Chapter 37 Mikhail
MIKHAIL
The search for Jack Harroun continued.
All the dead ends that popped up pissed me off, and I didn’t take any men off the hunt.
It wasn’t as though I had to split my interests, though.
Niko Popov seemed to be careful and watching me, waiting to make a move of sabotaging my businesses like usual.
Roberto Giovanni was no doubt cleaning up the mess and picking up the pieces of destruction after I’d hit back and killed his men last week.
On the home front, I was still pacing myself and holding back from fully focusing on Claire.
I was reluctant to put all my energy and concentration into proposing and marrying her.
A honeymoon phase would be the highest reward of the year, but I wanted to do that when I didn’t have anyone connected to her still lurking at large as a threat.
Getting to know Claire felt like a dream. Sleeping with her and learning her quirks pleased me. Her submission hadn’t waned, and we were exploring all the different styles of making love that she was ready to try with me.
With the exception of Jack at large, life was almost perfect.
Almost.
Because I still needed to be considerate of bridging myself to Anya.
Claire encouraged me to approach her, to talk to her, but I was hesitant. I didn’t want to repeat the mistake of begging her to spend time with me. I wasn’t in a rush to put myself out there for her to be sullen and dismiss me again.
Because she was a representative of Olga, of the woman who’d run from me because I was an unlovable and unwanted monster, it was harder to make that first move. I couldn’t summon the courage to take the initiative where she was concerned.
After witnessing how well Claire and Anya got along, though, I was inspired to really devote some attention to my daughter. Overhearing them talking about parents was informative for me. When Anya asked Claire if her father would’ve approved of me, I was honestly moved with how honest Claire was.
She had come from a different world and we shouldn’t have ever hit it off as well as we had, but here we were, fighting for love to last.
I could fight with or for Anya, too. Recalling how risky yet freeing it was to offer Claire the chance to leave me, I wondered if I could give my daughter the same respect.
Instead of insisting that Anya come to dinner, I “used” Andre. He didn’t question why I needed him to ask Anya to join him for the family meal. I never had to go out of my way to spell anything out for him.
But when Anya arrived, she glanced at Claire and sat near her.
We ate and talked—like usual. As the meal wound down, though, I cleared my throat and looked at her.
“Anya, I’d like to offer you something I should’ve considered since the moment you moved here.”
She furrowed her brow, not replying. She got that trait from me, just like Andre did. Somehow, like us, she knew that if someone wanted her to know something, she only had to wait them out.
“I’ve been focusing on giving you a safe choice to live freely.”
She raised her brows. “Freely?”
“She’s not a prisoner,” Claire chided.
“No. But when she arrived, that was her interpretation of living here.” When Claire opened her mouth to speak again, I held my hand up to cut her off.
“I don’t blame you for having that view,” I told my daughter.
“I was well aware of how prejudiced your relatives were. They hated me ever since my father had the audacity to die and mandate on his deathbed that I honor an old marriage arrangement. I expected all of that.”
“Interpretations can change,” she said, looking at Claire briefly.
“They can. But I realize how futile it is to compete with your lifetime of judgment against me. It’s not fair to either of us if you are truly miserable here.” I cleared my throat. “I won’t force you to act like a loving daughter. I won’t coerce you into doing anything you don’t want.”
“What are you getting at, Father?” Andre asked.
“Anya,” I told her, “you can leave this building and this life. You can shed the title of being my daughter and forfeit this antagonism that had been bred in your mind for years. If you want, I will arrange for a guardian I can trust. Not someone from your mother’s family, if any of them are still around.
I can locate a suitable guardian not affiliated with any Mafia family.
You can strike out and start your new life without the stain of having me as your father. ”
She stared at me, speechless. Claire took my hand and held it.
“I will provide every financial and material resource you could ever need,” I added.
“What’s the other option?” Andre asked, invested in his sister’s life.
“Or you can stay and understand that I can be patient and give you as much space and room as you need.”
Laying out these options felt eerily similar to how I’d given Claire her ultimatum. To either go and never look back or to stay and figure out this thing called life with me.
It was a risk. It was a gamble, but it was one I knew I had to take a chance on.
I had convinced myself that giving Claire the permission to leave was a sign of love. That I loved her enough to want her to be happy, in whatever format that would come.
Now, I was applying the same selflessness to my daughter. I wanted her happy, and it was so obvious she wasn’t happy here.
All this time I’d been thinking about starting a family with Claire, excited to marry her and claim her as mine, I realized how half-assed I had been acting about my current family, my current child. Andre wasn’t a concern, but I had to understand how to move forward with my daughter.
Sitting there quietly, she zoned out and stared at her plate.
Claire winced a little, squeezing my hand, turning to cringe at me. I squeezed her fingers back.
I had to have faith that this was the right step to make. Giving Anya the power to decide something like this was a big challenge I had to accept.
“You’re asking me if I want to stay or go?” Anya asked several long, tense moments later.
I nodded, certain this was the day she’d been waiting for. The day she’d get my permission to go, finally.
“You mean that?” she asked incredulously.
I nodded again. I couldn’t blame her for being skeptical.
“No!” She furrowed her brow, making a small V above her nose. “No, I don’t want to leave.”
Blinking quickly, I tried to get over the shock. “You don’t?”
“No. I don’t want to leave. I want to be part of a family.”
Andre huffed. “You are.”
She whipped her head around to face him. “Then I should stay, right?”
“You should do whatever makes you happy,” he suggested.
Bingo. That was precisely what I was realizing.
“Then I want to stay,” she said, smiling lopsidedly at Claire, as if she couldn’t believe this was being offered.
“You do?” I had to ask. Because of how strongly she’d protested being here, I had to check.
The last thing I wanted to do was focus on starting a family with Claire but be held back by trying to form a relationship with Anya.
One that didn’t include her hating my guts and never wanting to speak to me.
“Yes. I want to stay and belong and…” She frowned, as if she were disappointed in herself. “I want the chance to be open-minded and change my interpretation of who you are.”
Claire beamed, squeezing my hand. “Good,” she said, as if that settled it.
This was good, but wholly unexpected.
As we resumed wrapping up dinner, I couldn’t help but feel like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders. Anya wanted to give me an opportunity to be her father. And it was all thanks to this woman. My sweet doctor.
Because of her, because of her patience and the generosity of her big heart, Anya wasn’t dead-set against living with me.
Pulling Claire close until I could kiss her cheek, I dared to wonder if everything could be falling into place at last.
My son and daughter with me.
My future fiancée being the glue I hadn’t realized we’d needed.
And this warmth of love swelling in my heart, finally convincing me that I had been wrong all this time in thinking I’d never be wanted and redeemed.