Chapter 22
GALINA
“Wow.”
Zane’s the first to say something. But it’s not like the rest of us weren’t thinking it as our waitress saunters away.
“That was…forward.”
“It was completely fucking inappropriate,” Papa mutters, his brow furrowed as he shakes his head. “I’m calling over the manager.”
“Oh, come on,” Dad snickers as he glances over his shoulder at “Julia” as she sashays back to the bar. “She was just being friendly.”
“Friendly?” Papa growls. “You call that friendly?”
The four of us are sitting at a window table at Christopher’s, a cute little French bistro near the water in Hawthorne Hollow known for being the go-to place for Knightsblood students when their parents are visiting, like ours are tonight.
Zane grins. “What’s it take for girls to be that ‘friendly’ to me?”
Papa frowns. “Zane.”
When Papa ordered his steak just now, medium rare, he told Julia he wanted it “pink on the inside”.
Julia's response was, “I bet you do, handsome.”
But Papa is shockingly clueless about the effect of his genetics on the humans around him—male and female alike. So while the rest of us bit our tongues, he asked Julia to make sure the chef didn’t overcook it. To which she replied, “Don’t worry, I’ll handle your meat personally.”
Not even Papa missed that one.
“I mean, I get she works for tips,” he frowns. “But Jesus.”
Dad grins. “I don’t think that was about getting a tip, Rome.” He snickers. “Well, not that kind of tip.”
Zane cracks up. I hide my face in my hands. Papa turns red and glares at Dad.
“Val, c’mon.”
Dad chuckles and reaches over to take Papa’s hand. “Hey, I’m the one who should be pissed off. But do I look jealous?”
“No,” Papa growls.
Dad smiles and squeezes Papa’s hand. “And that would be because of the smug I’ve got going on. I mean a pretty girl half our age just basically gave my hot husband her room key.”
Papa frowns. “You seem oddly fine with that.”
“With the sentiment behind it, sure,” Dad shrugs. “With her actually trying something with you?” Something venomous crosses his face, twisting his lips into a dark, cold smile. “Hell no.”
I giggle when he turns to wink at me.
I get that for the uninitiated, it could look like my parents are bickering. But they’re not. Actually, I’m pretty sure “competitiveness” is their love language.
“Did you just call her pretty?”
“Jesus, Roman,” Dad sighs, laughing quietly. “You really wanna go there? Shall we talk about Maks?”
This time it’s Papa rolling his eyes. “Val, give it a rest.”
“Wait, Maks as in your assistant Maks?” Zane says.
“The very same,” Dad mutters. “Walking around all good MORNING, Mr. Nikitin! Can I hand-press your coffee, Mr. Nikitin? Do you need a shoulder rub—”
“He doesn’t massage me, for God’s sake,” Papa sighs.
“Well, he sure prances around in that little bowtie every day,” Dad grunts.
Zane loses it. “Dad, I’m confused. You’re worried about Papa cheating on you with…Bill Nye the fucking Science Guy?”
I laugh so hard I almost pee. So do Papa and Dad.
“For the record,” Dad chuckles, “Bill Nye is a goddamn stud.”
Papa grins, then glances at me. “Everything okay, Lina? You're quiet tonight.”
Zane coughs into his glass as he takes a sip of water. “Boyfriend.”
Dad’s head whips around to look at me with sharply arched brows. Papa chokes on his Diet Coke as he does the same.
What. The. Fuck. Zane?!
I turn and level a withering look at his smug, grinning face, and my cheeks heat as I drag my gaze to my parents. “I don’t have a boyfriend.”
“That’s not how it sounded when I overheard your little friends gossiping about it yesterday,” Zane grins.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” I hiss at him through clenched teeth.
“Hey, I’m just worried about my baby sister winding up with the wrong—”
“Who is this guy?” Papa growls, his voice like stone scraping over gravel.
I give my brother another venomous glare before I turn back to Papa. “I don’t have a boyfriend.”
“Okay, fine. Situationship, fuck buddy,” Dad mutters. “Whatever your generation is calling it.”
I groan as I slump down in my chair. “I do not have a boyfriend. I do not have a situationship. I really do not have a…” My lips purse. “That. Okay?!”
Papa’s still frowning. Dad looks skeptical.
Goddammit, Zane.
Also, I’m extremely curious what the hell he heard.
“Who were you spying on?”
He rolls his eyes. “I wasn’t spying, I was existing. Tell your friends to discuss your personal life in private next time.”
Papa frowns. “Okay, okay. In all seriousness…” He shrugs. “Is there anything we need to know?”
“Anyone we need to meet?” Dad growls, a sinister edge to his tone.
I roll my eyes. “No. And no!” I whip my head around to glare daggers at Zane. “I have no idea what you think you overheard, but I can promise you—”
“Oh, you do not want me to repeat it,” he grins.
“Please do!” I throw back. “I have nothing to hide!”
My brother's jaw works a second before he sighs. “Okay, fine. It was nothing. They were just saying you seemed distracted recently.”
Thank. Fucking. God.
I haven’t told my friends anything about The Ghost Prince, but I know they’re not clueless, and there’s no way my day-to-day behavior hasn’t been at least a little affected by this whole thing with Ghost. I’m sure I do seem distracted.
Yeah, because you’re daydreaming about getting railed by a guy in a mask…
Papa frowns. “Distracted. That’s what they said?”
Zane shrugs.
Papa sighs and turns to me. “So…no boyfriend?”
My mouth sets. “No.”
My dad grins. “Hey, what about girls? Have you ever wondered about playing for the home team? I bet there are some gorgeous ladies at Knightsblood—”
“Dad.”
He smiles weakly. “That was…mostly a joke, for the record.”
I snort. “Yeah, still straight, unfortunately.”
Papa sighs. “Jokes aside, I’m less interested in your sexual orientation than I am the pool from which you’re drawing.”
I frown. “Meaning…?”
“If they’re attending this school,” he growls, “they come a family like ours.”
Zane smirks. “You mean two fathers?”
Papa chuckles and shakes his head. “I mean mafia.” He frowns as he lifts his gaze to me, and then to Zane. “I’ve always hoped that anyone—boy or girl—that you become romantically attached to would not be part of this world.”
Zane rolls his eyes. “Let me get this straight. You don’t mind raising us in a mafia family. But you don’t want us to romantically seek out anyone who was also raised in a mafia family.”
Papa shrugs. “Basically.”
I sigh. “But why? I mean, Zane and I turned out fine.”
Papa sighs. “Our world is dangerous, Lina. We can pretend as much as we want that we’re just a normal family, but your car here at school isn’t just bulletproof because Val and I are overprotective psychos.”
Zane’s brows knit. “Was that you admitting that you both are overprotective psychos?”
“No comment,” Papa chuckles under his breath.
Julia returns with appetizers for the table. She refrains from directing any porn-tastic innuendo at Papa this time, but does draw a quick flicker of anger across Dad’s face when she tries to cajole Papa into ordering a drink off the cocktail list.
“He said he’s fine,” Dad says stonily after Papa, who is twenty-two years sober, himself declines twice.
I excuse myself to go to the ladies' room. As I’m heading back to the table, I end up bumping into Papa as he walks out of the men’s room.
“Hey, listen…” he smiles, looking down into my face as we stand in the back hallway.
“I know you’ll date, dochenka. You’ll probably break a few hearts, too.
” He smiles softly at me. “I just don’t want life to be even more complicated for you.
And I really don’t want it to be more dangerous. That’s all.”
I grin as I hug him tightly, burying my face in his chest.
“You know I love ya to the moon and back, right, kiddo?”
I smile wider against his shirt. “I know. And I love you—”
“—is my HUSBAND!”
Papa and I stiffen and then turn abruptly when we hear Dad’s voice snarling from around the corner. We glance at each other and then walk a few steps over to peek over saloon doors marked “staff only”.
Whoa.
In a small alcove, a white-faced Julia is cringing against the wall looking up in fear at an enraged Val.
Dad looks fucking furious as he glares down into her face.
“And given that he is my fucking husband,” he hisses, “he and his fucking meat belong to me. Do you fucking understand that?”
Julie nods quickly. “I—yes! Of course, sir! I’m so sorry! I had no idea—”
“Also,” Dad snaps, cutting her off, resting a tattooed fist against the wall next to her.
“My husband is sober. He doesn’t drink. Ask him if he wants a cocktail one more motherfucking time and I’ll deflate those cheap implants with those even cheaper Louboutin knockoffs you’re clomping around in. Do you understand?”
Julia nods her head so fast I'm surprised it doesn't fall off.
“I came here tonight to enjoy a meal with my wonderful children and my sexy husband. And I’d like to finish doing that without any more of your bullshit. Think we can do that, Julia?” he snarls.
Her head nods violently again. “Of course, sir! I am so sorry—”
Papa and I shrink back into the hallway as Dad ignores whatever lame apology Julia is attempting to stammer out and kicks open the door. He storms out, not seeing us as he turns and marches back to our table.
Papa chuckles. When I glance at him, he’s got puppy dog eyes trained on Dad. Then he grins and glances down at me. “Some advice, kiddo?” He nods his chin at Dad. “Whoever you end up with, find someone who’ll do unhinged shit like that to make sure you’re respected. Trust me.”