Chapter 15 Sergei
SERGEI
Once I reiterated to Natalie that I would help her find another job, she seemed more willing to be an extended guest at my apartment.
That was my first mistake—not realizing how much she’d need to feel like she was contributing and working.
Her independence wasn’t a stylistic preference.
The longer she stayed in my home, the more I realized that she needed to feel like she could handle life on her own.
Probably because of how reliant she was on her husband when he was alive.
I had yet to find the right time to ask her about him, to inquire whether he’d been a dominant provider who forbade her from thinking for herself or handling anything.
With how often Natalie liked to cook and tidy the apartment, I got the impression she was happiest as a traditional woman, tending to her daughter and the house.
Perhaps it wasn’t her late husband making her have that role, but it was one she gravitated toward naturally.
Telling Natalie that I would help her find another job after losing her bartending one at the Diamond Mirage appeased her. I noticed the difference in her attitude, and that was when she fully started to embrace the opportunity to do nothing but be Maisie’s mother.
And my houseguest.
Calling her my friend felt like a lie and a truth.
She was here because I cared, as a friend.
But more than that, I wanted the freedom to pursue something more.
Something that we both seemed to be ignoring since our last kiss on the sidewalk.
A lingering pull stayed constant between us, but I didn’t make a move.
She wasn’t as skittish in my home. What held me back was the gift and reward of seeing her truly relax.
Day in and out, she was here for her daughter. Playing. Reading. Coloring. Practicing writing. Teaching her how to fold towels. How to mix ingredients to bake cookies.
I wasn’t there, hovering all the time. I still had my job as my uncle’s enforcer. Often away for meetings or to handle the people who wanted to mess with the Family, I could rely on texting Natalie about what they were up to. It wasn’t to check in, but because I was curious.
One week passed, and Natalie ceased asking about her apartment and when she could leave.
Having her go with guards to collect toys and clothes for her and Maisie almost seemed like a step toward their moving in officially, but it wasn’t like that.
Maisie had just wanted “her” things that she was familiar with.
The next week passed by, and Natalie didn’t ask as often about whether her building was safe and if my men found out anything about the guys who’d followed her.
Honestly, I did have George on it. He was looking into why those Popovs were harassing her. It didn’t mean anything, and it was a case of her being in the wrong place at the wrong time. But I deliberately remained vague and gave Natalie the impression that she was safest here.
I couldn’t let her go.
I didn’t want to imagine her not being in my home. More than that, I was getting far too used to having the clutter and noise of a child in my penthouse too.
“She’s really opening up more,” Mikhail commented one time when we were at his building, the one right next to mine.
He had several more floors dedicated to his residence, to make it like a mansion rather than a skyscraper.
When I first brought Natalie and Maisie here for dinner, they were both stunned and in awe.
I glanced at him, then at the rest of them in the lounge.
“Natalie?” I guessed. He had to be talking about her.
Since that initial introduction I brokered between my uncle and Natalie, she had relaxed more.
Telling her she could be employed again calmed her down and likely dissuaded her from feeling like a charity case.
Letting her take over the household chores like cooking, cleaning, and laundry seemed to give her a purpose too.
Natalie no longer acted like the skittish, confused, and worried houseguest.
“Well, her too.” He gestured at his daughter. “I meant Anya.”
I looked again and almost smiled. The teen really had changed since meeting Maisie. She smiled more. She sought ways to entertain Natalie’s daughter. “Maybe that shouldn’t be so surprising,” I replied. “She was an only child all her life, estranged.”
Mikhail nodded. “If she’s been lonely and hoping for a family, or siblings, then this is turning out well.”
I snorted a laugh. “Sure. Since Claire’s already halfway through her pregnancy, right?”
He smiled, looking not like the stern, diplomatic, and ruthless uncle who was also my boss, but a family man. “It’s just been us for so long. It seems like so much is changing so quickly.”
He was right. It was just us, the guys. Now, he was engaged and expecting a child while adapting to his estranged teenaged daughter living here. I had a “friend” as a semi-permanent houseguest with her daughter.
But how was I supposed to bridge the gap between what Natalie and I currently had and what we might be able to have?
She was a “friend” per my explanation of how I cared to save her and bring her here.
I was her “boyfriend” when she needed a stand-in to deflect men harassing her at that bar.
Now… I had no clue how to move forward. She was already worried about being bought. She still clung to the claim that I forced her to come home with me even though it was for her own good.
I sighed, watching the women talk about the upcoming wedding while Anya and Maisie played and colored. There was no doubt that these two were becoming more used to us. I was slowly integrating them into the Orlov Family.
The other day, I overheard her asking Claire and Anya more about what we all did for work, and she more or less understood that we were members of a Mafia organization. It still didn’t make her run screaming and scared.
Another time, when Roman asked her if she’d like to join him and everyone else at the indoor pool in his building for an impromptu birthday party, I heard her admitting to my brother that she was an outsider, a guest, and not belonging as a part of celebrating special occasions meant for the family.
How do I make her feel like she can belong?
When can I ask her more about her past? She’ll clam up.
Why is she so determined to keep a line between us?
Almost a month had passed and this unspoken distance between us, a distinction between her as an outsider, stayed constant.
Knowing how skittish she was and how inexperienced and lost she might feel, discouraged me from simply taking her like I wanted to.
How others might have, without any bother about how she’d react.
The next day, in my office, George entered and closed the door behind him.
I looked up and raised my brows in a silent question. “Were there any incidents?” I asked.
In another attempt of letting Natalie feel like she belonged, I had her accompany Anya and Claire to the bridal gown store. Maisie was over-the-moon excited about it. It seemed the idea of adults playing “dress up” was more entertaining than her pretending she was a princess herself.
Before George could reply, my cousin entered the office.
“Andre. Long time, no see,” I quipped. I saw him every day, but lately, with his looking into the Giovanni family trying to meddle with our drug distribution, he’d been busier than usual.
He dipped his chin as a hello, seeming to be in a hurry right now. “Did you tell him?”
I closed my laptop and stood. “Tell me what?” Assuming the worst, I cringed and rubbed the back of my neck.
“Fuck. Don’t tell me someone else had to keep someone away.
” Natalie and Maisie didn’t leave often.
They preferred the hominess of being here as fall approached winter.
But the one time they did go out, some asshole got too close and the guards had to resort to fighting them back.
I had been so careful not to expose Maisie—or Natalie—to any direct violence.
They’d gotten more than they ever should have that one night.
Maisie had already been uprooted, and while she seemed happy at my penthouse with her mother never having to work, I dreaded letting her think it could be dangerous here, too.
“Not quite.” Andre cleared his throat. “I was checking in with some of my crew, and it sounds like the Popovs are catching up.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Catching up to what?”
“The Cartel’s been their focus the last few weeks. They’ve been trespassing on their territory,” he said.
I didn’t give a shit. Niko Popov had always been an enemy of the Orlov Family.
They always would be. They’d get no sympathy from me—ever.
But I did care to know what was going on out there.
We had to always be aware of what threats were circulating, and never in the sense that the enemy of our enemy was our ally.
We had none. Orlovs ruled solo and at the top.
“Since that activity has settled down, it seems like Niko’s looking to retaliate for your killing his men.”
I arched one brow. “The night they chased Natalie and Maisie?”
He nodded. “Word is that he’s escalating his threats. An eye for an eye and all that shit. My father’s informed about it, but I wanted to tell you directly that threats are mentioning Maisie by name now.”
“Fuck.” I gritted my teeth and paced.
“I’ve got my crew monitoring the situation.”
George cleared his throat. “And I’m ready to adjust to whatever else is necessary in light of this news.”
“Fuck.” I repeated it even though I knew how useless it was.
Cursing would solve nothing. Raging wouldn’t either.
But that summed it up. I damn well knew that stepping up and saving Natalie and Maisie that night would set up the Popovs—and any other criminal family—to associate her as one of ours.
That was the situation we encountered when Mikhail fell for Claire, too.
“My father has stressed that I’ll direct the response to these threats,” Andre added.
“The hell you will.” I glared at him.
He shook his head, unbothered by the tension I couldn’t hide in my reply. “And he’s right. You’re too close, too emotional about protecting them.”
“Emotional?” I scoffed. He made it sound like I was hysterical and illogical. I wasn’t. Yet, I couldn’t deny the wisdom in my uncle’s decision to have my cousin lead the response to the Popov threats. At the moment, I couldn’t see past the rage of anyone targeting that innocent child.
Protecting Natalie and Maisie had become personal. It was no longer a duty. It was no longer a matter of keeping Natalie close because she was on my mind and I was curious. It wasn’t about wanting her and ensuring I wouldn’t lose a chance to have her.
I cared, dammit.
Too much.
Now, it was fine-tuned into a situation of survival. Somehow, despite Natalie’s reluctance to be here and to let me take control, she’d become family.
Not a friend.
Not even a lover—and we hadn’t even fucked yet.
The concern I had for her wasn’t skin-deep. Worrying about her and wanting her to be happy cut me right down to my heart.
“Are you certain you want to be this serious about her?” Andre asked.
I furrowed my brow. “What gives you the idea that I’m not?”
He held up his hand, as if to ward off my temper. “My father asked me to put you on the spot and get a final answer.”
“Yes, I’m fucking serious about keeping her safe,” I roared, glad that the walls were thick and they wouldn’t hear me outside this room.
“Serious about keeping Natalie in your life?” Andre asked. “As your woman?”
I exhaled through my nose, wishing I could growl out my frustration. The mere hint of someone wanting to harm Natalie or Maisie had me tense and volatile.
I hadn’t claimed her, not sexually or formally or any other way there was.
I hadn’t even found the time to discuss the future and what I wanted with her, too careful to go easy and slow with her, not to spook her or overwhelm her.
“Because if you’re serious about keeping her—them—and making her a permanent inclusion in the family, we need more intel about her, about her background, before she can fully be seen as family.” Andre didn’t raise his voice as he bluntly told me what I already knew.
“I understand that,” I bit out. “I’ve been wanting to approach everything slowly. Carefully. But…” I hung my head, annoyed with the ache in my upper back. “But I understand his perspective.”
If the boss of the Orlov organization was going to protect Natalie and Maisie from the full force of our enemies, something more than what I’d done that night on the street, he had every right to know that they were people who would not betray us. Who would stay for good.
Looking my cousin dead in the eye, I swallowed hard and admitted the truth.
“I’m serious about keeping her.”
I just need to tell her that first.