Chapter 14
ROMAN
The snow falls in heavy flakes. Beyond the glass of the terrace, the backyard stretches white and undisturbed, except for two small figures bundled up against the cold.
Amalie and Sasha.
They’re sitting at an easel I provided for them, coats zipped to their chins, boots half-buried in fresh powder. A watercolor tray is balanced somewhat precariously on a low table, an umbrella propped over it to prevent snow from landing in the colors.
I watch them as they paint, their breath coming out in faint puffs. They’re quite a bit of distance away, but near enough that I can see Sasha’s tongue poked out between his lips, a habit of his when he’s in total concentration.
Amalie learns over, murmuring something to him. Sasha laughs.
I should be working. I should be following up on Blair’s information, or reviewing contracts, or giving some serious thought to what exactly Garin might be plotting.
Instead, I’m watching Amalie and Sasha like the world doesn’t exist aside from them.
“Sentimental today.” Andrei joins me at the window.
I still don’t take my eyes off of them. “Say something useful or be quiet.”
He chuckles. “Garin got into your head.”
“He didn’t.” The words shoot out of my mouth. I spoke too quickly and Andrei catches it.
He shrugs one shoulder. “He’s pushing, like usual. But it seems harder this time. He could be getting desperate.”
I nod. “If I get out of the game and get my IPO off the ground, that’ll shake things up for him, and he won’t be happy about it. And more than that, it’ll put me out of reach. My empire will still exist, but in a world he’ll never be able to touch.”
“That’s right,” Andrei says. “If you stay connected to the Bratva world, he’s still got a chance of taking over.
But if you go legit…” He lets the words linger for a beat before speaking again.
“Anyway, he might be getting desperate, as I said. Desperate people do stupid things like stroll into their rival’s home and all but threaten them. ”
He’s correct, of course. It’s no secret that Garin wants what I have, wants to seize my empire from me and take me out of the picture permanently.
But he’s always been smart enough to play things close to the chest, even work with me when it benefited us both.
Making a move as bold as he did today is new for him.
Garin is rattled.
My eyes remain on the scene outside. I watch as Amalie presses her gloved hand to Sasha’s shoulder, encouraging him.
The boy beams up at her, an expression I’ve rarely seen from him since his mother passed.
He shows her his painting. I have to squint, but it looks like a splotchy green-and-white impression of the snow-covered backyard and the trees beyond.
She claps, a huge, beautiful smile on her face. My chest warms.
“She’s good with him,” Andrei says. “Very good. I can’t remember the last time I saw him open up like this. He was nowhere close to being this way with any of the other nannies.”
Amalie isn’t the first nanny I’ve hired. None of the others lasted, always getting frustrated with Sasha and the walls he’d built around himself since losing his mother.
I avoid responding, instead changing the subject. “Bigger things to worry about right now.”
“Perhaps. But you’re still noticing all the same.”
“I notice everything.”
“Indeed you do. But not everyone distracts you.”
I grit my teeth, shooting him a glare sharp enough to cut glass.
He holds up his hands. “Observation, not judgement.”
I say nothing, turning my attention back to the scene outside.
I watch as Amalie moves to the edge of the terrace and scoops a handful of snow, packing it gently between her mittens before giving it to Sasha.
She’s teaching him to paint with it as a texture, smearing it gently onto the page, letting it melt into the colors.
She is an unexpected softness in my world, which is otherwise hard as granite.
And she’s dangerous. But in a completely different way than Nikolai Garin.
Andrei clears his throat. “Blair texted. Said the sooner you can offer the investors assurances, the better.”
“I’ll speak to him when I’m ready.”
“I can see his point. No one wants to have reasons to second-guess themselves on the verge of a deal like this. And Garin either thinks you won’t make it to the finish line, or he’s actively planning for you not to. Either way, it’s a problem.”
“I know. His confidence today was not all a show.”
“Yes. It bothered me.”
It bothered me too. Garin is a snake—patient, venomous, and always smiling when he strikes.
My pulse slows at the sight of Amalie with Sasha, easing me in a way that few things do.
All the same, I know I should not be looking at her like this.
And yet, I cannot help it.
Later, after Sasha’s lesson and lunch, I find Amalie washing dishes in the small utility sink in the art room. Her sleeves are rolled to her elbows, her hair still a bit mussed from her hat.
“Painting outside,” I say from the door. “In the middle of winter.”
She startles just a bit, then glances over her shoulder. “Technically, it’s nearly the end of winter. Almost spring.”
I chuckle.
She turns back to the water, her hands busy under the stream. I can’t tell if she’s happy to see me or not.
“We weren’t outside that long. Promise. I just wanted him to feel it. The snow, the winter air, the way sunlight reflects off fresh powder. You can’t paint something honestly if you don’t feel it.”
I lean against the door frame. “Feel the cold?”
“Feel the reality of it, the inspiration.” She turns off the water and faces me, drying her hands on a nearby towel.
“Look, kids are literal. They draw what they see. But real artists draw what they feel. And Sasha’s got that spark.
He’s going to remember the details—the cold, the way the snow slid down the paper.
But the spark needs to be fed, nurtured. ”
My face remains impassive, not betraying the fact that she’s speaking about my boy in precisely the way I’ve always hoped a nanny would but never has.
“And,” she adds, lifting a brow, “we made sure to have hot chocolate after.”
I chuckle, genuinely amused. “Good to know he’s being taken care of.”
“He is.” Her response is perhaps more serious than she intended.
“I know he is.”
She pauses at the sincerity of my tone, the honesty in those four words. I clear my throat. Thankfully, she changes the subject.
“That man. The one who was here earlier.”
“Garin.”
Her posture stiffens. “Yes. He seemed intense.”
“That’s one word.”
She glances off to the side, shaking her head. “The way he looked at Sasha…” Amalie trails off, but her tone asks the question she’s too careful to say out loud.
“He’s not stupid enough to threaten my son.”
She arches an eyebrow. “But he’s stupid enough to threaten you?” Her eyes flash after she speaks, her mouth flattening into a hard line. She realizes she might’ve spoken out of turn.
Her words interest me. “How do you know he threatened me?”
She shrugs, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. “I don’t know. Just the vibe I got from him. I didn’t like him one bit.”
Amalie’s astute, no doubt about that. She may not be a part of this world, but she’s got the instincts for it.
“He’s not my favorite person, either. But I’m managing him.”
“Does your way of managing include not telling me anything?”
I raise a brow. “You think this is something you need to know about?”
“If it involves Sasha or me potentially being in danger, then yes. I do.”
“Part of keeping you out of danger involves making sure you know only what you need to.”
She narrows her eyes. Something crackles between us—tension threaded with attraction, frustration, fear, and something else neither of us quite knows what to name.
“I’m not a child, Roman,” she says. “And I’m not fragile.”
“I know.”
“Do you?” Her voice raises but trembles at the same time. “I know I’m new to your life, but I don’t want you seeing me as some little girl you need to keep in the dark.”
“My life is dangerous.”
“So are feelings you don’t deal with.”
I blink. She realizes what she said just a second too late. Her face flushes.
“I mean, your situation, your business.” She glances away, nervously sweeping a few strands of hair behind her ear.
“Amalie.”
She swallows. This is when she normally runs—when things get intense, complicated. So, when she steps back, drying her hands once again, too quickly this time, I know exactly what she’s going to do.
“Amalie.”
She doesn’t say a word. Instead, she brushes past me as she steps out of the room. It’s not cold, not rude. It’s her withdrawing herself from the situation.
I watch her move down the hallway in short, quick steps until she rounds the corner and is gone.
No drama, no slammed door. Just a quiet walk down the hall that hits me harder than it should.
Andrei’s words return to mind—not everyone distracts you.
But she does. She distracts me, disarms me. She makes me want things I have no business wanting, not with Garin circling, not with the IPO on the brink the way it is. Not with half the city wanting me to fall so they can pick my corpse clean.
But when she walked away a part of me followed her.
And that’s more dangerous than I want to admit.