slowly ventured over. Dirt stained her feet, which she trekked over the carpet. I almost mentioned it, but as she came around to the camera, Natasha exclaimed, “What are you talking about, Konstantin? Elena is, too, beautiful.”
Elena glanced to me. “You said I wasn’t?”
“Never.” I turned to my niece and warned, “Do not play tricks.”
Natasha laughed and held up Evgeni. “Elena, do you like my pet?”
She leaned closer to the screen, her hair falling down to the desk. The silky strands caught the growing morning light that slanted in through the windows.
“Mexican redknee tarantula,” Elena remarked. “Very beautiful.”
Natasha froze. I almost checked if the video call had glitched but then she said suddenly, “Yes, he is.” She brought Evgeni closer to her chest, almost cuddling him. “Do you like bugs?”
“I prefer plants,” Elena said. “But I do appreciate a good bug.”
Natasha looked completely enamored with Elena. I understood the feeling. “What is your favorite?”
“Monarch butterflies.” Elena didn’t even hesitate.
“Had that lined up, did you?” I mused.
She looked down at me. “They’re incredibly poisonous but do not look so.” She looked back to my niece. “It’s an interesting dichotomy.”
“I own many monarchs,” Natasha said. “I shall name the next one born after you.”
Natasha hadn’t even named a creature after me. She had taken name suggestions, but I had never been honored with a namesake.
Elena looked faintly amused by Natasha’s offer. “Thank you, Natalia.”
“Call me Natasha.” I was surprised my niece had invited a near stranger to refer to her by her nickname.
Her eyes flickered between Elena and me. “Do you need my uncle? Do not let me interrupt.”
“I was sent by Danika.” Elena’s green eyes flashed down to me. “Something about Ainsworth.”
“The teeth remover?” Natasha asked. “Then you must go, Uncle Kostya. We will speak later, yes?”
“Of course.”
We said our goodbyes—Elena getting her own personal wave from Natasha and a promise she would be sent a photo of her namesake.
“I like your niece,” Elena said the moment the screen turned black.
I smiled and looked over to her. Our eyes met. “She likes you, too.”
“How old is she?”
I didn’t answer Elena immediately. Her expression was bright in interest, the same look she got when something had captivated her attention. From a sly comment Roman’s way to Danika to the huge dogs in the garden, that look was reserved only for things she deemed interesting.
Interesting Elena was difficult but holding her attention was nearly impossible.
“Seventeen. Very young,” I said. “She is my oldest brother’s daughter.”
“Back in Moscow?”
I nodded, tilting my head down, bringing our faces closer together. The smell of her, myrrh and cinnamon, settled deep in my lungs as I breathed deeply.
“The same family you left?” Elena asked, her voice tight. She didn’t break our gaze, didn’t step away.
“I killed the patriarch,” I said. “That behavior doesn’t make you very popular.”
Something flickered in her eyes, something like understanding. “Why did you come to the States...instead of taking Moscow?”
“Russia has never belonged to me. It has always belonged to Natasha.”
“She seems very young to be a Pakhan,” Elena said softly.
“She will be, but she is not Pakhan yet,” I replied. “She is not ready.”
She sunk her teeth into her bottom lip in thought. Blood roared in my ears.
Elena was too close to ignore, too close to shove away the filthy images that flickered through my brain. I could see her leaning back on the desk, head and neck tipped back, as I took her. Her cries of pleasure resonated through my brain. Moans and noises that would only belong to me.
No other man had ever had them. Not even Thaddeo.
“Does your family want Natasha to be Pakhan?” Elena wondered, oblivious to what was happening inside my mind.
“No,” I murmured, voice low and husky. “But they do not get a choice.”
She registered my expression. I expected her to turn away, to deny me again, but her lips parted, letting out a breathy sigh.
“Elena,” I gritted out. “Don’t look at me like that if you do not intend to accept my offer.”
Her cheeks pinkened, but the stubborn set to her lips meant she was trying to ignore it, and expected me to do the same. “I...” She swallowed. Her eyes danced down to her hands, darting to the word wanton. “I’m not looking at you a certain way. This is just my face.”
I laughed softly. The noise made her nostrils flare. “If that was your constant expression, I would’ve had to kill half of New York.”