Total pages in book: 49
Estimated words: 47716 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 239(@200wpm)___ 191(@250wpm)___ 159(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 47716 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 239(@200wpm)___ 191(@250wpm)___ 159(@300wpm)
She kissed him loudly on the cheek, pretty, little pink lips popping off his skin. The kiss was wet and Anton laughed, somehow managing to grimace and smile all at the same fucking time.
“Christ, Ana!”
Ana giggled, kicked her legs in his arms, and stuck a piece of the Hershey chocolate bar in her mouth. Her sticky, chocolate covered hand smacked to his cheek right over the spot where her sloppy kiss could still be felt. Tiny fingers patted his cheek. “Ana Daddy.”
Anton’s grin grew wide. He didn’t give a shit about the chocolate or drool because his daughter was smiling ... and she was smiling for him. “Yeah, I’m Ana’s Daddy.”
“Love Ana Daddy.”
“Daddy loves you too, baby.”
*
“Should be an early spring this year,” Anton noted, giving the outside his attention from the view the window offered.
“Wet like always.”
“And cold.”
“Summer is still too hot.”
“All we ever do is complain about the fucking weather,” Anton said, laughing.
“Ana doesn’t. Spring means training, Summer and Fall means competition. It’s only Winter she gets bored in.”
“That she does,” Anton agreed.
*
Ana sobbed, her face a mess from snot and tears. Anton picked her up, placed her on the kitchen counter, and wiped away the mess with a paper towel.
“What happened?” he asked.
His four-year-old daughter wailed harder.
“Vine, what in the fuck is wrong with my child?” Anton demanded.
“Oh, stop it. She wanted them done, Anton. I told her they would hurt.”
Hurt?
Someone was going to die.
“Ana ... dushka, tell Papa why you’re crying so I can beat the living—”
“You’ll only be beating on her, then,” Viviana interrupted, smirking.
Anton glowered at his wife. He would never lay his hands on his children and even joking about it was unacceptable to him. “Vine.”
“Seriously, she’ll get over it. Show her a mirror or something.”
“What does a mirror have to do with any of this?”
Anton turned back to Ana, gathering her messy curls in his hands so he could get them out of her face. Something sparkly caught his eye, and his heart stopped right along with his lungs. Two tiny diamonds rested in both of his daughter’s earlobes. The skin was red around the new jewelry, and no doubt, probably hurt like a motherfucker.
“Viviana!”
“She wanted it!”
“And I said no!” Anton shouted back. “She’s too little.”
“Too late,” his wife retorted hotly. “Go on, take them out, Anton. That’ll hurt worse than getting them done, for Christ’s sake.”
“I asked you not to do this, Vine.”
“She wanted them.”
“She’s four!”
“And a half, Anton. She knows how to ask for things she wants.”
God, he was so damned angry at his wife he didn’t even want to look at her.
Anton spun back to his daughter, ghosting the pads of his thumbs around the diamonds.
“I know it hurts, dushka,” Anton muttered, his fury growing.
“I didn’t know they stabbed you,” Ana wailed. “And my ears are hot and sore.”
Anton growled in the back of his throat. “Of course you didn’t know. You’re a kid. How are you supposed to know how you get a piercing done?”
“Climb off that high horse, Anton,” Viviana warned.
Ana sniffled. “You don’t like them, Daddy?”
Anton choked on air, trying to come up with something appropriate to say. It wasn’t that he didn’t like them. The small diamonds were cute and once they healed properly, maybe he wouldn’t be so damned pissed about it.
“I like them, Ana,” Anton insisted.
“But you’re angry. They must not be very pretty.”
Anton forced his daughter to look at him. “They are perfect—beautiful.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, because you’re wearing them, baby girl.”
Ana smiled, her tears finally stopping. “It did hurt a lot.”
Anton scowled over at his wife. Somebody was going to die.
Viviana made the motion of closing a zipper across her lips. “Mum’s the word, Anton. I’m not telling you who did the piercings just so you can kill them.”
Goddamn it.
*
“Heard you went house shopping in Jersey last week,” Anton said, turning back to his companion.
“I did.”
“And?”
“I think I’m going to build, actually. Nothing really fits.”
Anton chuckled. “Nothing fits her, you mean.”
“Basically.”
“That better not be a complaint.”
“It isn’t.”
*
“Mr. Avdonin, let me explain this to you again—”
“Oh, I fucking got it the first time, lady,” Anton snapped back.
“Language like that will get you nowhere, sir.”
“Really? Because it’s gotten me a lot higher than you. Listen, I pay fifteen thousand a year for my daughter to attend this school and sit in your classrooms. I control my child, so now you need to make sure the rest of the parents control their little brats. If someone is bullying Ana, and she starts striking back, that’s your problem.”
“Actually, it isn’t. It’s yours.”
“No, sweetheart, it’s yours. Trust me when I say the problem isn’t mine. It’s like this, my daughter knows what acceptable conduct is. Hitting isn’t one of them. Weak people hit. Strong people use their words to beat someone into submission. If you spent five minutes looking past the father my daughter has to see who she really is, you’d know she doesn’t need to use her fists for a damn thing. If she does, there’s a good reason.”