too. And now that Anastasia is my sister, I have much more of a personal interest to make sure this place doesn’t go to hell.” Lachlan puts his hands behind his back. “Maksim must go.”
Papa sits down and turns to Sergei, who speaks in Russian.
It’s like they forgot I understand.
Sergei agrees with Lachlan.
“Papa…” I stand up, still cradling my son. As underboss, I agree with Lachlan and further suggest, Sergei be promoted to Enforcer.”
“I agree with that, wholeheartedly,” Lachlan says.
“Do I call you Underboss?” Darragh whispers, smiling against the curtain of my hair.
I can only imagine the talk we’ll have later. How I brought this up without speaking to him first.
But the idea of having a job, having real responsibility like the other O’Rourke wives, excites me.
I may have been raised to be a princess, but I have a choice now as to whether I stay one. Even if Darragh would love a housewife.
In the few short days that we’ve been home, I’ve been made aware, I’d be the only one.
All the women in the O’Rourke family work, including Katya. They all pull their weight.
Papa and Sergei finish their conversation, and Papa shakes his hand, followed by kisses on both cheeks.
“There are men loyal to Maksim who will also have to be taken out,” Papa says in Russian.
I shiver to think this new leadership shakeup will mean bloodshed.
“Enforcer, you and I will talk in private,” Sergei says to Lachlan.
“Looking forward to it, Enforcer.” He bows his head to Sergei.
Sergei and Lachlan leave the room just as J.P. starts to fuss.
“The diaper bag is in the car, do you need it, my love?” Darragh asks me with his hand on my back.
“Yeah, I think he needs a diaper change, I’ll…”
“I got it.” He takes him from me and we stop when my father stares at us. “Dads change diapers these days, Pakhan.” Darragh goes to leave then stops, realizing he’s leaving me alone with my father. “Are you okay, my love?”
“Of course.” I look at my father. “Right?”
“Da,” he answers. “The question is an insult.”
I press a kiss to J.P.’s forehead while he’s nestled in Darragh’s arms and then he surprises me with a kiss on my lips.
The door closes, and I face my father alone. There’s no one to hear something awful he’ll say to me. There’s no one to censor him with a look like Lachlan or Darragh.
“I’ve been sick with worry,” Papa grounds out, but he doesn’t hug me.
“I’m truly sorry. I was young and stupid. But I have a question?” When he doesn’t stop me, I continue. “Would you not have worried about sending me off to Boston with a man who would have done God-knows-what to me? Or were you worried about Katya and the man who beat her up the night before their wedding?”
He doesn’t answer, and I’m crushed.
If living in the real world taught me anything, it’s that there are fathers out there who would have worried.
