My heart breaks to see her reject me this way. But I’ve betrayed her and quite possibly, added to the childhood trauma she already suffered.
“Not to worry. I just wanted to see you to make sure you’re okay.” I won’t force her, but when she lifts her eyes to meet mine, I see the true extent of her strength.
“Irina ’kay,” she whispers, wringing her hands in front of her. “Ski ’kay?”
“Ski okay,” I affirm with a nod.
“Ski hurt?” she says, her lower lip trembling.
“No, цветочек. I’m all right. Just a scratch.”
I need to broach this situation tenderly. I won’t ask her now, but I need to know if what Serg said held any merit. However, what I do know is that I will not return her to the orphanage. I will call Mother Superior and ask for her blessing to adopt Irina.
I now have a home. A big home where I can keep her safe.
My lifestyle is far from suitable for a child, but I will try my best to be a good role model for her and ensure she has everything she needs.
Opening my arms, I offer her a choice. She can refuse, but when she lets go of Willow’s hand and runs toward the bed, I understand how deep her love for me is.
She boosts herself onto the mattress, then throws herself into my embrace. I flinch because my broken ribs are still healing, but I don’t let on that she’s holding me so tightly I can scarcely breathe because this is all I want.
“I’ll never let anything happen to you ever again,” I promise, kissing the top of her head. She smells like her again.
As we embrace, I suddenly remember we’re not alone.
Locking eyes with Saint, he appears to be pained, and I understand why. “Fine, we’re in.”
I nod in gratitude, drawing Irina closer to my chest.
Those who made the ones I love suffer are going to pay. I will inflict a lifetime of pain because Aleksei Popov is back…but unlike before, I have so much more worth fighting for.
Alek
“THAT IS HIDEOUS,” I spit from behind my large wooden desk as I peer up from my paperwork.
Nina Oblonsky, the interior decorator I hired, looks down from the ladder she stands on. The “artwork” she holds in her trembling hands resembles green vomit. “I thought you’d like it.”
“Well, you thought wrong,” I counter, pointing my gold pen at her. “Get rid of it immediately.”
“It’s modern, progressive,” she argues lightly. She soon seals her lips shut when I stare at her, unimpressed. She came highly recommended by Ivan Elin, my neighbor, who I suspect has dealings with stolen automotives.
In my very own backyard, I have the telltale signs of a chop shop.
I shall let Ivan know what I think of his recommendation when I request his Rolls Royce as payment for wasting my time.
“I don’t care what it is. If it’s not removed from my office in the next three seconds, I’ll ensure it and you are dealt with accordingly.”
“Yes, of course, Mr. Popov.” Nina quickly climbs down the ladder, taking her eyesore with her. “I’m so very sorry.”
She makes a swift beeline for the closed door, but we’re not done.
Placing my pen onto the desk, I stand. Thanks to my temporary limp, I now must use a cane for support. When I reach for it, the jewels on the gold cane topper catch the light emitted from the low hanging chandelier.
Some may see this cane as a weakness, but I do not. With my freshly pressed gray pinstripe suit and crisp white shirt and vest, I look the part of royalty. This cane is an extension of me and has proven to be quite the weapon—both literally and metaphorically.
Its ability to intimidate people into submission, like right now, is impressive.
“Ms. Oblonsky, did I permit you to leave?”
With her hand poised on the door handle, she turns over her shoulder, widening her green eyes. “No, I just thought—”
Raising my hand, I prohibit her from speaking another word. “Shh, shh. You’ll soon learn when in my company, it’s best if you don’t do that.”
She licks her red lips nervously. “Do what?”
With a smirk, I examine her slowly. “Think.”
She came in here with an agenda because what interior decorator wears a white dress so tight that I can see she isn’t wearing any underwear beneath? That bright red lipstick is also part of her ploy.