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)
“Is he going to come—”
“Probably not,” Viviana interjected softly, keeping her gaze on Vera. “You know how he is.”
Anton frowned, hiding his face with a throw pillow so he could muffle his frustration with the fabric and not allow Vera to see. The last thing he would ever do is call his granddaughter a burden, or even a disruption, but Demyan’s propensity to drop his daughter off with his mother for days at a time while he did whatever the hell he—
Anton stopped that thought. He knew what his son was doing. Working his ass off, constantly. Making a name for himself—one that was already beginning to overtake his father’s. Anton didn’t run his streets anymore. Demyan did. Sure, Anton controlled his Bratva, but Demyan was the gun ready to blow and everyone around them knew it.
They were terrified of it.
Unfortunately, Anton wasn’t sure where that left little Vera.
Anton tossed the pillow back to the other end of the couch.
“He’s a good father,” Viviana said, glancing over Vera’s dark curls.
“She barely talks about him. He’s too distant.”
“Only when others are around,” his wife argued. “When they’re alone, it’s different.”
“Well, I don’t get to see that, do I?”
“I’m sorry, Anton.”
“Don’t be, baby. It’s ... I made my bed.”
But he desperately wished the little boy who grew up literally under his father’s feet nonstop would come back, even for a short while.
“Koldan stopped by the club today for my blessing, you know.”
Viviana met his gaze. “Oh?”
“Don’t act so innocent. You knew this shit was coming.”
“Of course, I knew. Look at them.”
“I do. Often. And it makes me sick.”
“You really need to get a handle on that jealously.”
“I’m not jealous,” Anton growled. “I’m ...”
“Jealous you aren’t her only one anymore. Jealous she goes to him first. Jealous she loves another man, differently from how she loves you, sure, but loves him all the same. You are jealous. You have always been this way with Ana when boys come into the picture.”
“There haven’t been very many boys for her, Vine.”
“I wonder why,” Viviana murmured.
“Oh, shut up.”
His wife laughed softly. “He’s a good man.”
“I still hate him.”
“Well, hate him quietly, Anton. Ana would be so hurt if she thought you didn’t approve even after all this time.”
Yeah, he knew.
“I asked him to wait at least two years for a wedding.”
“Jesus, that’s a long time.”
“He agreed.”
“Because he probably thought if he didn’t, you’d refuse your blessing.”
Anton pushed up from the couch and shrugged. “Gives her time to finish school so she doesn’t have to make a move switching colleges and starting a life.”
“I never knew you to be a liar,” his wife said, cocking her eyebrow high.
“I’m not lying.”
“You are. Ana’s grades are perfect. A transfer would be nothing. Tell me why you really asked for a two-year hold on a wedding, Anton.”
“Because,” he said, refusing to meet his wife’s curious stare.
“Because why?”
“Because I’m not ready yet. I don’t care if she is. I’m not.”
“Yeah,” Viviana whispered, still bouncing Vera. “That’s what I figured.”
It wasn’t fair. Fathers had daughters just to give them away. Anton didn’t want to give Ana away.
The sound of the front door unlocking and opening had Anton giving his wife an inquisitive look. They weren’t expecting guests, but maybe Demyan had come back for Vera. Only two people had keys to their house after all.
It wasn’t Demyan.
Ana strolled into the living room a minute later, tossing her bag to the floor. She didn’t go to her mother first, or even her niece. No, she went to her father.
A kiss pressed to his cheek, making Anton smile.
“Hey, Daddy.”
Anton squeezed Ana’s hand, forcing himself not to pull her into his embrace. Two more years. “Hey.”
An Apology
Demyan
“Oh, grab me those chips, please?”
Demyan grinned as he leaned across the counter to snag his wife’s favorite bag of baked chips. His mother didn’t even like them. Neither did his father. And yet, they kept a bag in the house, always fresh, too, just for Claire to have when they were over.
“Here, babe.”
“Thanks.”
The crinkle of the bag echoed as their family continued to mill between the kitchen and dining room, readying for dinner. It was rare that they all got together at the same time to do this now. What with Ana and her kids living in Jersey, sometimes travel came down to just when someone had the fucking time.
And God knew they didn’t get enough of it.
Unfortunately.
That was the life, though. This life they had all chosen in one way or another—be it like Demyan or Koldan, who decided to follow in their fathers’ footsteps and join the Bratva. Or in the cases of their wives, with children to raise, careers to chase, and husbands to keep in line. And yes, Claire most certainly kept Demyan in line.
She reminded him of good things.
Of the good life.
Even when he had those dark days.