26. Arsen
26
ARSEN
As soon as Dominik opens the door, I shove my present into his arms and push into the house.
“Hey, Dom.” I scan the empty living room over his shoulder, straining to hear if there are any voices coming from upstairs. “I wanted to check in, see how the wife and kid are doing.”
He looks down at the gift with a raised brow and then turns the incredulous look on me. “Yours or mine?”
I should grab my gift and leave in return for that little crack alone, but I don’t want to give Dominik the satisfaction. Plus, no one else is going to get any use out of this personalized sterling silver baby rattle.
“Why would I come to your house to see my wife and daughter?”
“Good question,” he fires back. “It does seem weird. Then again, Laila’s been over here a lot lately. And I’ve noticed you getting restless.”
“That has nothing to do with Laila.”
“So you admit it—you’ve been restless?”
“Shut up, Dom.” I poke my head down the hall, but it’s all silent that way, too. For a house with a newborn in it, the place is almost eerily quiet.
“She’s not here.”
Blyat’.
“Who?” I feign ignorance, turning back to him. “Kira?”
Dominik sighs. “Laila. She and Nina left a little while ago. Now, are you going to see this ruse through and stay for a drink or are you finished?”
“Whiskey,” I snap, stalking into the living room. “Pobeda whiskey.”
Dominik heads over to the bar cart in the corner and pours me a glass, but he doesn’t indulge himself. Instead, he makes himself a cup of tea with a ready kettle.
“Since when do you drink tea?”
“Kira cut out caffeine while she was pregnant, and I joined her.” He raises a fist. “Solidarity, brother.”
Son of a bitch. It’s like he’s trying to show me up at every turn.
I accept my glass of whiskey and knock it back in one go. Dominik eyes me cautiously, but he doesn’t comment. He takes a dainty sip of tea, his nose wrinkling like he’s ingesting lighter fluid.
“If you don’t like it, you don’t have to drink it. You can still have the World’s Best Husband trophy.”
“You joke, but I’d totally accept that trophy. I’d put it on the mantel, right under our family picture.”
My pulse thrums as I resist the urge to stomp over to the bar and pour myself another glass. “Well, if I can’t have that trophy, at least one of us can.”
“I take it things aren’t going the way you want them to at home?”
I snap my attention to him. “Has Laila said something?”
“Not a word. It’s my job to notice things.”
I don’t actually want to hear how visibly miserable my wife is to everyone in her life, but I can’t stop myself from asking, “Like what?”
“Probably the same things you’ve noticed. She’s here a lot. She’s quieter than usual.” He shrugs. “It seems like she’s trying to avoid going home.”
If Laila isn’t here with Kira and the baby, she’s at the academy working on her yoga certification. If she isn’t there, she’s holed up in her room with Nina.
Regardless of where she is, the message is clear: I’m not welcome.
I was prepared to take a big, humbling step backward and start talking to her through the closed door again, but every time I’ve stopped by her room, the sliver I can see under the crack in her door has been dark.
“This is all your fault,” I say.
“Me? What did I do?”
“Mr. Fucking Dad of the Year over here,” I accuse bitterly. “She’s coming over here and comparing me to you.”
Dominik snorts. “I got news for you, friend: The two of you weren’t doing so well even before she had another dad to compare you to.”
He’s right, but again, I won’t give him the satisfaction. “How is it going, anyway?”
“I had no idea it was possible to function on two hours of broken sleep every night. But somehow, you get through it.”
“I wouldn’t know. I wasn’t there for most of it,” I admit. When I say it out loud, I can’t blame Laila for not wanting anything to do with my sorry ass. “You put me to shame, Dom. But I’m proud of you.”
Dominik’s eyes go wide. “Wow… I, uh… Thanks.”
“I’m trying to be more open.” It’s my turn to wrinkle my nose. “Not that it’s doing much good.”
“I’m sure it’ll pay off in the end.”
I huff out a bitter laugh. “Or I’ll spill out my sad, twisted guts, and Laila will still decide she’s better off without me.”
Silence languishes for a few moments before Dominik clears his throat. “Let me pour you another drink. You sound like you need it.”
He takes my empty glass and returns with a heavy pour of whiskey. This time, I savor the deep, rich flavor I spent so long honing.
I spent countless hours in tastings and meetings, perfecting every inch of Adamov Liquor, from the product to the branding to the presentation. I had complete and total control of every element, which is exactly how I like it.
But when it comes to Laila, nothing is up to me. I feel out of my depths.
“I’ve never seen it done before.” I run a hand over my stubbled chin. “A successful relationship and a successful Bratva.”
Dominik shrugs. “I do it.”
“You’re not the pakhan . You’re not the one in charge.”
“No,” he agrees, unperturbed. “But I’ve made sacrifices for the sake of the Bratva. Sometimes, they’ve come at the expense of my time with Kira. But there are lines I won’t cross, even for this Bratva. Even for you, brother.”
I arch an eyebrow. “Is that so?”
“This Bratva means the world to me. So do you. But I still wouldn’t choose you or it over Kira or Misha. They come first—always.”
“As they should.”
Dominik raises his tea cup like it’s a glass of whiskey. “Kira knows that. She knows without a doubt that I will always put her first. Is Laila confident of the same thing when it comes to your priorities?”
I sigh. “It’s not so simple, Dom?—”
“Of course it is,” he interrupts. “It comes down to one simple question: would you rather have your Bratva or your family?”
“My family,” I admit without a moment’s hesitation. There’s no debate. “But Laila doesn’t want to hear it.”
“You think I landed Kira by sitting around and playing by the rules? Her parents hated me. They were doing their damnedest to talk her out of giving me a chance.” He shrugs. “That didn’t stop me from pulling out the big guns.”
“I can’t pull out any guns,” I grumble. “She’s avoiding me like the plague.”
“I can’t believe that I have to tell you this, but—” He leans in with a wry smirk. “—when it comes to matters of the heart, sometimes you have to fight dirty.”