Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 56507 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 283(@200wpm)___ 226(@250wpm)___ 188(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56507 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 283(@200wpm)___ 226(@250wpm)___ 188(@300wpm)
Ania seems the same. We match each other so damn well in that way. I didn’t plan on that when I was arranging this. I didn’t plan on any of this.
Leaving the bathroom, I step into the large living room. Molly is lying on the couch with Henry in her arms. Sadly, Ania still hasn’t met her little brother. Molly looks up, smiling tightly. “How is she?”
“Scared and hurt,” I say.
“Hurt? How?”
“Not physically,” I murmur, sitting on one of the chairs.
“I didn’t handle that very well, did I?” she mutters.
“It’s understandable.”
“You’re too calm, Aiden.”
“Hmm.”
She strokes Henry’s head, kisses him, and says, “I want to see her.”
“That’s why I’m here, to see if you did.”
“I just need a few more minutes.” Molly takes a long breath. “When I saw her, it all came rushing back. I just wish you’d told me.”
“Hmm.”
Molly tilts her head, looking so much like Ania at this angle. “You wanted to tell me, didn’t you? Teddy wanted it to be a surprise?”
“That’s your business,” I tell her.
“So that’s a yes.”
“I’m not worried about what Dad did or didn’t do. I’m worried about that young woman who thinks her mother hates her.” I don’t mean for so much anger to come into my voice. Yet it’s there, plain and simple and impossible to avoid. “All her life, she’s probably been dreaming of that moment.”
Molly sighs, nods, then gestures for me to take my baby brother. I bring Henry into my arms, holding him as gently as a man like me can. I’m always worried that I’m going to hurt the little bundle. Not that I’d ever do it intentionally, obviously, but there’s a niggle at the back of my mind, a what-if. My hands weren’t made for caring.
“I should go speak with her,” Molly says, narrowing her eyes.
“Hmm?”
She grins, looking a lot like Ania again whenever I say hmm. They’ve got the same eyes and the exact shape of their cheekbones. “You seem very interested in her.”
I stroke my hand over my brother’s head. Deep down, there’s this thing growing, like maybe I could have a family one day—a feeling I’ve never experienced before. I should kill it. Fast. Yet some part of me doesn’t want to, a little part.
“She’s my sister.”
“No, she’s not,” Molly says. “She’s a stranger.”
“Are you seriously trying to set me up with your daughter? With the Sokolov princess? With a woman who’s going to bring hellfire down on us?”
Molly’s grin falters. “No, but … she’s not your sister. Maybe in a roundabout way, but not really.”
“What are you going to say to her?” I ask, trying to change the subject.
“I don’t know. I should probably start with sorry and go from there?”
I take a moment to realize she’s asking my opinion. “Yeah, that would be a good start.”
Molly sighs, standing up. “First, I’d like to take a shower. Would you take Henry to Priscilla?”
“Sure.”
Once Molly leaves, I carry Henry to his nursery and hand him to the nanny, doing my best not to seem intimidating. I always have to make a conscious effort with the staff. I’ve seen the way they look at me when they don’t think I can see. I’m a big, scary brute to them and many people, but what about Ania?
I find my father in his study, yelling into his phone. “Up the security, then! We will not allow these criminals to bully us.”
He slams the phone down, then leans back, chuckling the way he has, which contains no humor at all. It’s just a way for him to vent his rage. “It looks like these Sokolovs want to pretend they’ve got a heart.”
I wait for him to go on, taking a seat.
“They’ve beaten the three lodge burners bloody. They overstepped the mark, it seems.”
“They beat their own men bloody,” I muse, “for putting Ania’s life in danger?”
“I thought you said they weren’t their men?”
“True, but risking a war … They must’ve been pissed.”
“Family’s family,” Dad sighs, “but it changes nothing. We won’t let these bastards dictate to us.”
I don’t say anything. Dad’s always been the type to rant and vent, but I prefer to wait and see whenever possible. Then, when I act, I try to make it certain.
“Well?” Dad finally snaps. “What should we do?”
“What’s our objective?”
“To make them back off.”
“Then we should let Ania go,” I say, even if it hurts me and it’s the last thing I want. I must try to be cold and clinical and not let emotion rule me, which is an insane thing for me to have to focus on. I never cared about a damn thing before.
“Molly needs her daughter, and that poor girl grew up around criminals.”
I ponder his words, thinking about the fact the Sokolov brothers beat up the men who risked Ania’s life. In a fucked-up way, that puts them slightly closer to my good books.