24. Sandrine
Sandrine
Back in my bedroom at Iron Keep, I shut the door behind me, my heart pounding.
My hands drift to my stomach without thinking, my palms pressing lightly against the soft curve there. Lourdes’s comment that she noticed I had more of a belly knocks me sideways.
My hands look different. I see them holding Violet as a baby. The baby in those photographs.
God, she was so small, just three weeks old when I left her. Left them. The thought that I could leave my baby cripples me like a sharp and disorienting blow all over again.
In the mirror, I stare at my reflection. At the woman who Kirill Volkov chose. I’m sure he had other options as the Bratva heir, as a rich and devastatingly handsome man.
But he also kept us a secret. Something nags at me that there’s more to that part of the story.
I swallow hard, forcing the emotion down, while I choose an outfit for our date. A winter white sweater dress with a saddle brown belt feels appropriate. On the far wall are boots. I snag a pair the same color as the belt.
The dress fits, just not perfectly. It clings to my hips a little more than I’m comfortable with. I don’t have the luxury of unraveling over it. Not here. Not now.
A mirrored and gold-trimmed jewelry box on the center dresser catches my eye. I assume it’s mine, so I open it gently.
It’s filled. Not with just a few pieces, not sparse and cheap.
There’s an array of necklaces, bracelets, and rings, all sparkling, all expensive-looking.
Purchased by Kirill, I assume, and given to me as gifts.
Each piece is more intricate than the last. Colorful gemstones catch the light. Emerald, sapphire, and amethyst.
Holding up the ruby necklace, I consider the memories I made wearing it. Memories that are stored somewhere in my head.
But nothing is forming in my mind’s eye. My heart feels it. It’s strong.
“You look pretty,” a soft voice cuts through the pulsing in my ears.
Violet stands in the doorway to my closet, her eyes wide and warm as they take me in.
“Thank you,” I manage finally.
She steps into the closet in one fluid motion, much the way she walks through this mansion while everyone else tiptoes. She owns this home and the heart of everyone in it.
After her snack, Violet showed me everything in her bedroom. My eyes teared up at how Kirill put so much thought into it.
“They’re all sparkly.” Her gaze drifts to the jewelry box. “Can I play with them?”
“Of course.” I bring the box to the edge of the dresser since it’s only eye level for her.
She climbs up onto the small stool beside me with an ease that suggests she’s done this before.
“Do you help your daddy get ready?”
She nods. “I pick out his ties.”
My ovaries explode at that.
“Did you pick one out for tonight?” I watch her as she studies the jewels, her brow furrowing slightly in concentration before she chooses a thin gold chain with a purple stone pendant.
“Yep.” She beams and holds up the necklace triumphantly. “You should wear this one. It matches Daddy’s tie, and it’s my favorite color.”
“Purple is your favorite color?” I ask, taking the necklace from her little hand.
“It’s my name. Violet.” She pops off the stool and twirls. “Daddy said he named me because it was the color you painted with all the time.”
A flash of that book I saw in the library hits me. All the paintings. Florals with shades of purple.
“Purple is my favorite color, too,” I say softly.
She beams with a bright, unguarded smile. I lift my hair and clip on her chosen necklace. The stone hangs heavy against my chest.
Looking down, I see cleavage plumped up from the dress’s neckline that I didn’t notice before. It’s mostly from the fancy bra I found. And the matching lace thong.
“What do you think?” I ask, letting my hair fall back into place.
It brushes past my shoulders, but in the photos that Lourdes showed me from our childhood, I wore it much longer in my teens.
Someone shaved my head after the accident for all the surgeries I needed. I just kept it at this length, thinking that was who I was. More lies.
“Wow,” Violet coos. “You’re so pretty. Daddy missed you so much.”
My stomach heaves, but she says it so matter-of-fact. No sadness or bitterness.
“I, I missed you both.” I hold out my arms, and she falls into me again.
“Oh good. But you’re better now. Not sick anymore.” She looks up at me. “Right?”
“Right. I’m definitely better now.” A soft laugh escapes me because it’s the truth.
“Now you need bracelets. I like the way they sound.” She squirms away and reaches into the box again, pulling out a set of thin gold bangles. “Here. These.”
I slide on three and then hold out the other two.
“Why don’t you wear these so we match?” I say, my heart in a free fall.
“Can I?” She holds out her wrist eagerly.
“Of course.” I slide the bangles over her small hand.
“They jingle. Like bells.” She shakes her arm, and they clang together.
She giggles again like when we played our game. It bubbles up out of her almost uncontrollably, and the cheerful sound fills the small space of the closet.
I giggle with her. An adult version of giggling. For a moment, this feels…easy. Is it this easy to be a mom? Living in a mansion with a nanny and endless money should make it easy. But Violet seems like such an easy child.
“Come on. Daddy is waiting for you.” She pulls me.
“He is?” I say, letting her drag me away.
“He went downstairs hours ago.”
I laugh, doubting it’s been hours.
But she’s right. Kirill is downstairs, standing just off a hallway near the kitchen. He’s talking to Drago while a tall and bulky guard hovers behind the enforcer.
Kirill is dressed in a dark suit that looks molded to his body. The suit makes him look just as broad, and when I’m with him, everything else feels smaller.
The sight of him knocks the breath from my lungs, my body reacting before I can control it. A sharp awareness of arousal sends my pulse racing.
I steady myself, taking slow footsteps.
Hearing me approach, he turns around, and his gaze flicks over me in a way that feels both claiming and possessive. Even a little carnal.
“Daddy!” Violet chirps and runs to him, her bangles clinking with every step. She holds up her arm, shaking it so the bracelets chime together, her face bright with pride. “Look!”
He glances down at her and wears a proud smile that’s now etched in my brain. His usual hardness fades away as he crouches slightly to meet her at eye level.
“You both look beautiful,” he says, his voice warm and loving.
My breath catches because I don’t know if he really thinks that I look beautiful. Or if this is all an act to make Violet think we’re living some fairy tale. But Kirill’s gaze dragging up and down my frame twists heat low in my stomach.
Violet twirls again, the bangles jingling, not noticing the heat simmering between her parents.
“Your macaroni and cheese is ready,” her father tells her gently with a kiss on the forehead. “You can eat in the upstairs media room. Aunt Ksenia will do your bath and put you to bed.”
At that cue, Drago and his men leave through the kitchen door where cars idle in the rear courtyard.
“Goodnight, Mommy,” Violet says, and skips toward me, her face beaming as if she knows she’ll see me again tomorrow.
With her head tilting toward me, she signals she must want a kiss. I’ve never kissed a child. Not that I remember.
“Goodnight, sweet Violet,” I reply, bending down to press a gentle kiss on her lips.
They’re soft and cool.
She skips back to Kirill, slipping her hand into his. Together they move down the hallway. He pauses just before turning, his body angled, but his gaze finds mine.
The world narrows to the look he gives me. Unspoken promises pass between us. I bite my lip and wait a beat.
And then he smiles.
I exhale, happy that he’s happy. When everything softens, the sharp lines of his face make him look less like the man who put a gun to my head and more like the one in the framed photographs from this afternoon.
Thank you… He mouths and then leaves for the stairway, the sound of Violet’s bangles fading down the hallway.
It’s crazy how much I instantly miss them after only a few seconds.
My poor family missed me for five years.