27. The Lion and the Shark
Chapter twenty-seven
The Lion and the Shark
Emily
I prepared for our day out in New Orleans, standing before the mirror in our hotel suite and couldn’t help but smile at the reflection staring back at me. I wore designer high-waisted jeans with a tucked-in top, offering a flattering silhouette and nice cleavage. On my feet, I opted for a pair of comfortable, flat leather sandals.
New Orleans demanded exploration on foot, and I was prepared.
Now back to the kids. Will we ever get out of this hotel suite?
Getting the kids ready for our outing in New Orleans was an adventure I may look back on with a fond, warm smile. However, currently, I felt overwhelmed and bordering on hysteria as I frantically searched through suitcases and bags, worried that I didn’t have all the necessary items packed.
This is insane. How do other women handle this without any help?
My mind was already formulating plans to create a large foundation to support single mothers around the world.
But for now, I needed to focus on getting ready for our day out in the bustling streets of New Orleans’s French Quarter.
Did people even take kids there? Fuck it. This was my bright idea so we will find something family friendly to do.
I returned my focus to the cutest little kid ever.
Paolo.
After leaving Italy, he had been growing into a happy, energetic kid. I think the time in Moscow had truly helped. He smiled and giggled all the time. If we weren’t painting together, then we raced around in the garden, or swam in the pool.
I checked my watch. “Damn. Another hour already passed?”
Who knew that a little kid could keep me busy just with putting on his clothes?
Of course, it had been my bright idea to tell Baba and the nannies to take a break. Currently, they relaxed in a spa that I had booked for them. They would be receiving the works—facials, hot stone massages, herbal body wraps, aromatherapy, laser treatments for unwanted hair removal, along with manis, and pedis.
I looked Paolo over. “Are you ready, buddy?”
He bobbed his head.
Since Paolo was obsessed with the color green, it shifted to a love for snakes—cobras to be precise. Kaz even wanted to give Paolo a snake as a pet.
All I need are lions and cobras all over the property, scaring the shit out of me.
Regardless, Paolo was absolutely thrilled when I showed him the outfit I picked for him—a bright green shirt adorned with a chuckling cobra, paired with khaki shorts, and topped with a matching green hat.
Kneeling down, I finished adjusting Paolo’s hat. His eyes sparkled with an excitement that lit up the entire room.
“You’re looking good, buddy.”
He bounced on the balls of his feet, hissed like a snake, and clutched at the hem of his cobra shirt, his small fingers tracing the outline of the fierce snake on the front. “Look. Look.”
“I see.”
“Cobra.”
I made a serious face. “Deadly, swift, and silent.”
He widened his eyes.
“And don’t forget, they strike like this.” Fast, I lunged forward, mimicking a snake’s strike with my hand.
Paolo jumped back with a dramatic gasp before he crumbled into a fit of giggles.
And I couldn’t help but laugh too, since his joy was infectious.
In the midst of our laughter, Harlem trotted over with that glossy coat and big, soulful eyes.
I studied him.
When did you start getting bigger?
Harlem, our chocolate cocker spaniel, had grown noticeably since Kaz had first given him to me.
Yet, Harlem seemed blissfully unaware of his increasing size and strength, still considering himself the small puppy that could easily nip at Paolo’s fingers without consequence.
Harlem attempted to nip at Paolo’s chin, and the suddenness of it caught Paolo off guard.
I stared at my fur baby. “Harlem, no.”
The puppy looked up at me with those large eyes, a soft whine escaping him as if he were apologizing for his forgotten manners. Instead of nipping Paolo again, he gently licked my hand and wagged his tail.
“You’re not a tiny pup anymore, Harlem. You’re a big, protective brother now.” I scratched behind his ear. “Let’s keep those teeth to yourself.”
Paolo tapped my leg. “Haalem come?”
Turning towards the other room where Kaz was dressing Emilio, I raised my voice slightly. “Baby, are we bringing Harlem too?”
The sound of Kazimir’s laughter echoed back, before he yelled, “Who else would truly protect us?”
“Good point.” I looked down at Paolo, who was still fascinated with his cobra shirt. “Alright, baby. Go get Harlem’s leash.”
Paolo’s eyes lit up with a new mission. He tapped the cobra on his shirt as if consulting with it first, then looked up at me with determination. “I walk Haalam, mysh .”
“Can you say please?”
“Peez.”
“Sure. You can walk him when we’re outside.”
I shouldn’t have allowed it, but that was my baby. Already, I pictured Harlem getting out of Paolo’s control and us chasing after Paolo as he raced for the dog.
This is going to be a shit show.
Paolo scampered off with a sense of purpose only a child could muster.
Harlem, probably guessing the upcoming adventure, sprinted closely behind Paolo, his tail wagging vigorously.
Alright. Let me check on the Lion and his cub.
Shaking my head, I went off to Emilio’s room. “Have you finally picked something?”
“I did, but I am not happy, mysh .”
Entering Emilio’s room, I found Kazimir in the midst of a mild tirade, his frustration amusingly directed at our wardrobe choices for the day.
Is he still mad about the baby’s clothes?
I sighed.
At least Kaz is dressed.
He wore a tailored, light linen shirt. The crisp white fabric accentuated the breadth of his bulky shoulders and the sculpted form of his torso. The shirt was left casually unbuttoned at the top, allowing a hint of his chest to show.
He’d paired the shirt with perfectly-tailored chinos in a soft khaki color. The fabric was light enough to keep him cool under the sun, yet sharp enough to uphold his polished image.
Now we have the last person to get dressed.
I gazed down at Emilio.
He was a beautiful blend of his father’s Russian heritage and my own African-American roots. His hair—a soft halo of tight curls—was beginning to transform into a blossoming afro. Each curl danced with a life of its own.
In fact, it was a wild, adorable mess.
I often found myself marveling at his hair, unsure of exactly how to tame it, yet reluctant to dim its natural beauty.
You’re getting cornrows as soon as you can walk.
Emilio’s eyes were large and expressive, mirroring my deep brown, yet there was something unmistakably Kazimir in their shape and the way they lit up with mischief and curiosity.
Even as a baby, Emilio had begun to display a blend of Kaz’s masculine features and my softer ones. His jawline, though still baby-soft, hinted at the strong lines it would grow into, reminiscent of his father. Yet, his cheeks, full and pinchable, were all softness and warmth, inviting kisses and caresses. His lips curved into smiles that could brighten the darkest rooms, a gentle feature that Kaz swore he got from me.
Plus, Emilio’s skin was a creamy golden hue that glowed from within, especially when he giggled. And those giggles were frequent, thanks to his easy happiness and fascination with the world around him.
The Lion grumbled, “This is unacceptable.”
“The shirt is fine, Kaz.”
Emilio, blissfully unaware of his father’s discontent, lay on the changing table, kicking his legs in the air and gurgling with a joy that only an infant could embody. A soft blue shirt with a cartoon shark was already on him.
Kaz growled. “Someone needs to die.”
“He looks awesome.”
Kaz sneered. “A shark?”
“You picked it—”
“Because the other shirts were rabbits, turtles, and fucking giraffes.”
“Stop cursing, Kaz, and the animal doesn’t matter—”
“Where are the lions?”
“Perhaps, the nanny forgot.”
Kaz gazed at one of Emilio’s guards. “Get the nanny. Now. Bring her to me.”
“Absolutely not.” I waved my hand at the guard. “Leave her alone. I gave her a spa day—”
“Good. Which spa? I will drown her in the—”
“Can you relax? And if you touch the nanny, then I’m going to touch you—”
“I would like that—”
“Trust me, you wouldn’t.”
“Not one lion was in Emilio’s luggage—”
“Enough about the lions. Just please, finish dressing him.”
“How could I? The Lion and the Shark? It doesn’t make any sense.” Kaz lifted Emilio and held him up to his face. “Do you see how sad my cub is about this?”
A bubbly giggle left Emilio. My baby clearly found the tone of his father’s voice entertaining.
Kaz nodded. “He is pissed. Enraged. Ready to bomb this nursery and the rest of the world.”
Emilio began trying to eat his tiny fist. Thick droplets of saliva dripped over his closed fingers, leaving a glistening line down his little wrist.
“Yeah.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “The world better watch out.”
Kaz gazed over his shoulder and yelled at another guard. “You over there. Go to the store and get me tons of baby shirts with lions on it—”
“No.” I waved the guard away. “We don’t have time. It’s already been two hours. At this rate, we will never leave the hotel—”
“But, a shark, mysh ?”
“They’re known for their dominance in the water, and they are. . .relentless, powerful, and feared by all in their territory.”
“It is a fucking fish.”
Giggling, Emilio reached out his wet fist and landed it on Kaz’s face.
And just like that, all traces of anger disappeared from Kaz’s expression, replaced by a sense of playful amusement.
I chuckled. “See? Even Emilio thinks you should stop cursing.”
“Alright. Alright.” Kazimir surrendered. “Now that our little lion has splendidly defended his mother, I will refrain.”
“Cool.” I tapped my foot. “Now let’s put some shorts on him, before I leave all of you in here and go get drunk on Bourbon street.”
Kaz grumbled, “Sharks.”
I rolled my eyes and watched Kazimir effortlessly juggle putting a new diaper on Emilio along with shorts as our little guy kicked and twisted around sucking on his fist.
I should have headed off, but I couldn’t help but smile.
The Lion and the Shark.
A pang of something deeper fluttered in my chest.
Kaz was on Interpol’s list of dangerous people as well as the FBI’s Most Wanted. The world knew him as a treacherous, powerful man—the sort of powerful man that could still travel anywhere he desired regardless of what agencies wanted to lock him up because governments tended to leave people alone when they had the codes to Russian nukes and were more than willing to use them.
Regardless. . .now. . .here he was, the doting father with a tenderness I hadn’t imagined possible when we first met.
He gazed over his shoulder. “Why are you smiling like that, mysh ?”
“We’ve come a long way from the shadows, haven’t we?”
His gaze softened and this rare sight of vulnerability flickered through those eyes. “We have.”
“I love you.”
“I love you too.”
“We’re going to have a good day today.”
“We are, but then every moment of peace is a treasure.” He winked and returned to dressing Emilio.
Feeling happier than ever, I hurried down the hallway, got to the stroller, and rummaged through Emilio’s bag.
It appeared to be filled with essentials—bottles full of breast milk in a refrigerated bag, snacks for Paolo, a few toys, extra outfits, diapers, baby wipes, and a portable changing pad.
Harlem barked several times.
I looked up and spotted Paolo practicing a roll-flip on the couch.
“No. No.” I stuffed more diapers into Emilio’s bag. “Remember. I said no playing on the furniture.”
“ Mysh ?” Frowning, Paolo jumped off the couch. “So fun.”
“Yes. I’m sure it’s fun, but that’s not our couch.”
“No, mysh .” Paolo pointed. “ My couch.”
“Nope. That’s not your couch.”
Shock hit him. “No?”
“Nope.”
Blinking his eyes, he pointed his little finger at me. “Your couch?”
“Not mine.”
Paolo opened his mouth in horror and immediately began backing away. “ Lev .”
“Nope. It’s not the lion’s couch either—”
“It is most definitely my couch, Paolo.” Kaz came in, holding Emilio in his arms. “Where I am, it is mine.”
Paolo parted his lips.
I looked our son over. “Finally, you dressed him.”
A knock sounded.
Then, the door opened and Max burst into the living room. “The Black Mamba is here!”
I zipped up the bag. “The what?”
“The Black Mamba.” Max held out his hands. “Dangerous African snake. Their bite is called the Kiss of Death.”
Paolo grinned. “Snake!”
“Hell yes, Polo.” Max went over to him and high-fived his hand. “You’re my fellow snake man.”
I sighed. “Are we back to calling him Polo now?”
“Yeah. I’m really digging Polo for my little dude. But anyway, let’s talk about what I’m wearing.” Max started strutting back and forth like a model on a runway, turning the moment into a fashion show. “Look at your boy.”
I placed the bag under the stroller. “You look good.”
“Good? Naw, Em. I’m gorgeous.” Max spun on his heel and his light, linen blazer fluttered dramatically.
The blazer was a soft, pastel blue, which he wore over a crisp, white V-neck tee that hinted at his physique. His trousers were tailored, a light beige that complemented the blazer and allowed his brightly colored, designer loafers to steal the show.
Completing the ensemble was a straw fedora, tipped rakishly to one side, with a band that matched his loafers.
“I mean, if you’re not dressing to make the sun jealous, then should you even be outside?” Max struck a pose—one hand on his hip and the other extended out with his fingers splayed.
Paolo clapped his hands in delight.
“Do not encourage that idiot.” Kaz placed Emilio in the stroller and strapped him up.
Max continued to entertain us with his catwalk antics, slowly strutting back and forth and flapping his blazer to the side. “Why yes, Em. I’ll answer your question.”
“I didn’t ask a question.” I gestured at Paolo. “Put the leash on Harlem, baby.”
“Yay!” Paolo charged that way while the dog jumped at him.
Max glided toward me, lifted his hat, and tipped it. “50k.”
“What’s $50,000?”
“My outfit.” He touched his chin and gave me his swoony look. “Something light for the day.”
I chuckled.
“I will be downstairs.” Kaz glanced at Max and pushed Emilio toward the door. “Fucking idiot.”
I frowned. “Stop cursing, please.”
Kaz grumbled.
Emilio’s guard opened the door for him, and they headed out.
“Alright, Paolo.” I checked them and was surprised to see he had gotten the leash on Harlem in a decent amount of time. “We’re leaving.”
Paolo rose and clung tighter to the leash, and the dog wagged his tail.
I headed off.
Max got to my side, dove into his pocket, and yanked out a pile of bills. “I’m ready. Look at that.”
“What’s all that cash for?”
“Strip club!”
Paolo rushed by us with Harlem. “Strip club!”
“Don’t say that, Paolo.” I hit Max on the arm. “Do you not see the kids with us? The stroller?”
“Sure.”
“What about that says we are going to the strip club right now?”
“My nephews got to nap, and when they do. . .adult time.”
Grinning, I left the suite. “And apparently, we are all going to the strip club when that happens?”
“Hell yeah.”
I shrugged. “Fine.”
Max clapped. “My sis is back! No longer pregnant. I’m getting you wasted today.”
Oh lord.
Finally, we all got out into the hall.
The Lion and the Shark.
The Cobra and the Mouse.
The Black Mamba.
And last but not least, Harlem.