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Chapter Twenty-One

DEMYAN

I want Niko’s fucking head on a platter with every passing hour. It isn’t exactly original, but it’s effective.

Niko dead, Max avenged.

It’s not going to bring him back, but…

I rub my eyes as I get ready after my shower and head downstairs.

Apparently, Erin was quiet during dinner last night. I say apparently because when I woke—falling asleep hadn’t been on my agenda, neither had getting naked and fucking her—I left with Ilya on a mission for information.

I might insist to him that Sergio’s the only way forward and I believe that, but I’m more than open to falling into some luck and doing this job without the tangle of the odious Stefina.

Unfortunately, we came up with nothing, and by the time we finished, it was late, the mansion quiet, and I thought about going back to the city and to my penthouse rather than climbing into the bed that smelled like the summer, like Erin.

In the end, I slept on the sofa in my study.

Yesterday afternoon was… something .

Something good.

Important.

A turning point.

In the handful of days since seeing her again, even with the fury that fed a madness in me, Erin has a way of slipping under my skin, under my sinew. She opens things, makes them soft.

I want to explore her, spend time with her.

And not just because of Sasha.

He’s a bonus.

But this is like it was when we first met—that instant pull, a thing I didn’t understand but needed. A thing that could be passed off as simple lust, when there was nothing simple about it.

I want to do this.

Whatever this really is.

Marriage beyond name, marriage the way it’s meant to be.

Fuck me. I start pulling things out of the pantry and fridge to make breakfast. At first, I’m hesitant, but I start to grow in confidence and when Alina speaks, I nearly hit the roof.

I spin to face her.

“Magda’s going to kill you,” she says. There’s a tiny little spark in her eyes, one that tells me she’ll come out of this.

“No, she won’t; I’ll boil her for soup.”

“Too old and stringy, isn’t that what she said the last time you said that?”

I grin. “Maybe.”

“What are you doing?”

“Breakfast.” I wave a wooden spoon at her, dripping batter on the floor. “You seem a little better.”

Guilt crosses her features and I want to kick myself.

“It’s a good thing, Alina.”

“The grief comes in waves,” she says with a shrug. “Some days I want to give up and others, I think I can get through this.” She pours a coffee. “I know you said breakfast. Are you feeding an army? And what is this?”

“Sasha likes to eat.”

“He’s two.”

“I’m not sure what he wants.”

A small smile crosses her face. “You’re going to spoil him.”

“I just felt like cooking,” I say defensively.

“Do you even know how?” She picks up a pancake that’s burned on one side and a little pale on the other. “Actually, I’m not sure you do.”

“Keep that up, Angel, and you won’t eat at all.”

“I’m not sure that’s actually punishment.” And she steals a soggy piece of bacon. Then she looks me in the eye. “Is this for Sasha’s benefit? Or Erin’s? I’ve seen how you look at her, Demyan. And she’s so pretty.”

“Does there have to be a reason?” I snap, moving the bacon away from her.

“Mama, I’m hungry!”

Those damn words are music to my ears and I turn, heart stuttering as I catch sight of Erin. She’s in jeans and a simple pink T-shirt, and maybe I should insist on a no underwear, dress only rule.

I almost drop the bowl of pancake batter I’m holding.

Shit, where the fuck did that Neanderthalian thought come from?

But my sister’s right, she’s fucking pretty.

Beautiful, she glows in the morning sun’s clear, bright light, which highlights the blush streaking her cheeks—not to mention the darkening marks on her throat that appear as her hair falls around her while she hoists Sasha into his booster seat. “I think Demyan’s cooking for an army.”

The sweetness of her voice, along with the way she doesn’t quite look at me, stokes the fire of guilt .

I lost it with her when I found out about Sasha. The anger is still there, though, and it’s going to take a while to diminish, but I need to make the decision to let it go.

My father held on to the anger at my mother dying, something that wasn’t my fault, or hers, but he twisted it that way to cope with grief, and then he took it out on me. And instead of letting it go, he fed it.

I do not want to be that.

So I need to let it go, no matter how much of a security blanket it is.

But it’s all a work in progress. I make the pancakes and add them to the growing stack and Erin appears near me. “Do you need help? Extra table settings?”

“It’s just us, but you can cut some fruit.”

She nods and starts slicing melon, nectarines, apples, berries—no strawberries though, and she arranges them on a plate, selecting a small pile for Sasha that she puts in one of his special bowls.

“It’s a lot of food,” she says, not quite looking at me and I can taste her, feel her around me as I start cracking eggs to scramble them. “Breakfast just for us?” She watches as I add them straight to a hot skillet. “That’s not how you scr?—”

“I like to scramble this way,” I snap.

She moves away, fixing fresh juice for Sasha.

Fine, maybe I’m not sure exactly what I’m doing but my sister and Erin don’t know what they’re talking about. It’s the perfect amount of food.

When everything’s ready, I add eggs, bacon, and pancakes next to the bowl of fruit for Sasha.

Erin and Alina butter some toast. I shove a plate each in front of them. Alina rolls her eyes and Erin finally looks at me, a small smile that I don’t return, waiting for her to eat. She takes a small bite.

Sasha, on the other hand, digs in. One hand goes into the eggs, the other grabs watermelon, and then he shoves them both in his mouth at once.

Triumph fills me and I smirk. At least my kid likes my cooking. Clearly, he’s very smart.

When breakfast is done and the mess Sasha made cleaned up—honestly, he needs an award for the size of his messes in regard to the size of him, I offer to take him to a real park.

Alina’s gone to her room, the sadness pulling at her again, and Erin hesitates.

I put my hand over hers, and it’s warm, delicate, small. “She’s going to be okay, it’ll take time, and…” I take a breath because I think I’ve figured out the shyness in her this morning. “I had work to do so I left before you woke. I’d like for you to move into my room. Think about it.”

“The park sounds good,” she says, picking up Sasha. “I’ll get him ready.”

When we’re ready, Ilya discreetly hands me a picnic basket with, according to him, real snacks. Which will be bread, cheese, pickles, cured meat, and probably vodka.

We pile into the SUV with all the security and head to a park out of town that I know is safe.

Other kids are there, too, their parents picnicking. My security is good, able to blend, and the moment Ilya gets word it’s safe, we head in.

Sasha screams and does a mad dash to the swings and slide, veering last minute to the sandpit, and soon he’s playing with the other four kids, all around his age. They all scream in their laughter.

I find a shady spot and sit with Erin. For a moment I allow myself to bask in the fantasy of happy family, of us as normal people.

Right now, that’s what I am to this little part of the world. Just a dad out with his partner and kid. Not bratva, not a man with a vendetta or one who controls billions of dollars, half the power plays in Chicago, and many different lives. Just a man.

I like it.

And Erin… Other women would be trying to prove themselves to me. They’d have dressed up and talked me out of a park, or, because it’s my kid, made a show of having a good time while ignoring Sasha and focusing on me.

Erin’s the girl I met. Slightly self-conscious and also unaware of her power. She occasionally puts her hand on my thigh when she half rises as Sasha gets frightened at the top of the slide or falls in the sandpit, but it’s just natural.

I want more of it.

I want more of how her face lights up as she watches Sasha, the joy and emotions clear as day. She loves him like she can’t get enough of him.

I want that look too, I realize. Someone who sees me and sees the world. The unconditional. A big heart that just keeps giving to me, like she does Sasha.

I don’t deserve that, but the boy does.

And he’s not spoiled in that way some kids are. He’s nice to the other kids. He shares.

I shake my head as I look at her.

She turns. “What?”

“You did a wonderful job raising him, Erin. He’s a delightful and well-mannered boy. And because he’s loved, he can show his emotions. He’s amazing. Because of you.”

She blushes furiously. “It’s him. He’s incredible. I just guide.”

“I want you to move into my room. I want to… I want to get to know you. Tell me more about you.”

Erin laughs and dips her head. “Like what? I’m a mom, single. That’s it.”

“What made you stay with me at the hotel, Erin?”

Her eyes go big. “You’re hot, Demyan. Probably the sexiest man I’ve met. And… I thought… I thought, why not? You’d seen me naked, and you seemed interested. When my boyfriend cheated, it devastated me.”

My heart crushes down on itself, and I’m suddenly jealous of a man she’s no longer involved with. “You must have loved him.”

“Maybe once, but it’s not what I meant. He violated my trust, my sense of worth, and if the man who was meant to be with me wanted someone else, then what hope did I have? But you looked at me like I was a beautiful, desirable woman and that’s a powerful aphrodisiac.”

“I see.”

“You don’t. I’ve never done that before and even someone who looks like you who exudes power and confidence and that alpha male thing that no doubt gets you any woman you want might have gotten a no from me if he hadn’t cheated. If I hadn’t been alone for three months before that.

“It was out of character, but I was feeling like I needed to be someone else, just for a night.”

Her words play in my head. “Were you someone else?”