Page 124 of Silent Ties

Daisy will never celebrate another Christmas.

I cup her cheek, but after a moment her head falls forward. I wrap my arm around her shoulders into a side hug, Sailor still amused by the snowflakes.

“I’m sorry that you didn’t think you could come to me. That I didn’t protect you or Daisy. That it wasn’t me who killed Marissa,” I tell her.

And trust me, I’ve thought a lot about it. Dad keeps telling me to focus on my wife and daughter but there’s an irksome pang in my side when I think about the Ghost taking out the man who Marissa pimped Daisy out to. That at the very least, should’ve been my kill.

“Are you sorry you married me?” Russet asks.

I promptly drop her arm and grab a present. “I’m not sorry I married you, Mrs. Zimin. I’ll never be sorry about that. But I swear to God if you ask me for a divorce again I will ensure no bakery in this city ever sells you a cupcake again.”

“That’s a bit extreme, don’t you think?”

“Sweetheart, you have no idea how ser?—”

“Excuse me!” An enraged Elijah flings open the front door. “Get that baby out of the cold!”

Roma runs out into the driveway, but Elijah blocks him.

“Get out of the way, move.” Elijah plucks Sailor from my arms and marches off.

“That’s my fucking baby, you asshole.” I scowl.

“No one cares if you came to Christmas,” Roma tells me, slamming the door shut behind them.

Russet gathers the rest of the presents quickly. “We should probably?—”

I stop her. Are my brothers annoying? Yes. But they make fantastic babysitters.

I tilt her chin up, biting her lower lip. Her surprised gasp allows me entry and I claim her tongue, taking my time to explore.

“Come on,” I say against her lips. “Before I take you right here, right now.”

Her cheeks flush and it’s not from the cold. I smirk as I grab the last bag and shut the trunk.

Most would find it surprising but the famous Lev Zimin loves Christmas. And since my mom is back in Russia visiting family, we made the trek out here with Sailor.

There’s always been something about this place during wintertime. Despite the large, airy dimensions of the mansion, there’s something warm and cozy about the interior. The lights are a soft yellow and cloves and cinnamon fill the air. It’s loud, but not ear-splitting.

A twelve-foot Christmas tree is lit up with multicolored lights. Perfectly wrapped presents spill out from under it.

Elijah’s sitting in front of the tree, lifting Sailor above him. She gurgles making Roma smile. Albert, the Bernese mountain dog, thumps his tail as he watches.

“Oh, my darling girl.” Irina wraps Russet in a tight hug.

“Hi,” I offer, passing on by to deposit the gifts under the tree.

She squeezes my wife harder, ignoring me. Her smile is tender as she draws back. And like she knows Russet needs aminute, she shuffles over to her other grandsons. She demands to hold the baby in Russian, but Roma’s arguing for custody and Elijah’s not inclined to give Sailor up anyway.

The troublemaker kicks her legs out, but her eyes move around with delight at all the various Christmas decorations.

“Welcome home, son.”

Dad’s got his typical bottle of whiskey in his hand. He wears a suit jacket and a pair of black trousers but his shoulders are relaxed.

“You speak to your mom?” he asks, offering me some whiskey.

I smile in thanks but shrug in response to his question. “Roma told me she got in all right.”