put on poor Polina. She is getting older and . . . larger every day.” Nadia shot a glance at Gianna’s belly. “No offense, of course.”
“Mamma isn’t fat!” Kat yelled before anyone else could get a word in. “She’s growing my brother. And you’re rude!”
“Kat, what did I tell you?” Gianna chided with a small smile.
The little girl’s scowl at Nadia faded, then she mimicked the feigned look of pity she’d observed countless times this morning. “I’m sure you’re only so rude because of lots of past ’motional trauma.” Then she added, “No offense, of course.”
It was a violent struggle not to laugh knowing she got that “emotional trauma” bit from Ronan earlier. Nadia’s eyes narrowed, about to spit some retort at the little girl, but a frightening glare from Gianna changed her mind.
“’Sides,” Kat interjected, “Polina likes vegan. She told me so.” Kat looked at Nadia from under her nose. “Even Dyadya says he’s vegan because he puts vegan butter on his steak.”
A small smile touched my lips. I had seen him do that, and it was just like him to take the moral high ground with the barest of minimum effort.
Nadia rolled her eyes and glanced at her nails before saying, “So where is Ronan? I hope he is recovering in his room.”
Gianna and I laughed. So did Kat, though I thought maybe she was just picking sides here. Even having been shot yesterday, Ronan was probably out chopping wood. Or something else less manual-labory and more murdery.
“Dyadya is out with my papa,” Kat announced.
“Oh . . . I must have forgotten. He said something like that when he came to see me last night.”
Interesting. I wondered if he went to see her after I blew him and rode his face or before I passed out with him in his bed.
“I suppose I shall wait until he returns then,” Nadia sighed.
I’d rather be kidnapped by the real devil than sit through another moment of this.
“So, Mila, where do you plan to go after this?” Nadia asked coolly.
“Oh, I don’t know. I like Moscow so much, I might stay.” I was lying through my teeth, but her venomous expression made it so worth it.
“You. Are. Staying.” It was not a question.
“Well, why not?”
“You are Mikhailov,” she said as if the matter was obvious. “You do not belong here.”
“Where does it say that?” I asked with a frown. “I haven’t seen a single sign banishing Mikhailovs from Moscow.”
Her eyes hardened. “He will not let you stay.”
“Who?” I played dumb.
“Ronan,” she growled. “You are nothing but collateral to him. And maybe a fleeting amusement, like a fancy new toy, but I assure you, his interest will pass.”
I dropped my plate on the coffee table. “Is everyone on a mission to ruin my breakfasts?” I exclaimed. “And for your information, Nadia, I’ve never laid a claim on him.” I thought of his earlier dismissal that still burned in my chest. “As far as I’m concerned, you can have him.”
She gave me a disbelieving look.
The heat licking up my back forced me to my feet. “Congratulations . . . the mobster’s all yours.” My gaze narrowed. “Now, all you have to do is figure out how to keep him, because it doesn’t sound like you’ve been doing a very good job.”
Cheeks flaming, she jumped to her stilettos. Even with bare feet, I topped her by multiple inches. Considering the look in her eyes as she was forced to look up to meet my gaze, she hated it.
“You think I cannot keep him?” she asked derisively.
“Mamma,” Kat whispered, “is this passiveagressivness?”
“No, cara, this is just aggressiveness. Now, be quiet and pass me a pancake.”
A tense laugh escaped me. “Let me see . . .” I ticked each point off on my fingers. “One, you know nothing about him. Two, you’re so jealous you’re here harassing the captive he’s about to trade off like collateral. And three, you need a therapist. So no, I don’t think you can keep him. But I wish you all the luck.”
Over this in spades, I walked away, but a sharp tug on my hair drew me to a stop.
She. Pulled. My. Hair.
I gritted my teeth as a rage of resentment washed through me. Inhaling deeply, I decided to take the high road and walk—
“You are practically a slave here,” Nadia spit with malice. “I would like a drink. Fetch me one.”
What was the high road?
Without another thought, I grabbed a chunk of her ridiculously shiny hair and pulled, jerking