Chapter 15
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
VIKTOR
We make our way across the courtyard where we ate dinner that first night. Sofia walks beside Avelina, her gaze astute and searching. But the garden is still a little way off—because I’ve made sure it’s away from all the noise that comes from when the men are in the courtyard.
“This is a beautiful place,” Avelina says as I push Leon in the stroller. There’s no way his little hands can reach me when he’s strapped in, thank goodness.
I watch her carefully. It’s not a long walk to the garden, but she’s still recovering. “You sure you don’t need to rest?”
She spears me with her attempt at a fierce glare, and it has me raising my hands in surrender with a slight twitch of my lips. The doctor said rest, but she’s dead set on doing this with us. Not that I quite mind.
“What kind of vegetables do you grow?” Avelina asks me, filling the silence.
For once, I don’t think that I mind that this walk won’t be a quiet one. “A lot of things actually. We, uh, use them for meals and stuff.”
There’s that smile again from her, radiant and beautiful, and the air freezes in my lungs.
“That’s amazing. Really.”
I nod, clearing my throat a little as I look away. The praise makes me feel…weird. Not uncomfortable. But something else I don’t really understand. And I think maybe it’s a feeling that I wouldn’t mind feeling again.
As Avelina walks, the auburn hair in her ponytail swishes from side to side. We round a turn, and it’s very quiet now that we’re further from the main house. Avelina’s head swivels around as she takes in the place, conversation fading into a companionable silence.
Once we finally make it to the edge of the vegetable garden, I hear the soft intake of air from both Sofia and Avelina.
It’s modest for the most part. Nestled a little beyond a canopy of trees, the garden is blocked off with a wooden trellis fence.
String lights are strung from beams that dot the area.
Gravel pathways cross the generous plot while neatly arranged raised wooden beds brim with lush greenery—leafy lettuces, ripening tomatoes, vibrant peppers, and flowering herbs.
At the back corner, a large greenhouse stretches the length of the garden for the more delicate plants.
Sofia’s eyes are wide, taking in every detail.
“Viktor, this is…wow,” Avelina says, her head turning this way and that.
My eyes take in the organized planter boxes. “I started it when we first moved here. Some stuff is still growing in.”
She settles on one of the stone benches between the planter boxes, Leon having dozed off in his stroller, while Sofia explores the area with an inquisitive expression. “You did this all yourself?” Avelina asks.
“Yeah.”
“It’s really lovely,” she murmurs, still taking it all in as she sits in the sunshine.
“Thanks.”
Avelina spares me another one of those smiles, this one softer around the edges, and I think this might be my favorite smile of hers. It’s like it’s reserved just for me. Special.
But that’s not what it is—and I know it. I shake my head, dismissing the thought.
“Are the lights solar?” Sofia asks. “If not, how does it work without being dangerous to the plants?” Her words come out fast before I even have a chance to answer the first question.
She zips toward a planter box, eyeing it.
“Why rectangles? Why not circles?” I open my mouth to answer, but she cuts me off.
“Can I touch these fuzzy leaves? Or does touching them hurt the plant?”
Avelina’s soft giggle floats through the air. “Sofia, honey, just breathe.”
Sofia does just that, a deep inhale.
And I do the same before answering. “You can touch the leaves. It won’t hurt it.”
She does just that, her fingers gently roaming over the plant.
I move closer to the box she’s stopped at.
There’s still about three feet of space between us before I kneel down.
“The lights are solar-powered. We get enough sunshine that they last for hours during the evening. I chose rectangles because it’s more efficient, meaning I could fit more in the space. ”
She looks at me and nods. “Can I help water them? Or pull the weeds? Do you weed them a lot? I like doing that with the window boxes at home. It’s like a puzzle but smells better.”
“There’s not a lot of weeds right now, but we can water them. If it’s okay with your mom.” I look over to Avelina who’s watching us intently. Sofia also looks to her mom who nods.
I grab a watering can from the hook where it hangs next to a slew of gardening tools and gloves.
A minute later, Sofia is carefully pouring the water at the roots of the plants while I watch, arms crossed. She’s a natural, just like I thought she’d be.
My eyes flicker to Avelina who’s giving Sofia an encouraging thumbs up.
The afternoon sun catches the auburn highlights in her hair, and I find myself cataloging details I’ve no business noticing.
The way she unconsciously bites her lower lip when she’s concentrating on the kids and the soft curve of her neck where her ponytail has shifted to one side.
I drag my eyes away, but my gaze keeps drifting back like some magnetic field is enticing it.
But it’s Avelina’s smile that makes me stagger a little off-kilter.
It’s a smile that lights up her green eyes in a way that makes them sparkle and crinkle at the corners.
Sunshine. That’s what it’s like. Sunshine against your face after a cold storm.
The kind of sunshine I savored in Russia once the winter snow broke and spring teased us with its presence.
I swallow thickly. Because that smile does something to me.
It lights up the world around me and makes my chest feel tight.
And I want to see it more.
I need to see it more.
Whatever it takes.
It’s late afternoon, and I insist Avelina takes a nap upstairs while we keep an eye on the children downstairs.
The men’s boisterous shouts and bellowing laughs boom through the rec room. One man shoves his chair from the table, making the back of the chair slam into the wall. I hate noise like this. But even worse, I notice that Sofia is really struggling with it too.
Her fingers curl tightly around her stuffed bunny—and I see her flinch every time someone shouts.
Her little shoulders hunch higher with each burst of noise, until she’s practically trying to disappear.
Her tiny fingers tremble, and I feel a rage unfurl within me.
My jaw locks. No kid should look that scared in my house—ever.
I crouch beside her, lowering my voice, so it’s just for her. “Hey, little bird,” I murmur in a soft tone. “I’ll fix it.”
She blinks up at me, solemn and silent, then nods once. Brave little thing.
I stand and stride toward the men, jerking my head toward the hallway. They follow me slowly, whining that I’m disturbing their downtime. When we’re far enough away that Sofia can’t hear, I turn on them. “New rules,” I grit out. “Listen carefully, because I’m only saying this fucking once.”
The men exchange looks.
“No more slamming chairs like you’re in some kind of goddamn WWE match,” I growl.
“Aw, Viktor…”
“No yelling loud enough to make the neighbors think we’re murdering someone,” I snap.
The men shift as they start to look nervous.
“And this is the most important rule—no sneaking up on the kid like you’re auditioning for a fucking horror movie. You scare her again, you’ll be the ones fucking screaming.”
A few of them actually wince.
I let the threat hang there for a beat before I lean in. “She’s six. She’s got more guts than half of you clowns. Don’t make her regret being here.”
They all nod furiously, mumbling promises and apologies.
When I return to the room, Sofia is still clutching her bunny, but now her eyes are on me. A little less fear, a little more trust. It’s a start.
I meet with our doctor that evening. “What did you find?” I grit out without greeting. “Is she okay?”
“She’s fine right now. But…” He sighs. “The scan showed she suffered multiple fractures in the past.”
I let that information filter through my brain. “Was she in an accident?”
He shakes his head. “They look to have healed at different times.”
“So, what are you saying?” I demand.
His face is grim. “She suffered multiple fractures over an extended period of time.”
And then it hits me.
He’s telling me someone beat her.
Oh dear God.
Not much sickens me, but this knowledge makes bile rush up the back of my throat.
Was Geliy responsible? I’m not sure—because she was strong enough to leave him when she realized that she was in danger around him.
So, who then?
I won’t press her for an answer. She’ll tell me when she’s ready.
But when she does, I’m gonna make sure I break every single bone of the fucker who dared lay a finger on her.