Chapter 6 #2
“We’re fine!” I answered her before I glared at him.
“Please watch your language around Sebastian.” I bent down to release him from the stroller.
He eagerly went into my arms before turning curiously toward his father.
Unlike the first time when he clung to Dora, this time he was more interested.
Not that he’d suddenly become this fearless boy.
He’d be an explorer one day and just become clingy the next.
But today, I was glad he was the former.
Even with the uncertainty between us, I wanted Kolya to experience what it meant to have half his DNA owned by Sebastian.
“Hey, buddy,” Kolya whispered and tentatively held out his arms. Sebastian made some bababa sounds before he tilted his body forward and fell into his father’s arms.
Tightness clenched my chest as I watched Kolya’s face transform.
A smile kicked up both corners of his mouth. No sign of mockery anywhere. His face losing all its sharp edges as I witnessed a hardened man fall in love with his son.
Sebastian kicked his feet, enjoying how he was being held up higher, and giggled.
I didn’t know why, but tears stung my eyes and the pressure in my chest intensified with what was relief and happiness.
I thought I would feel fear, but my heart really wanted Kolya to accept his son not as a future bratva soldier, but the way a normal father would be proud to hold his son.
I never had that, and before my tears became a reason for something else, I pushed that thought away.
Kolya chuckled. “I’m counting four teeth.”
“The two lower ones are out. The top ones are peeking.”
He lowered Sebastian into the crook of his left arm, while he pushed the stroller with his right hand toward the play area.
Marena was sitting on the couch in the corner, typing on her phone.
Sebastian had already forgotten his father and struggled forward, reaching for the items on the play table.
“You can lower him.” The area was padded and enclosed. Kolya lowered our son, and Sebby immediately went on all fours and crawled toward the play table, where he pulled himself up to standing.
“Has he tried to walk?” Kolya asked.
“Several times, but he’s not that confident yet.”
“He’s grown since I last saw him,” he mused, a tinge of regret in his voice. Then he cleared his throat.
“He has. Even I notice it, and I see him every day. He seems to do it overnight.” I laughed lightly.
Silence. I had many questions, and I was sure he had too.
“Did you…”
“Why did you…?”
We spoke at the same time and paused at the same time. Stared at each other, and then Kolya said, “You first.”
“Why did you retract your claim as the biological father?”
Something flickered in his eyes. “It’s complicated, and unless you formally join the bratva, I can’t tell you.”
He gave a slight nod toward where Marena was sitting, and either it meant he was uncomfortable explaining it to me in front of the family liaison or he couldn’t tell me at all.
“You know Theo would never allow that.”
Kolya huffed derisively. “Why? Are you tied to him because of money? I thought you never wanted to become a King.”
“He gives me more freedom to do what I want.”
“Like the condition to marry you off to someone else?”
Sebastian’s burst of laughter interrupted our exchange. I hoisted him into a chair in front of the activity table and dropped cross-legged beside him.
“That was my idea,” I answered him.
Kolya sat cross-legged in front of me. Sebastian was between us. “You’re willing to tie yourself to someone else in exchange for what, exactly?”
“Protection for me and Sebastian.”
“I can give you that.”
But what if we need protection from you and everything you represented? I thought but didn’t say.
“I have it through Theo, and he would have given it to me even if I wasn’t willing to assume the King name.”
Kolya emitted another mocking sound that irritated the hell out of me.
“I’m trying to do what’s best for Sebastian without signing my life away to the goddamn bratva because, admit it, once you’re in, there’s no getting out.”
Kolya tsked at me softly. “I thought we’re watching our language around Sebastian.
” He held a stuffed octopus toward our baby.
I watched them interact for a while. Father and son.
A requirement for the arranged marriage was that my husband had no say in the raising of my son. The marriage would be in name only.
Margo mentioned she had several candidates lined up:
The workaholic who had no time to be a husband and father, but would need a wife for social events and the appearance of stability.
The CEO with an alternative lifestyle that, if known, would ruin the reputation of his company.
I thought about Bruce Davenport and Anya’s marriage.
Bruce was bisexual, and when he couldn’t gain an heir through Anya, he started using male escorts again and fell in love with one.
That was his downfall. So I guess for me that was an option.
No expectation of heirs, though, but that can be negotiated.
Interestingly enough, Margo didn’t have any candidates who were only after a strong infusion of cash. She said one rule of Marriage Ink was not to dilute the client pool with losers whose only claim was generational wealth left by their parents.
There would be stringent prenups on both sides.
“I’m not about to let another man raise my son,” Kolya said.
“Then give me an alternative that doesn’t include marriage and joining the bratva...”
Kolya’s eyes flitted briefly to me, then back to Sebastian. “I’m working on it.”
Okay. That was fair. After all, I just sprung this son thing on a confirmed bachelor who probably avoided these kinds of entanglements because of the world he lived in. I’d read up a bit on this. The leaders of the bratva clearly wanted to secure the next generation and have heirs.
Enforcers. They would go to whatever ends necessary to protect the bratva. These types of soldiers rarely had families. They would even voluntarily have a vasectomy.
Sebastian emitted distressed sounds and was staring at the baby bag. Kolya looked at me questioningly.
“He’s slept and eaten, and pooped.” I pushed up and sniffed his butt. “He’s okay. Do you want to feed him? He threw away most of his food earlier, so he might be hungry.”
“He’s feeding himself?”
“Yep, I’m trying to help him eat more solids, but his pediatrician told me not to worry too much about that until he turns one.”
I dug into my bag and brought out the banana blueberry pudding I’d softened up with milk. It was room temperature, which Sebastian seemed to like. I handed the plastic cup and spoon to Kolya.
“I have an idea,” he said.
I was amazed at how easy it was for him to rise from a crouch, lifting Sebastian in one arm while still holding the feeding container in the other hand. I’d probably lose balance and tip over. He walked over to a miniature couch like the ones you saw in an eight-year-old’s room.
“Sit, and I’ll hand him to you while I feed him.”
My eyes met Marena’s across the room. She continued taking notes, but she was smiling approvingly. Meanwhile, my heart pounded with exhilaration while my stomach rioted with butterfly wings. I sat and swallowed hard as Kolya handed Sebastian to me.
Then he went down on a knee and fed our son.
It took all my willpower to stop the tears from falling. This yearning. Was this what Mom felt when Ivan took over being surrogate dad? But Ivan wasn’t my father the way Kolya was Sebastian’s dad.
Fate must be laughing at me when my life was veering close to the same path my mother took.
Funny thing was, I barely remembered Ivan visually, but he left a void where he was supposed to be.
He left when I was four. I couldn’t see his face in my memories, but I remembered his features from photographs that were no longer in my possession.
Mom burned them. Sometimes I questioned if that child waiting behind the door, waiting for Ivan to come home, was an actual memory or manufactured by my subconscious as a way to cope.
That once upon a time, I had a father figure who cared.
But one thing was for certain, I would never let my son feel disposable.