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Chapter Twenty

ERIN

“Mama!”

The tears flow as Sasha runs up to me the next day, his knee scratched from his fall outside after running around like a tiny maniac.

I kiss the boo-boo better and gather him up, distracting him with talk of his new toys as his scrape is superficial and barely there. Like always, the shock of his fall is the mean culprit here.

His chubby little arms go around me as he wheezes out the virtues of the robot thing he has. Nothing’s going to replace his goat, but this toy is a close second. I remember his eyes getting big at the ad on TV.

Suddenly, he looks up, and he smiles, then his face scrunches, like he’s trying to work out which way he wants to go. Sasha wiggles away from me and dashes off as I turn right, as he stops a safe distance from Demyan. “Look! Dane! Look! I hurted!”

My heart flips at the sight of the tall man, who takes up too much space .

He frowns and sits, examining the offending knee. “Perhaps we should cut off your leg? Keep it and throw the rest away?”

Sasha’s eyes go round. “Noooo. Bad Dane.” He sidles a little closer, nervous of him, and my heart squeezes because it’s clear how much Demyan wants to sweep him up and hug him.

But he doesn’t, and there, around the corners of his smile, the tautness tells me how much he hates he can’t do that.

I’ll never in my life take holding Sasha for granted again. Not after he took Sasha from me, not after the pain I can see.

“Do you have boo-boos?” Sasha sidles closer to him, hovering.

Demyan lifts his pants leg, the strong muscles there somehow riveting, and he points to a puckered mark which looks like a stab mark or healed bullet wound, not that I have experience with either. But after the whole army of guards and the shootout, I wonder…

Of course, Sasha’s so fascinated he goes up to it, his little fingers poking at it.

“Did you falled?”

“No.” His eyes meet mine and he says, “I bumped into something.”

The scar’s interesting but so are the toys and now that Sasha is inside and his scratch forgotten, he goes off to play, giggling as he tries to build with the blocks and Legos.

Without thought, the word ‘sorry’ slips out of my mouth. This earns me a sharp look from Demyan.

“What are you sorry about?”

“I… everything? Holding him?” I look at my hands as I move to the sofa, perching near him. “I know… I know you want to do that, and I stole the ease of that from you. I didn’t mean to. I just… ”

Crap, I’ve no idea where I’m going with this, only that the words are falling all over themselves, jumbling.

I want to say I see him. See how he wants to hug his child, how he aches to be as loved as I am.

It’s about time. Sasha’s already getting over his fear and he’s fascinated by him.

I want to say Sasha doesn’t know many men, that the fact he’s come so far in such a short period of time is a miracle.

But I settle on one thing. “Your sister offered to drive us away, help us escape. I don’t think she meant it.”

“She did.”

There’s warmth beneath his mask as he says that. He worships her, like he does Sasha, and something sharp claws at me.

“I said no. You’re right. You should get to know him. I can’t take that from him and he’s falling for you.” I grin. “He showed you his scratch. And then you showed him one of yours. I thought he was going to fly at that.” I cast a look at Demyan. “I’m glad you didn’t tell him what it was.”

“Yeah, well.” But he doesn’t explain further.

I take a breath and Olga comes in, offering coffee like she’s a waitress. He accepts, as do I, but I don’t miss the irritation that flashes on his face as she does so, and then I get it when she smiles down at Sasha.

She’s fallen under his spell, too.

“I-if you have time, you could take him out to the garden. He loves the little swing set.” The moment I speak, I clap my free hand over my mouth. Talk about crossing lines.

But Demyan just nods. “He’d like that.”

The girl takes Sasha out, holding his hand, and I glance at Demyan again.

It’s weird how alike and different he is from Sasha.

I see our son in him, the eyes, hair, the stubborn chin, and the differences.

He’s hard, and I suspect it might be a protective shell.

And I can’t, no matter how hard I try, see him as carefree and open as Sasha, not even as a small boy .

It’s in that hardness, the way he freezes when Sasha is sweet to him, the way he melts with his sister and the pain from seeing her pain along with the frustration that hints he doesn’t know what to do.

No, not doesn’t know. Is unsure of himself.

Which is ludicrous.

Yet right.

The man oozes confidence, and the comfort he has in his own skin only adds to the sex appeal.

He doesn’t put it on. He just is.

I’m not excusing his behavior of trampling down my life and kicking in the door of the motel. I’m not excusing the heinous act of ripping my baby from me and locking me up, even if my cell was one of luxury. A cell’s a cell.

But Demyan wins some redemption points from the fact he looked after Sasha. Doted on him. That, and he let me out.

If we’re to do this. Be parents, give Sasha everything, then I have to look past the bad. He hasn’t lifted a hand against me or Sasha and it’s clear his staff respects him.

What had Olga said? He’s a good man.

I need to hold on to that. Sasha should have two parents and maybe?—

That line of thought stops here. We had a night of passion and we got Sasha, that’s it. No matter what, my dreams and fantasies might sometimes whisper.

Demyan’s talking about Sasha’s love of sugar and how we need to control it. I laugh. “Try to control it,” I say.

“I’ve tried.”

“Tiny doses. Treats. No sugary cereals.”

His lips press into a thin line, and I know Sasha managed to get some out of him. I change the subject. “I know nothing about you.”

“Your brother didn’t tell you? ”

“He said to keep away, you were bad news. But… I’m here now.”

“Against your will.”

My cheeks burn. “If we’re going to do this, then that needs to stop. We both make an effort. I’m here because I want Sasha to know his father.” Now .

“I’ve got my hand in a number of pies. Different business ventures. I took over some of them from my father when he died, and the rest I’m building from strength to strength.”

An empire. I don’t say the words, but that’s what it sounds like. “Were you close to your dad?”

A bitter laugh escapes as Demyan shakes his head. “Far from it. He idolized Alina, though, so that’s one thing in his favor.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Why?”

I take a sip of the coffee, cradling the cup in both hands. “Because… because no child should feel that, or be hurt like that. I’m glad he loved Alina, but if he didn’t show you the same love, it’s cruel.”

“Hey,” he says, setting his coffee down. “You talk like you knew him. And yours?”

“They were good. I never knew my father, but my stepfather was a nice man.” I take another sip. “But we’re talking about you, not me.”

“My father was a fucking cunt, if you want the truth. At least he taught me how not to treat children.” He pauses. “I hope.”

And my heart hurts for him.

Kara would call me gullible, tell me this is why I needed to get out and date like a normal person and stop using the excuse of Sasha as the excuse to not letting a man in.

She’s wrong .

I just want to devote my time to my son, to give him the best. After all, I’m doing double parent duty.

Or was.

“You’re doing a good job.”

“You think?”

I nod. “Apart from locking me up.” I rush past my tease. “And it’s clear you never let your father’s favoritism affect your relationship with Alina. I can see how you love her, and she worships you.”

“She offered to help you run away,” he says dryly. “So I don’t know about that.”

But I don’t miss the pride in his voice.

“I think that was a test, and she just buried Max.”

“Honestly? I don’t think I could be mad at her.”

I smile, thinking about Tom. “Well, your love for her says a lot about you as a person.”

Demyan shrugs. “She’s my only family.”

“There’s Sasha.”

He dips his head as he smiles. “I’d do anything for those I love.”

“Can we… can we start fresh? Keeping him from you might have been wrong, but it was out of love. I’d do anything to protect him. But now? He deserves to know his father, and you deserve to get to know your son.”

He turns and looks at me, and it’s hard to breathe. With shaking fingers, I set down the coffee.

“I have every intention of being there for my kid, Erin. And you, too.”

“Me?” My fingers grip the hem of my dress. I’m not family, hell half of me is hoping he’ll allow me in, like he is now, but he’s talking about a family unit, isn’t he? “Me?”

“You’re the mother of my child.”

“I don’t need your financial help, that’s not what I mean by wanting you to be a part of his life. This is about him, not me. I don’t expect anything. I know we need to work out the living arrangements, and?—”

“There’s nothing to discuss. You both will live here and at my penthouse in the city.”

“And how do you explain me to your dates?”

“Dates?” He laughs. “No one’s fucking dating, Erin. You’re his mother. We’re a family and we’ll act like one. You really think I’m going to let another man touch you?”

“I really think you might be overstepping lines.” I’m not about to date, but I’m not being forced into a pseudo wife role while he galivants around town screwing whoever. “It’s not the dark ages, and it’s not one rule for you and another for me. We can co-parent as separate entities, Demyan.”

“No.”

“No?”

My insides clench, and I ignore the buzzing need his arrogant, primal words ignite in me. I hate men like this, so why the hell is it turning me on? I press my thighs together.

He slides a hand down around my throat, warm, no real pressure, and he gently coaxes me to look at him.

His ice-blue eyes burn. “I don’t give a fuck what you think. You’re not dating and neither am I. You and me? We’re a family. We’ll get married and raise him together.”