42. Sandrine
Sandrine
Kirill rains his terror all over the country for the next two weeks. More Bratva leaders have fallen under the spectacular weight of my husband’s force.
He thinks I can roll over just as easily.
“I said no.” He doesn’t raise his voice to me, but his tone is heavy and immovable, like everything else about him.
“It’s just a little birthday party,” I inform him, keeping my tone even and very careful. “It’s for a girl with autism in Violet’s class. The mom told me no one else is going.”
“That’s not our problem.”
The our hits me in the chest. Even though we’re in stark disagreement about this, I feel like a solid part of this family with him and our daughter.
So of course I push him.
“The little girl doesn’t have any friends besides Violet. It will be good for her, too. She doesn’t do any playdates.”
Kirill’s jaw tightens. “She has everything she needs here.”
“She needs other children, Kirill,” I argue. “She needs normal things. Friends. I had…” I stop and shrug. “I assume I had friends.”
Kirill exhales slowly, dragging a hand down the front of his jacket like he’s already done with this conversation. “You don’t know these people. I have enemies, Sandrine.”
“The mother is at drop-off and pick-up every day,” I say. “It’s an expensive school. I’m sure she was vetted.”
“Then she could have been bought off or blackmailed since then.”
“She looked tired, Kirill,” I push. “Overwhelmed. I know what that’s like.”
Heck, maybe I need a friend, too.
“And that makes it safe?” Kirill adjusts his coat with precise, sexy movements I don’t want to be affected by right now.
“No,” I admit. “But it makes Violet better than the other students who shun this poor little girl because she’s different.”
“You pick up Violet and bring her home.” He steps closer, close enough that I can feel the heat of him. “I don’t like when we fight,” he says in a low voice. “We had a terrible fight the night you left.”
Because he didn’t want me to leave and I did.
“I’m sorry.” My heart aches, hearing the pain in his voice.
“We lost five years because of it, Sandrine.”
I get his angst, but this is different. He doesn’t understand, and I can’t change his mind. What is the point of all the guards?
“I have to fly to Las Vegas,” he says on a sigh.
But it feels more like a bomb dropping.
“Las Vegas?” My mind races about what can be going on there. “Does this have to do with Elodie?”
“I got a call from Ares,” he says with dread in his voice. “We’re concerned she’s mixed up in something.”
My heart beats wildly. “She’s writing a story about someone there. I’m going with you.”
Kirill barks a laugh. “No. You’re not. Ares is bringing all his guards. Drago and several of our men are coming.”
With that amount of force, it sounds like he’s planning a war. But with who?
He rests his lips on my forehead. “I’ll be home late.”
“You’re not staying the night?”
He scoffs. “Only in a pine box.”
“That’s not funny!” I fold my arms, feeling torn in so many directions.
“Breathe, Sandrine.” Kirill notices immediately and strokes my forehead.
“Please be careful,” I say and kiss him.
“I will. I’ll see you later tonight,” he adds, kissing me back. “I’d prefer it if you were naked in our bed when I got home. I am ravenous for you, moya zhena.”
I shiver and bite my lower lip. “I’d like that.”
Then he’s gone, and for a moment, I stand there, the silence ticking around me.
His warnings echo in my head, but I need autonomy. He needs to learn to trust me and my judgment.
Picking up Violet an hour later, I sit in the passenger row of my Bratva-armored SUV. My guard sits next to the driver as usual. Another SUV with two more guards follows behind us.
I blow out a breath, wondering if Kirill gave them specific instructions to return right home today? Regardless of what I say?
We reach the school, and when I get out, the guard from my car and others in the SUV behind us get out as well. I glance at this show of force and wonder what people think. At the very least, their presence might signal it’s not worth even trying anything with the pakhan’s daughter.
Children’s laughter drifts from the school steps, pulling me out of my stupor. I turn toward the sound and look for Violet. For the little human I made and didn’t remember.
She skips out of school holding Emily’s hand because the little girl is a bit on the impaired side. She’s adorable, and I think of me in the early months of my recovery when I had walking issues, sight issues, and even had trouble speaking.
Emily’s mom waves to them from down the block and then to me. The girls reach me first, and I plant one swift kiss on Violet, who already doesn’t want to be fussed over in public.
“Happy Birthday, cutie pie.” I boop Emily’s mouse headband with sequins. “I like your ears.”
“I got them at Sisney.” She adjusts thick glasses up her nose.
I laugh, but don’t correct her.
“Hi!” Emily’s mom reaches us and looks at me with stress lines, worried I’ll back down from the party. “So can you and Violet come to our house?”
Knowing Kirill will flip if I take Violet to a strange house, even if the guards will let me walk into a stranger’s home, I consider if somewhere public might not get me into trouble.
“How about we take the girls to the ice cream shop on Salem Road?” I suggest.
“That’s a great idea.” Gale holds her chest. “I have balloons in the car. Maybe if we tie them to the chairs, it won’t look like it’s just us.”
That breaks my heart.
“It’s okay if it’s just us.” I touch Gale’s arm. “I don’t tell a lot of people this, but I have a traumatic brain injury.”
Gale’s jaw dropped. “No, I didn’t know. You’re so…”
“I had very good care.” I don’t mention Lakeshore. “It’s okay if Emily has one friend. Too many people at once can be overwhelming.”
“I know. You’re right.” She picks up Emily, who still wants to be held. “Thank you. Follow me.”
I crouch down and take Violet’s backpack.
“Am I going to Emily’s birthday party?” she asks with pleading eyes.
“Yes, but we’re having it at an ice cream shop.” I fix her purple bow. “Just us. It’s invitation only.”
“Ice cream before dinner?” Violet scrunches her nose.
“Just this once.” I kiss her on the forehead. “And don’t tell Daddy.”