ONE MONTH LATER
My attempts to get rid of the pest who has snatched away my daughter have come to an irritating dead end.
I had hoped that with time, the young love haze would slowly fade and we’d have our sunshine back.
That slimy fucker had the audacity not only to steal her, but to also make her fall in love with him so deeply that she’s become his designated defense attorney whenever anyone attempts to take a jab at him.
We wouldn’t be in this predicament if I hadn’t saved him that day seventeen years ago, but the fact remains that he was only a kid back then, and I would’ve upset the other important woman in my life if I’d left him to die.
What I could’ve done instead was send him to another nook in the planet he wouldn’t have been able to crawl out of. An option my wife laughed at when I mentioned it.
“You can’t stop fate, Adrian,” is what she told me with that soft smile of hers that makes me look forward to new days.
“I can still try,” I replied, and she just shook her head.
I meant it. Not only will I not stop trying, but I will win. Whatever way possible.
It’s why I cut a meeting with the brotherhood’s inner circle short and came home.
My daughter and her definitely-not-boyfriend are visiting today. Together.
After that shitshow on the island, Annika chose to continue with college in the UK. She didn’t give up on ballet, but she’s now taking it as a passion instead—something that’s part of her that she doesn’t necessarily need to go the professional route with.
A decision that made Lia happy. Even though she originally promised to support whatever choice Annika makes, I know that whenever Annika danced, my wife saw the demons of her past feasting on our daughter.
No matter how much we tried to convince her that they wouldn’t share the same story, she just wouldn’t believe it.
So the fact that Annika has willingly chosen to stay away from the spotlight has given her the peace of mind she constantly lacked before our daughter decided to have ballet as a passion.
I stop near the threshold at the sound of laughter coming from the back entrance.
I stalk to the joyful noise, something that’s become a constant in my and Lia’s life ever since Annika came along.
Jeremy was a quiet kid, and maybe that has to do with all the demons he witnessed me and his mother battle. He was nowhere as energetic as his little hellion sister who brought the whole house down from the time she was an infant, had my veteran ex-Spetsnaz guards chase after her as a toddler and lose, and had me, her mother, and brother wrapped around her pinkie finger.
Sure enough, when I reach the back garden, I find my daughter sitting beside the motherfucker, her hand in his, laughing at something Yan said.
My gaze strays to the beautiful woman who’s also laughing, her features bright and welcoming.
A deep breath spills out of my lungs whenever I see her. It’s a mixture of relief and wretched longing.
I’ve been married to that woman for over twenty-four years, and she’s still the only person who’s able to tame the chaos brewing inside me.
The only woman for whom I’m willing to sacrifice everything I have to see her smiling freely like that.
I just never thought I’d have to let go of my daughter instead.
Lia flat-out apologized to Creighton when we brought him with us that day. I wanted to kick the slimy bastard in the balls for pulling those twisted memories out of my wife.
She said she was sorry he’d had such a terrible childhood and parents and she regretted playing a role in that.
To my fucking surprise, he apologized back for being the biological son of the man who hurt her.
Annika looked proud as fuck. I narrowed my eyes, waiting for a scheme, a hidden motive, but there was no trace of either on his face.
Ever since then, Lia has basically adopted him as her third child. She easily fell in love with him and even started to make his favorite meals whenever he comes over.
The other day, they were texting back and forth about some stupid recipe. According to my daughter, he doesn’t reply to texts from his own friends and family.
He apparently doesn’t mind doing that with my wife.
Though Lia does have that quiet, spellbinding energy, where she’d capture anyone’s heart without even trying. A fact due to which I tried my best to keep her shielded from the world once upon a time.
I still want to lock her up so no one but me can see her, where only I’m her world as much as she is mine, but I recognize how much she needs to be out there.
My reward is having her willingly come back to me every night, to willingly seek refuge in my arms, and willingly want to spend time alone.
That’s the best gift I could ever receive.
“Try this, Creigh. I made it.” Annika scoops out what looks like some sort of appetizer and places it near his mouth.
The fucker-on-borrowed-time actually opens his lips and eats. Without a change of expression.
It’s Yan and Lia who wince, sharing a look.
“What do you think?” my daughter asks with expectant glee.
I’m ready to pummel him to the ground if he so much as changes that expression, but he nods. “Pretty good.”
“I knew it!” She glares at Yan. “See? I told you someone likes my food. It’s all about perspective.”
“You really okay there, man? Want me to call an ambulance?”
“Yan!” my wife chastises.
“No, something is wrong with the kid, Lia. He actually eats the things your food terrorist of a daughter cooks.”
“Wanna die?” my daughter asks with a murderous expression.
She got that one from me.
“Don’t call her a food terrorist,” Creighton says point-blank, earning a wide grin from Annika and a motherly smile from my wife.
“Boom,” Annika says, unable to hide her boasting expression. “Mic drop.”
“The sorry fuck is too in love to see how horrible your food actually is. Listen, kid, love won’t save you when you’re driven to the ER because of food poisoning.”
“I’m going to kill you,” Annika announces and proceeds to try and stuff him with her appetizers, but Creighton snatches them and starts to eat them all.
Christ.
The little shit might have a death wish, after all. In this house, we don’t eat Annika’s food or else there will definitely be some form of food poisoning. Or stomachaches. Or just plain inconveniences.
She tends to use what she thinks is beneficial for health out of context, like honey with spicy food or some nutriments with seafood. And she has no sense of how much salt she should put in any dish.
We know she means well, so Lia, Jeremy, and I usually tell her not to cook. Kolya and the other guards try to be diplomatic about it, too.
Only that fucker Yan told her the truth directly and has long since labeled her a food terrorist.
Creighton King is the first person who’s eaten her food willingly and even compliments her for it.
However, I refuse to warm up to him due to that gesture. Or the fact that he’s the one who made Annika abandon whatever suicidal thoughts she had on that island.
I haven’t told Lia about that episode and ordered everyone not to. It would ruin her to know that dark thoughts have invaded our daughter’s mind and we almost lost her.
But we didn’t.
Because Creighton was there and managed to tug her from the edge of nothingness.
It’s mostly because of him that I still have my daughter in one piece. But it’s also because of him that she got to that state, so I will be considering that incident neutral.
“How is that girl?” Lia asks Creighton while Annika chases Yan with a flower because he keeps calling her a food terrorist.
“Girl?” he echoes with a hoarse throat—definitely not as unaffected with the food as he claims to be.
“The one who told us about where you took Annika.”
“Cecily?”
My wife nods.
“Do you really want to know?”
She inches closer, her soft features creasing. “Why? What happened?”
“You do realize that Jeremy didn’t get that information out of her by being a good sport, right?”
My wife swallows. “I figured as much. He…can be cold-blooded, he takes that after his father, but they do have a heart beneath it all, I promise.”
“That’s what my mother says about my brother, and the worst part is that she believes it, but we all know he’s a functioning psychopath.”
“Jeremy isn’t a psychopath.”
“In view of what he’s done, he’s probably worse.”
“What did he do?”
“I promised him I’d stay out of his way if he stays out of mine, and I’d like to keep that truce. Not for self-serving purposes, but for Annika’s sake. She doesn’t like it when we clash.”
Lia nods in understanding, and I want to haul my son back from the other side of the ocean and shake the fuck out of him.
He’s not supposed to accept Creighton this easily, or fast, no matter what type of deal they struck.
Though after Annika shot Creighton to save him, his disapproval was slowly subsiding anyway.
“I hate to see her go, too, but maybe we should let Annika make her choice this time, Dad,” is what he told me the last time we saw each other.
That’s obviously because of whatever deal he struck with this little shit.
Said little shit gets up, whispers something to Annika that she pauses her antics with Yan to hear, then she smiles widely at him.
He walks toward the house and I hide out of view as he goes into the bathroom, probably to wash his face or throw up whatever she fed him.
When he emerges, I don’t bother to hide and he pauses before he heads in the direction of the garden.
I block his path and he stops, raising a brow. “Is this my welcome? Or do you have a gun hidden somewhere to threaten me with?”
“You’re awfully talkative today.”
“And you’re suspiciously not threatening me with bodily harm.”
“We’ll get to that point in a few.”
“By all means. Let’s get the tedious chore over with.”
“Was that sarcasm?”
“Was it? Annika is rubbing off on me.”
This little fucking shit will be buried six feet under before my wife and daughter wake up tomorrow.
He takes a step toward me, all nonchalance vanishing from his face. “I’m happy to indulge in whatever threatening kink you have going on, and I won’t tell Annika or Lia about it, but I’m telling you right now that you won’t be able to get me away from what’s mine.”
“What the fuck did you just say?”
“Mine. Annika is mine, and no one will change that fact, not even you.”
“Annika will get over you eventually.”
“Keep dreaming, Adrian, and while you’re at it, I’ll become your son-in-law. We’ll work hard to give you beautiful grandchildren.”
“Not if you somehow end up dead before that. And who gave you permission to call me by my name?”
“I don’t like Mr. Volkov. Too long.”
Either this fucker is bold or he has no care whatsoever for his life. Or probably both.
“Also, if you’re so territorial, how come you still haven’t done something about him?”
I turn around so that we’re both facing the scene in the garden. Annika splutters on water and Lia bends over laughing at something Yan has said while he grins like an idiot.
“He’s a fucking clown who doesn’t know his place,” I mutter under my breath.
“Which you should’ve taught him a long time ago,” Creighton says with an equally displeased tone.
“You think I haven’t tried? He bounces back up like a parasite whose sole purpose is to piss me off.”
“Annika mentioned that you’ve often threatened to ship him to the Special Forces back in Russia. Is there a reason that hasn’t happened?”
“See that woman?” I tilt my head in my wife’s direction. “That’s the reason.”
“You can still do it now.”
“He’s too old.”
“Could he be put in an administrative post?”
“Possibly.” I share the first look of understanding with the little fucker. At least we both can’t stand Yan.
Or more accurately, how close he is to the two women out there.
When we walk upon the scene together, Yan doesn’t even bother to stand up and continues sipping from whatever cocktail Ogla has made for them.
It’s Annika whose expression lights up like fireworks upon seeing me with her still-not-her-boyfriend and not actually threatening to throw him into the nearest ditch.
She’s been his spokesperson, manager, and PR specialist ever since the island and has used every trick under the sun to make me warm up to him.
Such as mentioning his protective episodes and that he’s worse than me and Jeremy combined. Or how he learned to cook because he doesn’t want her to get tired—more like he doesn’t want to go through the torture of consuming her food.
Or how he slowly mended her relationship with the friends she made in the UK by telling them that they’d lose him, too, if they reproached her about what happened.
I still plan to give him hell. Even if, deep down, I know he genuinely cares for her.
My daughter jumps up from her chair and runs into my arms. “Papa! I missed you.”
I stroke the top of her hair as she squeezes me tight. As much as I hate to admit it, Annika has grown into a responsible adult ever since the fucker on my right came into her life.
She needed the pain of loss and real-life experiences to shed that naiveté and actually grow into her own person.
“Are you sure?” I ask when we break apart. “Because you barely text me anymore.”
“Oh, please. You don’t even like texting, Papa, and I FaceTime you all the time when you come to steal away Mom.”
She runs to Lia’s side and hugs her. “She’s also my mom, you know.”
“My wife first.”
“Sorry, unlike you, I’m related to her by blood. That gives me more privileges.” She grins like a little daredevil.
“Stop it, Anni.” Lia laughs, but she hugs her back. That little spoiled brat was always a mommy’s girl. When they’re next to each other, they look like sisters instead of mother and daughter.
I sit down with a grunt and glare at Yan.
“What?” he mouths.
“I’m going to kill you.”
“Whatever for?”
“The little show you just put on.”
“I wasn’t touching anyone.”
“Still counts.”
“Stop being jealous of my charming qualities and the fact that I can make Lia laugh while you can’t, grumpy old man,” he murmurs back, then swiftly gets up before I choke the fuck out of him.
He’s also saved by the fact that Lia disappeared inside, probably to see if she can help Ogla with anything.
I catch up to her and pull her by the elbow before she reaches the kitchen.
My wife slams against me with a gasp. My cock throbs as she stares up at me with those huge, absolutely mesmerizing eyes.
I love when I reflect in those eyes, when I’m the center of her world as much as she’s the orbit of mine.
When she looks at me like she never wants to leave.
“Adrian…” she breathes out. “What is it?”
“I didn’t get my welcome home kiss. Have you forgotten about me now that Annika and the little shit are here, wife?”
“I wouldn’t dare.” Her voice lowers as she pulls me down by the lapel of my jacket, gets on her tiptoes, and brushes her lips against mine.
Lia’s kiss is gentle, but it’s imploring and passionate.
It’s nowhere near my brutal claiming, but it’s an invitation for it. My wife knows full well that I get off on her softness and the knowledge that she wants me to seep inside and break it.
Every night.
Every chance I get.
Her lips release mine too soon and she gets back on her feet, licking her lower lip, chasing my taste in a way that gets me even harder. “Welcome home, Adrian. I missed you.”
“Didn’t look that way when you were laughing with the two fuckers outside.”
“I can’t believe you’re still reproaching Yan after all these years.”
“He’s a provocative motherfucker and you know it.”
“That’s because he’s trying to mess with you and you kind of let him.” She smooths an invisible wrinkle from my jacket. “As for Creighton, you’re being unreasonable. We wronged him, but he loves our daughter enough to let all of that go. You need to let go of your imaginary grudge, too.”
“Like fuck I will. The bastard just threatened me that he’ll become my son-in-law and give me grandchildren.”
She laughs. My wife’s head tips back, bearing her pale throat as my ears fill with the delighted sound of her laughter.
“How is any of this funny?” I try to sound stern, but I love the sound of her laughter too much to actually be mad.
“Looks like he learned how to mess with you, too. Good for him. I really like that kid.”
“Which makes me like him even less.”
“Oh, stop it, Adrian. He’s the best thing that’s ever happened to Anni, and if you weren’t so judgmental, you’d know it, too.”
I grunt but say nothing.
Lia skims her fingers over the dip in my brows, her voice dropping. “I hate it when you’re all upset. How can I make you feel better, husband?”
A groan spills out of me when she rubs her stomach against my growing erection.
“Repeat that.”
“Husband,” she says again and I tighten my grip on her hip, feeling her shudder.
“Upstairs. Now.”
“But the kids are here.”
“They can wait.”
When she hesitates, I carry her in my arms bridal style. Lia yelps even as her arms encircle my neck.
Her fingers stroke the short hairs on my nape. “Did I mention lately that I love you?”
“No.”
“I think I did this morning.”
“I must’ve forgotten.”
She grins as she whispers, “I love you, Mr. Volkov.”
“And I love you, Mrs. Volkov.”
I might have partially lost my daughter, but I’ll always have my wife.
The woman who accepted me as her villain and fell in love with me in spite of it.
