16. Rashid
RASHID
My phone pulls me out of a dead sleep at ten minutes past five. I grab it off the nightstand and see Dr. Volkov's name on the screen, and sit up before I answer.
I wasn't expecting the results so soon, especially not this time of the morning, but he knows how eager I am to have this confirmed.
Nothing is more important to me right now than knowing if that boy is mine.
"Tell me," I grumble, fighting back a yawn. My alarm was set to go off in twenty minutes, and I'm pulling myself out of the middle of a sleep cycle. But I need to hear this.
"I rushed the preliminary panel for you.
The markers are strong across the board and I'm seeing better than ninety-six percent probability of paternity.
I'd stake my reputation on it, Rashid. That boy is yours.
" Volkov's tone is sharp. He's probably been awake all night working on this for me. I need to pay him more.
I close my eyes and pinch the bridge of my nose. I knew it the moment I saw his face, but hearing it confirmed is still shocking.
It doesn't bring relief—it brings anger that Emory kept this from me. How did she think she was going to get away with this?
"When will you have the full results?" I sit straighter, blinking my heavy eyes to force myself more awake, but my body is heavy, urging me to lie back down and sleep as if this is all a dream.
"Two to three days for the comprehensive panel, but I wouldn't expect the numbers to change. The preliminary markers are definitive enough that I'd be comfortable calling it now." He sounds so confident, and being the expert I have to trust him.
"Then call it. Send me the documentation when it's ready." I hang up and rub a hand over my face, tossing my phone to the night stand.
After news like that I know I won't get back to sleep even if I try, so I dress and walk toward my office. I'm still half-asleep, stumbling as I walk past one of my favorite paintings on the wall in the hallway.
It's a copy of a Surikov, not the one in the club, but another one I'm fond of.
And pausing, I think of that night with Emory and how much it moved me that she knew the painting, well enough to be amazed by it.
If she wasn’t already intoxicating to me at that point, it would have been enough for me to crave her for the rest of my life, which is what I’ve been doing.
And now that I’ve discovered her little secret I feel my chest being torn down the middle.
I hoped that with time perhaps I'd find her again, our paths would cross, and it would be different this time.
But the fact that she could keep this from me is so infuriating, and humiliating.
I can't just kill her like I would someone who wronged me.
She's the mother of my child, and honestly, I still fucking want her.
Does that make me sick?
I pour my coffee and walk to my office, sitting down at my desk.
This anger isn't going anywhere, so I put it to work and call Devid.
He answers with a sleepy voice, but I know in five seconds he's going to knowt that I want information and he'll snap out of it.
I just can't sit here stewing or I'll be too angry to move past it all day.
"I need an update on Rostov," I grumble, reaching for my cup of hot coffee. It'll help me wake up faster.
"Yeah, well we found him. I was just letting you sleep until your alarm," he mumbles, yawning. Found him and letting me sleep, my ass…. He just didn’t want the wrath of waking me in a grumpy mood.
"Where?"
"He's holed up in a hostel on Vasilyevsky Island. Place called the Neva Rooms. He checked in under a different name and paid cash. Hasn't left the room except to buy vodka from the shop on the corner." Devid yawns again and says, "We think he did it because the girl didn't come home."
"That's all the way across town from his apartment. Why would he leave?" If my child didn't come home, I definitely would not be vanishing.
I'd be sitting in my home waiting for her to return, unless he fears his employers have her—but why would they do that?
He just gave them solid intel to bury me.
"He's scared of somebody. Could be Gusev, could be you, could be both. Either way he's not acting like a man who thinks he can go home. He's on the run scared, boss. Probably won't leave town without the girl, though." Now Devid is thinking straight.
And I'm not taking any chances. "Send a team to collect him and bring him here. Don't hurt him and don't make a scene. He's the girl's father and I need him cooperative, not beaten to a pulp." If Rostov shows up here bloodied, Emory will never yield to me or be pliable.
I have no intention of letting that boy go, so that means a very tense life for my foreseeable future. I have to keep her calm.
"You want him today?" I hear a lighter flick and Devid suck on a cigarette.
"I want him before noon. And make sure your men understand that this is not a torture event. This man's going to be a guest in my home whether he likes it or not, and I don't want him showing up with bruises that I have to explain to his daughter."
"Understood. I'll send Mikhail and two others. They'll be gentle." When he says "gentle" he means he won't draw blood, but that doesn't mean he's going to be kind.
"Get it done," I say, hanging up and sipping my coffee. The house is starting to wake up now. I can hear Marta moving in the kitchen and the radiator clicking in the hallway as the heat kicks on. And in the distance I faintly hear some fussing, like the boy is awake and not being tended properly.
I push back from my desk and walk into the hallway.
Emory's pacing the front of the house with Lex on her hip. His face is red and scrunched up and he's screaming.
At first I wonder how she's gotten out here alone when I gave orders for her to be watched, but a quick check down the hall reveals Krispin, standing with his shoulders squared and his hands clasped behind his back, watching her.
She sees me and stops. "Your guard won't leave me alone. I can't even walk to the bathroom without him standing outside the door." She rolls her eyes, looking annoyed at me, and I scowl.
"He's doing his job."
"His job is to make me feel like a prisoner?" She bounces the boy, who quiets momentarily as he stares at me with wide eyes. I'm beginning to wonder if he just hates all men or if it's me in particular.
"His job is to make sure you don't leave this house with the boy. If you want to walk around freely you can, but he stays with you." I nod toward the kitchen. "Come eat something. You must be famished."
She scowls again but she follows me into the kitchen.
Marta's already setting out bread and fruit and a pot of kasha.
I pull a chair out for Emory, but she stands bouncing Lex on her hip, trying to quiet him.
I'm not sure what the problem is but he's just so damn fussy. Even his own mother can't keep him quiet.
"Can you make the boy stop?" I ask, pouring a second cup of coffee that I set on the table for her. It's annoying that I have to put up with this so early in the morning.
"His fucking name is Aleksander!" she snips. "And he's not a machine, Rashid. He's a baby. He's in a strange house and he hasn't slept well and he's probably hungry and scared. You can't just make a child stop crying because it bothers you."
Her expression is pure hatred.
I want to smack it right off her face, but I know it's the wrong move.
She's the boy's mother and she knows far more about rearing children than I do.
She pulls Lex tighter against her, and his crying drops a notch, but he's still fussing. "Has it occurred to you that he's been ripped away from the only home he knows? That he doesn't understand what's happening? He just knows everything is wrong."
"Then help him understand," I growl through clenched teeth, unable to fight back my anger.
"He's eighteen months old. He doesn't understand words yet.
He understands tone and touch and whether he feels safe.
And right now nothing in this house probably feels safe to him.
" She shifts Lex to her other hip and he buries his face against her neck.
"This is exactly why I didn't tell you about him.
You hear a child crying and your first instinct is to silence him instead of asking what's wrong.
He's not one of your men you can just order around.
He needs patience and warmth and someone who actually cares about what he's feeling. "
I stalk past her to the fridge where I get the jug of milk.
Marta is avoiding eye contact to stay out of this argument, and I bite my tongue rather than snapping back again.
I don't understand children.
I've never had to and I've never wanted to.
This is not something I would've chosen for myself.
She chose it for me when she decided to keep my son a secret, and now we're both dealing with the consequences of her decision.
"Sit down and feed him," I tell her. "Marta can warm some milk."
She sits, finally, and settles Lex on her lap.
Marta brings a small cup of warm milk and Emory holds it for him while he drinks.
It occurs to me that the boy probably needs a bottle or one of those sipper cups, but the crying stops almost immediately.
My head is spinning, anger swarming in my chest as I stew. I absolutely detest how I feel, but there's nothing to be done.
I just need time to wrap my head around this, and when this kid gets a little older it'll be easier.
"The DNA results came back this morning," I tell her curtly.
She doesn't look up from Lex. She just keeps holding the cup steady and watching him drink. It's like she is trying to block me out.
"There's a ninety-six percent probability he's mine."
"I know he's yours," she says quietly. "I've always known. I didn't need a test to tell me that." Emory sounds sad as she says it, which only twists the knife more.
"But you let me live without knowing all this time?"
"I did what I thought was right for my son."
"And now I'm going to do what I think is right for mine.
" I wait until she looks at me with fear in her eyes.
"The arrangement I told you about last night is permanent.
The boy stays in this house where he belongs.
He lives here, he grows up here, and he's raised as my heir.
You can stay with him or you can leave, but he doesn't go with you. "
She glares at me but I’m not finished. "Besides, your father will be here soon. Then won't we be just one big happy family?"
The color drains from her face and she holds Lex closer. "What did you do?"
"I'm trying to keep your family alive. You should thank me."
Before Emory can respond, my mother walks in.
I see hatred flash in Emory's eyes before she calms and stands up with the boy, turning to my mother.
"Anna," she says, revealing that she's gotten to know the old bat a little better. "Would you mind watching Aleksandr for a few minutes? I need to speak with Rashid alone."
My mother sets her tea down and crosses the kitchen holding out her arms. Emory stands and transfers the boy to her gently. I expect more wailing, but Lex goes to my mother without complaint and settles easily. The milk is magic apparently.
Then Emory turns to me and grabs my hand.
Her fingers dig into my wrist and she doesn't ask permission.
She just pulls me to my feet and out of the kitchen into the hallway.
This ought to be good.