Page 16

Chapter nine

You’re Not My Real Dad

Eoghan

“ I am not your Dad ,” Jericho said, wiping his large palm over his face.

“You are my father-in-law,” Dairo said with a low chuckle, yanking his chain. “As Yuliya has already explained to everyone at the table.”

He was antagonizing the shit out of Jericho, and it was getting out of hand. We had a war to fight. And I had to attend to actions that were more morose than a Greek Tragedy, so I needed whatever this little farce was to be over.

And damn it, I had to find out who the hell this Andres Lutkus was!

“That’s enough,” I said to Dairo, begging him to put a stop to his antics.

I felt tense. My skin felt hot, fevered. And all the while, I could feel her staring. The secret that I had kept for almost twenty fucking years.

Secrets had a way of festering…

I should have known one of my greatest secrets would be right the fuck here. I was a fool not to think of it, but between all the other secrets between me and Kira, I did not think one of mine would be the one to cause trouble. At least not this one.

“I don’t know why you get so riled up about this, Daddy,” Dairo said with a lazy smirk. “We are family, after all, oof!”

I kicked Dairo under the table, and he kicked me back, missing and hitting one of the leg chairs, causing the whole thing to bump. The fuck was he on about, family? With that Russian?

“Wanker!” Dairo said, in agitation. “You could have kicked little Jerry!”

“I’d never harm a child!” I said, placing my hands over Cillian’s ears. “And watch your language in front of the children!”

Had I cussed in front of the child? I’m pretty sure I had. Shit!

I needed to quit smoking. I had to quit swearing too. What else did I have to stop doing around the tiny version of myself?

“Wankuh!” Cillian repeated.

The table went silent. Everyone stared, either in horror or in repressed laughter. I was a little bit of both.

“Enough,” Jericho bellowed, silencing us both. “ Suka pizdiets !” Jericho wiped his brow as if he had no earthly clue how he ended up in this situation.

You and me both, old man.

“You’re not my real dad,” Dairo mumbled.

Jericho took a seat, Jocelyn still on his chest, her curled body warm against him. He obviously held his grandchildren often, because the baby was so comfortable in his arms that her eyes became heavy, her blinks long as she yawned.

The room quieted down, and I ran my finger through Cillian’s hair. I caught a glimpse of my wife beside him, and admired how their noses were the same shape. It was the main thing he inherited from his mum, andI was glad for it.

Playing with his blond hair as I glanced at my wife grounded me. My family was here.

“Is that true, Irish?” Yuliya asked, crystal clear, her accent somewhat softer than before. “You would never hurt a child?”

Shit. What the hell had I done, now? I turned to her, staring into the intensity of her crystal blue eyes. She was looking at me like I owed her money.

“I’ve heard you say that before, haven’t I?” Yuliya formed a cradle with her interlaced fingers, her palms down, as she rested her long chin on top. “I have not spent much time with you. I wonder…”

I clenched my jaw tight.

“No,” I said in a non-committal response. “We haven’t spent much time together.” Then to lighten the mood, I added, to lighten the mood, “Of the Vasilievs though, I must say, other than my Aoibheann, you’re my favorite.”

I let out an awkward laugh, but Yuliya did not let up for a second. Her intense gaze still burned into my skin.

“Rose is a Vasilieva,” Dairo said, his eyes narrowed.

I knew he was getting ready to kick me under the table again.

I don’t know what was going on between them, but I could not deny that he loved her.

“Rose is a Green.” I corrected him.

“She is not–” Jericho began, but his sister interrupted him.

I had to give her credit, not many people had the balls to silence Jericho at his own table.

“Yes, yes.” Yuliya waved a dismissive hand at her brother. “When was the first time we met, Eoghan?”

Shit. She knew. She fucking knew.

“I suppose it was when I dropped Aoibheann off to be married.” Another lie, and I regretted it the moment I said it.

Why was I holding on to this secret so dearly? I wasn’t sure. I had kept it down for so long that it was a part of me. Worse yet, my father’s voice still hummed in my ear about mercy being weakness, and I had shown mercy that day.

“ They won’t respect you if you’re weak, boyo .” Even now, his insipid voice plagued my mind, and shut my mouth, as the acidic taste of bile crawled up my throat as though the poison of my secret wanted to burn its way out of my gullet.

Yuliya’s lips tilted up in a smile as she clicked her tongue in reprimand. “Oh, dear. Should I be insulted? That’s what you and Dairo say, no? ‘Don’t lie to me, I take it as an insult?’”

Her blue eyes glinted in amusement. I didn’t know how she would use this information against me. Had she grown up like her brother? Or was she still the same strong-willed thing I had seen decades ago? I wasn’t sure.

“What are you saying, Pikkusisko ?” Jericho said. “I don’t like this… intrigue. ”

Jericho turned his eyes to me. They were molten, angry, and ready for the slightest excuse to end my life.

My hand curled around my iron blade, ready to jab it in his throat if it came to it. I’d need to keep the blood from hitting Cillian.

“What did you do to my sister?” Jericho growled.

The man was predisposed to hate me, as I was to him. Blood feuds run deeper than the Mississippi, and Jericho Vasiliev was still the son of the man who killed my mother. He had taken the mantle of his father and torn the bratva from his own half-brother. He’d killed his own family for power.

He knew nothing about what real family was, even if Aoibheann tried to convince us all otherwise.

“ Isoveli ,” Yuliya said, before anyone else could chime in, “I must apologize to you. I lied when you rescued me from the Irish.”

What the…

Jericho looked at her, a confused and hurt expression on his face.

My heart thrummed in my ears. I was watching a bomb count down in front of me, and there wasn’t a thing I could do to disarm it.

“I told you I had not eaten, or had anything to drink in the… five?... days that I was captive.” She waved it off, as if starvation was nothing to her. “I can’t remember.”

“Six,” Jericho corrected her, his fist clenched, his jaw tight. “It was six days.”

Jericho would have etched every infraction against his sister into his memory. He would have counted the damn seconds! The criminal underground is good at holding grudges. It was practically our love language.

“That wasn’t true.” Yuliya sipped the water in front of her, casually speaking as if sheweren’tt the center of everyone’s attention. “Every night, an Irishman came into my cell. He fed me, he gave me water.”

I wasn’t sure if her ease was because she truly was that unaffected by the past, or if it was a persona she put on.

Was it a mask? Or was she truly so powerful, brave, and strong that a trauma that would have broken others was simply a childhood phase that she discarded like an ill-fitting winter coat?

She smiled, as if the days she’d been beaten and tortured were a fond memory.

“I asked him why he did it. He told me that he would never harm a child.” Her eyes came back to me, and I looked away.

God damn, her eyes were a piercing, hostile blue. Nothing like the warm chocolate brown of my Muse.

“So?” Jericho asked, unsure what her point was.

Or maybe he was willfully choosing not to understand her point.

I didn’t have to look at Dairo and Kira to know that they had already figured out the end of her little tale.

I could feel their eyes on me, warming my skin.

I was afraid of what I’d see in their eyes if I looked at them, so I concentrated on Cillian, and his hands on the little fruits on his plate, the way he pinched a blueberry between his index finger and thumb with incredible, but clumsy, care.

“On the last day, something peculiar happened.” Yuliya leaned back, pausing for dramatic effect.

Was she doing that to be a pain in the arse? Or was she doing that because she was thinking? It was impossible to know, but even now, she reminded me of Shiny. Just as she had back then.

“The same man came in, he fed me, he gave me water. Then he slathered something on my skin.”

“Slathered?” Jericho’s eyes narrowed as if she’d just described someone doing a lewd act on top of her!

Bastard.

“Relax, brother,” Yuliya chuckled, her voice so easy and amused.

I was certain she could see the amount of fucking turmoil I was in, and she was twisting it for fun. I’d call her a bitch but if I were in her shoes, I’d probably be doing the same thing.

“I wasn’t sure, but it smelled like sunblock.”

“What?” Jericho said, his brows knit together, frustration growing.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, then shook his head.

With a long, drawn-out breath, he gently placed his fingertips on the table, and with a calm that I wasn’t sure he was capable of, he asked, “What is the point of this, Yuli?”

“I was strung up for hours in the hot sun, and as you all can see, my skin is as pale as the virgin snow.” Amusement still colored her every word, even as my heart beat so hard, it was as if it wanted to leap from my chest.

Dairo turned his head, opened his mouth, then closed it again, pursing his lips. He looked innocently up at the ceiling.

“What were you about to say, nephew?” Yuliya asked, amused, leaning forward with a smile.

“Nothing!” Dairo said, placing his hand on his chest as if the very notion of making a comment was shocking to him.

“Yes, you were,” Yuliya dragged out. “Out with it. What smartass remark were you going to make?”

“I was… going to say…” He looked around sheepishly. “That it’s probably the only virginal thing about you.”

Yuliya laughed, clapped her hand on the table, and the two of them chuckled together.

“English bastard,” Jericho said quietly.

“Agreed,” I mumbled. That was not an appropriate thing to say to a woman. Any woman.

“That’s hurtful, cousin,” Dairo said, sniffing while he thrust his nose into the air.

“The point, Yuli?” Jericho said, his eyes back on his sister, his agitation almost palpable.

“My skin did not burn. I would have died sooner if I had, I think,” Yuli finally said, smiling at how agitated everyone was.

Chaos gremlins… she and Dairo were chaos gremlins.

“I’m saying the sunblock saved my life. Jericho, you would have found nothing but a withered, red beet on those pillars.

Like a… dried-up chicken wing that’s been in the fridge too long. ”

Her casual laugh was so heartless that it made me shiver.

It positively enraged Jericho Vasiliev. “This isn’t funny, Yuli.”

“I think it’s hilarious,” she said with a smile, looking at her brother with mischief written all over her face. “Anyway, I just figured out who that Irishman was.”

Her eyes turned back to me.

“Eoghan, would like to tell the entire class exactly how we met.” She lifted one dark brow, the tendrils of her blond hair falling along her long cheeks. “The truth , this time.”