by Bree Porter
Even if he was as quiet as a mouse, I would still be able to feel his presence a few metres away. I would still know he was showering and sleeping and dressing just a few feet from where I was.
I was going to drive myself insane if I kept ruminating over it.
“Dinner is in a few hours,” Roksana said. “You should come.”
I helped Nikolai up onto the bed. He immediately began jumping.
“Don’t fall off and crack your head open,” I ordered. To Roksana, I said, “Yeah, we’ll see.”
She sighed. “I know what that means. I’m serious–it’ll be good for Niko and Danika would love it.”
I leaned against the bed post. Nikolai and Danika were my soft spots. “You’re quite the manipulator, you know? Here I was thinking you were the good one.”
Roksana laughed prettily. “How do you think I’ve survived in this world so long?” I felt my own smile grow. “Dinner’s at six. Don’t be late.”
I inclined my head.
As she went to leave, she called back. “Oh, and Elena?” She gestured to our children. “They are the only good ones. The rest of us are adults.” Roksana left in a swirl of movement.
I didn't go to dinner.
The clock reached six and I didn't leave my room.
Nikolai didn't notice his mother's contemplating, too excited and interested in his new environment. He spent hours digging around the room and ensuite, opening every door and pulling on every doorframe. I stopped him from breaking the decor more than once.
I sat on the bed and watched him, knees close to my chest.
The clock was in front of me, it's incessant ticking never faltering or stopping, even though I desperately needed a few minutes just to process how I got from a pharmacy in a small town back to the place I was running from.
Just give me five seconds, I begged the clock.
It continued to tick.
When the clock struck seven, there was a knock at the door.
Nikolai stopped mid-run, turning his head to the door. "Mama?" He prompted when I didn't move.
The knock came again.
I wanted to ignore them, but from the smell wafting under the door, they had brought dinner. Nikolai would be hungry and he deserved a nice warm meal, especially after eating berries and gas station snacks for the past week.
I expected either Roksana or Danika to be at the door but instead Artyom's 6'2 form loomed over the threshold. In his hands were two plates filled with steaming food.
"May I come in?" He asked.
I stepped aside and watched as he brought the plates to the small table and chairs, meant for tea and crumpets.
Nikolai went straight towards the food, eyes wide. "For me?"
"Yes, for you and your mother." Artyom set out the knives and forks. "This one's for you, Nikolai. Here–"
Artyom helped Nikolai up onto the chair.
I stepped forward with the intent of snatching Nikolai away from him, but my son greedily dug into his dinner, looking so happy that I couldn't bare risk his tears.
"Thank you," I breathed. "For not saying anything."
Secrets circled between us. Artyom must've let Konstantin in on some of them–why else would he be freezing out the man he consider his brother so cruelly?
Artyom flickered his dark eyes to me. "Do not thank me, Elena. I didn't do you a service." He glanced at Nikolai. "Or him one."
My son continued to eat, making a mess as he stuffed his face.
I had suspicions as to why Artyom had kept my secrets. Still, I wanted his confirmation, wanted to be proven right.
"Why didn't you say anything?"
Artyom's face didn't reveal anything. Not that it ever did.
"Why?" I prompted.
"Come to dinner tomorrow," he said instead of answering. Perhaps even Artyom didn't know the answer to my question.
"No."
"I won't bother asking you why not. I'll save us both from having to endure a lie." Artyom continued to watch my son, features softening momentarily. "It's uncanny...how similar they are."
My entire body tensed. I knew already, I didn't need the reminder. "Thank you for bringing us dinner, Artyom. You can leave now."
His brows rose in faint humour. "Of course, Elena. Enjoy."
As he went to leave, he paused by the door and rested his hand on the doorframe.
"The answer to your question..." Our eyes met. "I would do anything to protect my family, Elena. Anything."
I felt my brows burrow. "You were protecting Konstantin?"
For a moment, I thought Artyom might laugh. Instead he just shook his head, face bright with amusement. "No. Not Konstantin." He left without another word, just like his wife had done.
Dinner was delicious, and watching my son so delighted over the mashed potatoes made the past seventy-two hours well worth it. When he was done, I dressed him in a pair of Anton's pyjamas and tucked him into bed. Within seconds he was asleep, his little chest rising and falling as his head filled with dreams.
I thought sleep would evade me, but I fell quickly into the snare of nightmares. I dreamt about Titus standing beside the bed, smile cruel and hand stroking Nikolai's blond head. When I tried to grab my son, she laughed and whispered, "Them or your son?"
I woke up covered in sweat, but in time to see the sun rise over the horizon, signalling the first day of my return to Konstantin Tarkhanov.
9
Elena Falcone
I laid in bed and stared up as the ceiling. The world outside was peaceful and soft, from the birds chirping in their nests to the buttery sunlight warming up the earth.
But inside of me, there was no mellowness. Instead, a dark and angry stormed stirred low in my gut.
The new day had brought with it clear thoughts–and had allowed me to process the past few days. Which meant I had time to organise all my thoughts and feelings, sorting them out like my brain was a pantry. Trauma on the top shelf, Konstantin in the containers, family on the spice rack and knowledge of poisons in the glass jars.
How dare Konstantin threaten to take my son away from me if I didn't follow his little plan? I taunted my own mind as I relived our first meeting after three years, going over every word and moment with such focus I was convinced I could re-enact the entire exchange.
How dare he drag me back to this place I left? How dare he, how dare he, how dare he–
He thinks he is entitled to you because you had his child, a voice said in my mind. For all his efforts, he is no different than the men who raised you, the ones who believe they own their wives wombs and all the fruit it bears.
Not me, Konstantin, I hissed to myself. You will not own me, you will not title me as your baby momma, as your mistress.
Some small rational part of me warned me that I was stirring myself up. I was making myself angrier than I had a right to be, but once the downwards spiral of thoughts began, it was hard to see the light. It was hard to remain calm.
My growing wrath encouraged me to do what I did next.
I lifted my head to check on Nikolai. He remained asleep, as cute as a cherub. I tucked him in, kissed his forehead and then went in search of a fight.
The entire manor was silent but I could spot soldiers and dogs roaming outside, moving in the shrinking shadows as they swapped shifts.
Konstantin wasn’t in his room but instead his personal study. It was different to the office downstairs, which served as both a place of work and informal meeting room. His personal study was warmer, with photos of his family on the walls and books piling up like mountains of dust.
I didn’t bother knocking, just walked in.
Konstantin was at the desk, pen in hand and documents before him. He didn’t look up as I slammed the door behind me, just continued his work.
It was uncanny how much this felt like the night I had left, but on the opposite spectrum. Like the colours were inverted, like it was upside down.
&nbs
p; “We need to talk.”
His pen didn’t lift off the page. “Oh?”
“Yes, we do.” I strode to the edge of the desk, blood already heating with the thrill of a fight.
Konstantin yelling at me would be so much better than his apathy, so much better than this empty and polite tension between us.
I slammed my hands on the mahogany. “You just found out you’re a father and you couldn’t give less of a shit? What is the matter with you?” I demanded. “Plus, I’m not stupid. You’re acting strange, everyone is acting strange. Like the entire Bratva is walking on eggshells. What did you do, you stubborn man?”
Konstantin laid down his pen, closed his document and slowly leaned back in his chair. Each movement was methodical and neat, but I could spot the anger inside him rising up to the surface.
“You have a lot of nerve,” he said quietly, softly, like a lover, “coming into my office and accusing me of wrongdoings.”
I crossed my arms over my chest, hiding my delight that he was taking my bait. Yes, fight with me, I cooed. Yell, scream. Let's battle, Konstantin. “You have a lot of nerve. I left you, Konstantin. I left and you have brought me back into the fold, the family, and shoved me into the room next to yours.”
His eyes flickered. "You called us for help.”
“I called Artyom for help.” I responded. “I don’t want anything from you.”
Liar, liar, liar. The word taunted me.
I needed a pen, marker, something with ink in it. Now.
“You’ve made that abundantly clear, Elena.” Konstantin purred. Anger clung to each word. “Don’t worry yourself about that.”
Because I don’t love you, Konstantin.
My parting words hung in the air between us like a wasp’s nest. Saying it had been pure agony and I had nearly confessed everything to Konstantin. He had offered me a kingdom, a marriage, a family, and I had turned it all away. To keep him safe, to keep them all safe.
I closed my eyes briefly.
Why are you starting this fight, Elena? I asked myself. You left to keep him safe. You have to protect them from Tatiana. It worked, didn’t it? She hasn’t touched a hair on their heads.
What will she do now that you have broken your side of the bargain?
“Where is he?” I asked before I could stop myself.
Konstantin’s brow furrowed. “Who?”
“The man I met nearly three years ago.” He didn’t respond. “The man who gave me a library and joked with his family. The man who was respected by his men before he was feared. I want to know where he is.”
His expression did not flinch. “I wish I could say the same. But the women I met all those years ago ran from her problems and has not stopped since.” A slow smirk grew up his face. “Are you tired yet, Elena?”
Exhausted.
I was so tired from the running and hiding and sneaking that some days I was amazed I woke up in the morning. I was amazed my heart hadn’t stopped beating from fatigue and my lungs hadn’t stopped breathing from weariness.
How could I even respond to that?
I have so little energy that sometimes I am more corpse than human. I am a lethargic creature whose sole purpose is to keep her son alive. My bones fall asleep at lunch and my brain is napping by noon.
Of course, I’m fucking tired, Konstantin, I wanted to snap.
Instead, I said, “You chose to love something poisonous, Kon. You can’t be mad when it makes you sick.”
“So it seems.” Konstantin gestured to the door. “I feel as if our little chat is over. Feel free to leave.”
“I’m not done yelling at you.”
He pressed his lips together. I could see his anger stirring beneath his calm exterior. “I am done discussing this.”
“I’m not.”
“You sound like Roman. Arguing your point like a petulant child.”
I almost laughed. “Oh, we’re talking about children now? That’s ironic. Considering you’re definitely not getting any Best Dad Ever mugs this year–or ever.”
That was the straw that broke the camel’s back.
Konstantin slammed his hand on the desk, the entire room shaking under the impact. I felt my heart skip a beat, the tiniest bit of fear growing in me.
He wouldn’t hurt me...Right?
“Enough! How dare you speak to me like this.” His voice sounded like thunder. “I am the Pakhan, the king. You are not in any position to challenge my authority, Elena.”
I put on a braver face than how I felt. “I can challenge any authority I might wish. Especially the father of my child’s.”
Konstantin shot to his feet. I had almost forgotten how much taller than me he was. I was so used to being one of the tallest in the room, not only in physical height but also in intellect and self-esteem.
I felt very small all of the sudden.
“You don’t get to punish me for a crime I wasn’t even allowed to commit,” he growled. “You took that child from me, took that child from his family. And then you named him Nikolai Falcone.”
I paused.
Wait, what?
“Falcone?” I echoed, tasting the surname on my tongue with each sour sound. “Falcone?”
“You could’ve given him at least a better surname. Agostino, Strindberg. But Falcone?” Konstantin growled. “Fucking Falcone?”
I laughed. I couldn’t help it. “You think I named him after a man I killed? A man who I hated so much I slowly poisoned him with foxglove every day so that his heart would eventually give out?” I threw my hands up in the air. “Have you even checked Nikolai’s birth certificate or are we just making wild accusations?”
Konstantin didn’t calm down. My amusement seemed to ignite his temper even more. “I have it on good authority.”
“Clearly not.” I said. “Because I was there that day when the birth certificate was filled out. You want to know his name is, Konstantin?”
His Adam’s apple bobbled as he gritted out, “What is it?”
“Nikolai Konstantinovich Tarkhanov.” My accent curled awkwardly around some of the vowels but I got the point across. “His name is Nikolai Tarkhanov, you sack of shit.”
Konstantin’s knuckles turned white as he gripped the desk and the wood groaned. I wasn’t sure if he was holding it so hard because he was preparing to throw it at me or if he was using the desk as the last barrier between us, his only way of stopping himself from lunging.
“When I told the midwife, she asked me how to spell it.” I said, the memory falling out of my mouth. “I told her. Then she asked me for the father’s name.”
“What did you tell her?”
I met his eyes. Beneath his anger, his madness, I could see something familiar. Sadness. Loss. Heartbreak.
“I told her the truth,” I said honestly.
Konstantin closed his eyes briefly, an effort to try and hide how he was feeling from me.
It didn't make much of a difference. Konstantin saw every part of me, and in return, I saw every part of him.
“When the threat is over, Niko and I will be out of your hair.” It hurt to say those words out loud but why? That had always been how this tale would end. “I won’t show up in thirty years claiming to have the heir to your throne and steal all the glory from your other kids. We’ll live a quiet life, a life out there.”
He said nothing.
“You won’t ever have to see us again.”
Then he laughed.
It was so startling, the purring, almost warm, laughter, that rumbled up his chest and out into the tension-filled air.
“No, no, my Elena.” He mused as he calmed down. “That is not how my son is going to live out his life.”
I didn’t like the way he said that.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“Nikolai is a Tarkhanov. He is my heir.” Konstantin rose from the desk, stealing all the air in the room as he did so. “The rest of his life will
be here. With his family, with his father.”
Arrogant bastard! “And without his mother? Yeah, that’s not fucking happening.” I snapped. “I’m his mother. He doesn’t even know your name.”
“He will,” Konstantin threatened. “Everyone knows the name Konstantin Tarkhanov and my son will be no exception.”
I growled. “And when it comes time for him to take his throne, I’ll pass him the damn necktie!”
“If you ask nicely, I’m sure he’ll let you be the one to do it.”
“What, Konstantin? You’re going to raise him beneath Titus’s blood reign? You’re going to read him bedtime stories and cut the crusts off his sandwiches while Tatiana gets revenge on anyone who ever laid a hand on her?”
Konstantin bared his teeth, lip curling up into a snarl. “You’re lucky I don’t want revenge, Elena.”
“Oh, that’s how it’s going to be, huh? Do I need to break out the old foxglove? You stupid mother–!”
“Mama?”
10
Konstantin Tarkhanov
Nikolai had opened the door, and now hung off the doorknob. He was wearing pyjamas that were too big for him, the pants cuffs drowning his ankles. Anton’s pyjamas–I had heard Roksana mentioning to Anton that he would be sharing for a little while.
Nikolai’s eyes were wide as he took in both his mother and me. His blond hair was ruffled from sleep and there was a crease of a pillow melded into his cheek.
He rubbed his eyes. “Mama?” He asked again.
Elena unfroze from where she had been standing. “My wild boy, what are you doing awake? You had a big day which means you need a big sleep.”
Nikolai peered at me and then back to his mother. “You were loud.”
I saw the muscles in Elena’s back tighten. She brushed down his hair. “Did we wake you up? Sorry, baby. We were just...We were just talking.”
For a toddler, he had a pretty advanced that’s bullshit expression. Though I assumed Elena carried that face in her genes and had passed it down as easily as her green eyes.
“Mmhmm.” He mumbled. “I was sleeping.”
“I’m sorry, baby. Let me put you back to bed.” Elena looked at me over her shoulder, eyes suddenly blazing. This isn’t over, her expression promised.