Chapter Seven – Roman
“I prefer pancakes and Skittles.” Polina’s voice filtered through the cracks underneath the kitchen doors. Then, steel clambered, and there was a pitter-patter of feet dragging wooden stools.
“So, you never even tried one?”
That was her voice—the woman who managed to leave an impression deep enough to rob me of sleep the previous night. To my surprise, I’d found myself trying to process her strong will, fierceness, and composure. How she’d done it—kept her confidence and even grown stronger now—baffled me.
Eighteen months ago, I’d underestimated her. Sent four of my best men after a girl, had two of them horrendously beaten up, and the other two mysteriously blinded during her escape. Till date, they had no plausible explanation for their incompetence.
And in the present day, I’d still underestimated her.
Women of that caliber were hard to find. And I’d come across many women.
“Oh, I have,” Polly stated, and I imagined her showing some extra sass with an eye roll just to emphasize. “But not many times, and let me tell you, none of them wowed me.”
“ None of them?” Maria spoke in a maturely sarcastic manner, acting like Polly’s reveal was surprising when it wasn’t.
“Ah, but one blew my mind. I don’t think my taste buds are going to ever recover.”
“But one?” Maria’s voice lit up. “I wonder who was able to keep Polina’s taste buds wanting more.”
Polina squealed and might have launched forward in a hug attack as well. “You, of course! I love every bite and lick of it, Maria. Thank you so much!”
It was her thing—hug attacks, most especially when she was very vibrant. And she sounded extremely vibrant.
Whatever they were talking about, it seemed important enough to have Polina’s undivided attention and give her such a bubbling rise of excitement.
I opened the door.
Two pairs of eyes met mine, one more excited and the other losing its light the second I walked through.
“Daddy!” Polly ran to me with her arms opened wide, her hair swish-swaying from side to side, and her teeth all bared.
She jumped on me, her small legs going around my waist as she smacked a wet, brown-stained kiss on my cheek and wrapped her arms around my neck, snuggling her face between the collar of my shirt and jacket.
I knew my daughter. I knew when her display of happiness was exaggerated to try and sway me to believe that she was alright when, in fact, she was not.
However, now was not one of those times.
Whatever Maria had done, it worked. She’d undoubtedly won Polly’s heart. Before this moment, I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen her this happy.
“Was I interrupting something?” I asked Polina, feeling my lips curve at the dreamy smile on her face.
“Yes.”
“No,” came curtly from the other side of the kitchen. When I questioned her with a raised brow, she ducked her head and focused on a pan full of brownies.
“There.” Polly pointed at the large pan Maria placed on the counter with a pair of red-checkered mittens. “Maria was just showing me how to bake those delicious little cuties, and, oh, Daddy! They are simply divine.”
A chuckle rolled at the back of my throat. “So, I was interrupting something.”
I expected Polly to laugh, shake her head, and agree with me like she normally would, but she didn’t. A pout formed, and the corners around her eyes grew slightly hard.
“It’s just that”—she licked her lips and stuck a finger into her mouth—“she refused to let me have more.”
“Wouldn’t be good for your teeth,” Maria butted in, her focus still on her precious brownies.
She didn’t seem interested in our conversation, deliberately tuning herself out. But I saw the pink flush on her cheeks when Polly talked more about her baking and praised her cooking skills.
With slow strides, I placed Polly gently on the island at the center of the kitchen. She leaned over, trying to steal one cool brownie from the tray it had been transferred to, but Maria’s side eye gave her pause.
“I’ve got to join forces with her on this one, baby.” I parted her lips with the fingers on my left hand, using the index on my right to tap her pearly whites. “You have to protect these babies.”
Her sass showcased itself. She mimicked the arc of my eyebrows. “From what?”
Honestly, the more the days passed, the more my admiration for my daughter swelled, with our similarities, her accurate intelligence, and, beyond all that, her unmatched beauty. She glowed, always, like the blinding rays of the fucking sun and was as pleasing as the sight of big, bright flowers in a meadow.
When she was born, Polina had stolen ninety-nine percent of the space in my heart and left the one percent for things she considered unimportant. My baby was my world, and I made sure nothing changed that.
Maria reminded us that she was in the room when she spoke up, her voice resonating with more warmth than I could muster. “Getting rotten, that’s what.”
She faced Polly, having her full attention now after removing the last of the cool brownies from the pan and arranging them in neat rows on the tray.
Maria wagged a finger at Polly, a small smile hanging on her lips.
“You don’t want to know what your teeth are going to look like if you experience the bad, bad side effects of eating too much sweets, Polly. Your molars, premolars, all of ‘em…they’re going to get real bad and ugly, and then, we’d have to double up your dentist appointments—”
“But I don’t like dentist or doctor’s appointments.”
“Ah, well, what can I say? If I allow you to gobble up all of those brownies, Dr. Demetri is going to become your new best friend,” she rounded off, and her eyes shone with mirth.
Polly issued a counterattack, but I was stuck. I couldn’t move past the glow in her tutor’s eyes.
The hazel appeared more golden than green today, and as much as I wanted to blame it on the reflection from the brightness filtering in from outside, I wondered why I was looking at her in the first place.
“Well, if you’d let me stick to my pancakes and Skittles, I wouldn’t be dealing with all of this right now,” Polly countered.
“I can make you a banana milkshake to compensate.”
“Nuh-uh. I want your brownies.”
“No more of the brownies, Polly. Good God, you’ve had four already. That’s way past the limit.”
“But—”
And an argument commenced, with Maria taking the lead.
Her heedfulness and deep concern toward Polly enthralled me. I saw it two days ago when she shielded her and protected her from the enemy like a feral lioness protecting its cub.
It was also as clear as day now as they bickered back and forth about the advantages and disadvantages of having a ridiculous amount of chocolate baked goods. She cared about my daughter’s health with no pretense. I liked it. I liked it a lot more than I would ever admit, which was why I thought she was the best candidate to play the role of Polina’s tutor and nanny.
Cautions and health safety tips flew between them, and the discussion came to an abrupt close when Maria said a few words along the lines of, “…make sure you brush your teeth.”
And that shut Polly up instantly.
The argument ended.
Maria: 1.
Polly: 0.
Grudgingly, she hopped off the island and dragged behind her a huge brown teddy bear I hadn’t noticed earlier when I entered. Maria must have gotten it for her because I couldn’t remember purchasing it….
Polina mumbled a bit of Russian under her breath, distracting me.
She glared at the brownies on the tray and left.
I smiled.
But when she walked out of the kitchen, my window of sunshine slammed shut, taking all of the brightness along with it and allowing the cold and gloom to settle back in.
I wasn’t unaware that Maria and I had been left alone in the large kitchen, and I could feel the heat of her gaze brush over the side of my face as she put away the bowls and utensils in the cabinet.
I turned to her, eyes hard. “You got my daughter a teddy bear?”
She was quiet for a while, chewing the insides of her cheeks as she decided whether or not to respond to me. “Yes,” she finally answered, speaking rather quietly, and put away another bowl. “I did.”
A crinkle formed between my brows as I pondered on the possibility. After a heartbeat, I asked, “Did you take her out of the house?”
“And you wouldn’t have known if we passed through those doors?” Her retort was sharp but not unexpected. “ Pfft. You almost got me there. We both know nothing gets past you unnoticed, I’m sure. Since you have to know, I got it as a gift on my twentieth birthday. A colleague at Rosy’s bought it for me. I’m not a teddy bear person, but I couldn’t say no. So, I thought I’d give Polly a small companion for the nights ahead.”
She dropped her last words, a ghost of a smile on her lips and a wistful look in her eyes as she possibly relived the memories she’d made with her teddy bear.
As quickly as the moment came, she snapped out of it and was now staring at me as though she was waiting for something.
Uncomfortable silence lingered between us, awkward and heavy, before she let out an exasperated sigh with a breath of annoyance. “You’re welcome.”
Her silent accusation put me on the defensive. And I didn’t appreciate the role swap.
“I don’t remember asking you to give my daughter your fucking toy.”
Her annoyance ticked a notch higher. She folded her arms across her chest, nostrils flaring, and looked at me like I was the worst human being on the planet.
“It was a nice gesture.”
“So fucking what?”
“Where I come from, we say, ‘thank you’ for nice gestures.”
I smirked, making sure it looked as arrogant as I instantly felt.
“Look around again, Miss Simmons. You and me, we are not the same. Your rules don’t fucking apply here. So, the next time you think of a nice gesture for Polly, make sure it has my seal on it. I say what’s nice enough for her.”
She was quiet. Tension coiled in her shoulders. I was looking forward to it—the eruption from the volcano, having a piece of her mind shoved in my face and her middle finger hoisted up in the air as she orally submitted her resignation.
I waited and waited, even after she exhaled and flashed a brief smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Yes, sir. I apologize.”
My jaw clenched.
I hadn’t seen that one coming, and it landed on my face like a slap: her submission and how it, very strangely, turned me on.
Unhurriedly, I pulled my hand away from the counter and filled my other pocket.
No.
Not good, Roman. Get your mind out of there.
But it was already too late. As though a veil had been peeled off my eyes, I saw every hidden detail very clearly, now brought under the spotlight: the fitting of the turquoise apron around her slender figure, the way the tips of her lush blonde hair lightly brushed her shoulders.
Her small nose. The unequaled carve of her eyebrows. The sparse freckles scattered across her cheeks. And her lips, appearing soft and full under the light.
I noticed none of those things before, not the way she chewed the insides of her cheeks when she was brooding, nibbled on her fingers after every twenty minutes, or the extra level of caution she applied when moving about or carrying something. In such a short time, I’d discovered that her every action was premeditated.
Maria Simmons was not only smart. She was drop-dead gorgeous. She possessed the type of beauty that made me look twice—that made me consider. That made hot blood burn through my veins and travel below my belt.
She had my full attention, and, again, that was not good.
She lived here now, and that meant seeing her more often than I liked. I had to deal with it quickly—whatever it was.
“I’ve been meaning to ask,” she started, snacking on a piece of a brownie. “When’s the funeral?”
Her question made no sense.
I stuck a hand into one of my pockets and leaned against the counter with the other, drumming my fingers slowly, a motion for her to elaborate.
Her gaze fell to my hands, and something flickered through briefly before she dragged her eyes back to my face. “I meant for your men: Kian and Evgeni.”
Made sense. Hearing their names reignited my burning desire to find out who was responsible and ensure they paid fully for their deaths. Blood for blood.
I shrugged. “Yesterday.”
She frowned. “Yesterday?”
I blew an impatient breath, signaling that any more seconds spent talking with her was an absolute waste of my time. “They were buried yesterday—in an orchard with beautiful trees and the sun shining down on them,” I added, and she got the memo.
Even after trying to hide her disappointment for not being informed, she failed woefully. Her lips took an unhappy curve, and the glimmer in her eyes dulled considerably. “Nice. You gave them a befitting funeral.”
At that point, I couldn’t read her. I didn’t know what she anticipated, what she wanted from me.
An apology for not sending her an invite?
Sure .
I turned around to walk away, but she appeared in front of me, blocking my path. “Before Polina left, what did she say?”
I answered with no hesitation. “Your brownies are going to keep her waiting up all night.”
“Oh.” She sighed in relief. “I feared that I’d really upset her.”
“You didn’t.”
“Good.”
Maria was jittery. Her fingers trembled, and she shifted the weight between her feet. Something else gnawed that mind of hers, somewhat of a contemplation. She rubbed her arms and looked up.
“Would you like to taste one? I mean, a brownie.”
I licked my lips. “Roman.”
She blinked, confusion clouding her expression. “I don’t—I’m sorry, but I’m not sure I understand—”
“Earlier, you addressed me as ‘sir’,” I stated blankly. “Call me Roman.”
“You’re my boss now. I can’t.”
Irritation flared inside my chest. She seemed innocent, as it were, and could not have possibly known that I wanted to get far away from her as soon as possible.
“You want my advice? Do what your boss tells you to.”
I headed for the door again, but her voice's softness kept my feet planted.
“Okay, Roman, would you like to taste a brownie?”
I froze.
The way she called my name….
A bolt of electricity zapped down my spine and instantly made my dick go hard. I gritted my teeth.
She looked on expectantly as I took my time, holding her breath and hoping that, for the first time, I’d debunk all the crazy beliefs she’d made up about me in her head and prove to her that I was human. Believing that I’d succumb mindlessly to the temptation of tasting what she baked.
“No,” I deadpanned and sidestepped, ignoring the flash of hurt and annoyance on her face. “Enjoy the rest of your afternoon, Miss Simmons.”