Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 77879 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77879 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
I blinked at her, completely dumbfounded.
Alina gestured lazily toward the others, her tone light but cutting. Telling the others that she was not to be fucked with on this.
She was setting the tone and laying down the law. Which under any other circumstances I was pretty sure would be up to Samara, or maybe Viktoria. The power structure between Gregor and Artem was still a little confusing.
But in this, at least, the others looked toward Alina.
“I—” I had absolutely no idea how to respond to any of that.
“Do you think you’re the first woman here to spill blood in this family? The first one of us who had to make a hard choice? Or was put in a position that you had to act violently to save yourself?” She smirked at me. “Honey, if you do, then you haven’t been paying attention.”
Her words hit like a well-aimed shot.
A shift rippled through the room—subtle, but it was there. Then all at once it was like the tension seized and then dissipated, like a breath held too long, or shoulders relaxing after a massage.
There was a flicker of something almost like acceptance. Just like that, all the hostility in the air melted.
“Excuse you, I do not pretend to be perfect,” Yelena said in mock outrage. “That’s just how I am.”
All of us collectively let out a snort, and Samara rolled her eyes.
The conversation shifted to sharing stories of the various injuries the women had inflicted on the men they loved during their unusual courtships.
Everything from Yelena’s hitting Damien with a brick, to Alina stealing Pavel’s gun. And how both Marina and Viktoria had learned the hard way that train travel had benefits and drawbacks when it came to quick escapes.
For the first time in years, perhaps ever, I felt like maybe I could belong.
Like maybe, just maybe, I didn’t have to fight alone.
Viktoria got out of the pool and moved to a little metal cart I hadn’t noticed until now. Large metal domes covered plates, and as Viktoria uncovered them, she revealed several full glasses of cucumber water, plates of fresh fruit, and caviar with bellinis laid out by the staff.
One by one, we all got out of the pool, wrapped ourselves in towels and robes, and sat around on the comfortable patio furniture. I had to admit; this was probably the nicest basement I had ever seen.
It really was like a private resort.
A little oasis in the middle of a lot of chaos. I could get used to that.
The girls started chatting about some gallery, everyone relaxing and talking more freely. A few times they even pulled me into the conversation. It was casual, comfortable, and I really liked it.
Viktoria and Alina talked about their online classes, and Alina wondered out loud if they could go back to in-person classes now that I was going to be one of them.
Viktoria snorted and said probably not. Artem had gotten a little too used to interrupting her study sessions.
Soon after, the nanny stepped inside, a baby nestled in her arms and a small toddler clinging to her skirts.
Nadia’s baby and Samara’s toddler.
Everything changed.
The women melted instantly, softening for the child who pretended to be shy for a moment because she liked to bask in the attention. Laughter filled the space where only cool silence had once been.
Genuine laughter, not mocking, not forced or fake. But the sounds of an actual happy family.
I watched, detached, as they fussed over the baby and teased Alina about her own pregnancy, talking about names and how they were the most important decisions anyone could ever make.
I supposed for a lot of women, they were.
“Do you want children, Zoya?” Samara asked when it was her turn to hold the baby.
The question was genuine, and it was a natural question in the situation. But it still landed like a blow.
“You should,” Nadia said warmly, lifting Samara’s toddler to her knee. “Roman is wonderful with kids. He’s always wanted them, a family of his own. Even with all the complicated feelings around his own parents, kids have always just seemed like an inevitability for him. Roman will make a fantastic father.”
I opened my mouth, and the air was ripped from my lungs.
My vision blurred at the edges.
How stupid could I have been?
I allowed myself to believe—just for a second—there was a chance for me here. That I could find a way to belong and make a life among this family, be a part of something bigger. That just maybe, despite everything that happened and everything I did, I could make this work.
I should have known better. I thought I could be a part of this before I remembered what I was.
Before I remembered the one truth that I could never escape.
Reality always came crashing back down.
I could never give Roman what he needed most.