75. -74-
Nina
The coffee machine hummed, disturbing the calming silence in the kitchen.
I stared at the droplets falling into the mug, my brain glitching as it jumped from one thought to another.
There was no order to them. The images of a car crash, an unborn baby, a funeral, and Dorian covered in blood torturing faceless men invaded my mind, dragging my concentration from everything else.
It was a horrible tragedy. One that surprisingly wasn’t caused by a mafia lifestyle, and maybe that’s why it hurt so much just to think about it. And knowing how it affected Dorian, my heart almost broke for him.
He was so lonely in his suffering. Everyone believed he moved on, but he stayed frozen in that time, replaying it over and over, diagnosing it, trying to find the moment he could’ve changed to prevent it.
But the sad reality was that no one had the power to change that painful outcome.
Still, I was prepared to do everything possible to be by his side and drag him away from the path he knew so well.
Dorian carried that guilt for so long it became part of him.
I wasn’t stupid enough to think one conversation would make it disappear, but I also wasn’t going to stand by and watch him keep feeding it.
He had Aryna and me. And if he truly meant what he said about us becoming a family, then sooner or later, he would have to stop looking backward long enough to see what was right in front of him.
I cupped the mug of steamy coffee with my hands, leaning against the kitchen counter. Recalling our later conversation about opening the clinic and performing minor surgeries, I exhaled heavily.
How much effort he put into his public image was astonishing.
There was no mention of Caroline, the baby, or the tragic crash.
I knew because I spent half of the night searching the internet, but I found only one article about it.
There were no names, no photos, just the information that a kindergarten teacher died.
Malin erased her like she had never existed, while Dorian kept her with him for almost a decade.
This family's coping mechanism was surely extraordinary.
I shook my head at that thought, forcing my attention to the fridge. I had a six-year-old kid at home, and I could barely make coffee.
Cooking freaked me out because I’d seen our neighbor accidentally pour boiling water over herself. And the last thing I wanted was to destroy my perfect manicure with baking or whatever women did in the kitchen these days.
“We need a cook,” I mumbled under my breath, fishing out my phone.
I scrolled through the contacts, musing that maybe someone from my grandpa’s mansion could be a good choice to help me out.
He employed a couple of amazing chefs. But before I could dial the first number, a high-pitched scream reached my ears, and I almost jumped out of my skin.
“Mommy Ninaaaaa!” Aryna yelled from the upper floor. I ran to the living room like my ass was on fire when another “Mommy Ninaaaaaa” echoed through the open space.
“What?” I yelled, stopping under the stairs, watching her hop down.
“Oh.” She flashed me a wide grin. Her golden hair resembled a bird's nest, and she dragged her enormous teddy bear behind. “Here you are.”
“Yes, here I am,” I confirmed, my heart pounding. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing.” Her smile widened, coral-blue eyes glowing with mischief. “I just couldn’t find you.” She shrugged nonchalantly, hopping past me.
My mouth hung open as I followed her, glancing at my watch. It was five minutes after eight. Shaking my head at her antics, I grabbed my coffee, trying not to laugh while she fought with a huge chair.
“Need help?” I asked, casting a deadly glare at Dorian’s phone when Aryna shook her head.
It wouldn’t stop buzzing on the nightstand, so I took it with me so he could rest a little more after the emotionally exhausting night.
But when the name Stephanie flashed across the screen, my temper rose dangerously high.
Not only did I have to make peace with a dead woman whose memory haunted him, but apparently his life was full of living women too.
“I’m hungry,” Aryna disturbed my internal jealousy fit, pouting. “I want waffles.”
“I don’t cook, angel,” I said, turning the screen upside down. I should’ve probably woken him up if Stephanie needed him so badly, but there were enough doctors in New York, right? They’d manage.
“Every mommy cooks.” Aryna’s adorable little nose wrinkled as she stared at me.
“I told you, I’m not a mommy.” I set the mug aside. “And I surely don’t cook.”
“But I’m hungry.”
Exhaling deeply, I opened the fridge.
“We have a strawberry yogurt.” I took it out. “Okay with you?”
“No,” she grumbled. “But I don’t have a choice.” She snatched a spoon and yogurt from my hands, glancing at me as if I was personally responsible for the melting of icebergs.
“True.” I smiled at her scowl, grabbing Dorian’s phone.
It finally stopped buzzing; instead, a text message came.
I unlocked it with his code, grinning under my breath.
I noticed it a few days ago when he texted Malin, but I hadn’t used it yet.
Not that I wanted to spy on my husband. Not at all.
But a woman should know who her man was in contact with, right? Surely, he wouldn’t mind.
Stephanie: The scans of Mr. Johnson arrived. And Mrs. Johnson caused another scene, just like you said. I don’t know what to tell them. Please, call me back, sir.
Sir? She called him sir?
I read the text again just to be sure I understood it correctly when Aryna interrupted me.
“I’m still hungry,” she whined, rubbing her tummy. “You really don’t know how to be a mommy.” Her lips turned downright in a pout. “We need another mommy to show you.”
“And who would that be?” I raised a brow, unable to fight a smile at her expression when a loud ding startled me the second time this morning. Aryna’s eyes widened, and she jumped behind me so fast my brain barely registered it. Her tiny hands clutched my sweater as she stared into the living room.
“It’s just a doorbell,” I exhaled, brushing her hair. “We have a visitor.”
“Who?” she beeped, her gaze darting around as if she expected someone to jump out at her. Her behavior alerted all my instincts, and I made a mental note to ask Dorian about her background.
“Let’s look, okay?” I gently took her hand and led her into the entry hall. Another ding resonated through the whole house just as we reached the door, my head buzzing with the piercing sound.
Hastily, I grabbed the door handle and yanked the door open, my brows shooting up.
“Hello?” I said, glancing at Zyon, who resembled a man attending a state funeral.
In his black three-piece suit, with dark eyes scanning me like I was his mortal enemy, he gave me instant creeps.
Behind him, Zara bounced on her feet, her curly hair flying around her head and a wide smile almost splitting her face apart, while Valeria, elegant as always in her simple yellow dress, admired the flowers.
“Dorian?” Zyon asked without greeting, walking past me as if it were his house. I was so surprised to see them that I didn’t even stop him from invading my home.
“Sleeping,” I replied, glaring at his broad back, but my scowl evaporated when I saw how warmly Aryna and Zara hugged. Valeria smiled at them, approaching me with an apologetic expression.
“Sorry for the invasion,” she said, clutching her purse. “Zyon said you have some business to attend to and surely don’t have a nanny for the kid. So,” she shrugged, “here we are.”
“The Queen Zhumagulov is a nanny?” I laughed, realizing what had left my mouth only when it was out. Valeria lifted an elegant eyebrow.
“Do you have a better option, Princess Valentino?” she countered, her lips twitching slightly.
“No, not really,” I mumbled, walking into the living room where Dorian stood with his eyes glazed with sleep, messy hair, and a pillow imprinted on his cheek.
“Put some pants on,” Zyon commanded in his usual firm voice, fishing his phone out of his suit pocket. “We need to go.”
“I haven’t had breakfast,” Dorian objected, his frown deepening. “And coffee.”
Zyon lifted his eyes from the screen and flashed him a lethal glare.
“I’ll buy you an entire fucking menu after we deal with the Valentino fuck up!” he snarled. “Now, move your ass.”
“Zyon,” Valeria interjected before I could even open my mouth because his demanding behavior in my house raised my blood pressure. “The girls.”
He glanced at Zara and Aryna, but they were engrossed in something on Zara’s tablet and didn't care about adults.
“All good, mon c?ur.” He winked at her, but his attention stayed focused on a task. “Go, Dorian.” He nodded toward the stairs. “We don’t have time for this.”
“For what, actually?” I asked, the irritation seeping from my every pore. “He just woke up. And what gives you the right to just barge in here and boss us around?”
Dorian looked at me, amusement lighting his sleepy face, while Zyon glared.
“Do you want to see your father, Nina?” he barked, taking a step closer.
“I’ll see my father today, Zyon.” I matched his deadly tone. “Or you’ll have another person on your back to come for your throne.”
Valeria gasped beside me, and Dorian froze mid-step.
“Another one who fails?” Zyon countered, and a humorless laugh flew from my mouth.
“Fails?” I repeated like an insult. “I kidnapped your precious brother from under your nose and returned him only because it fit my plan.” That part wasn’t exactly true, but he didn’t know that. “What do you think…”
I registered his movement before he could reach into his jacket and pull out his gun. Too bad I, for some unknown reason, had mine with me, too. It was just an inexplicable itch to take it with me when I left bed and turned out to be useful.
In a split second, we aimed at each other, and the atmosphere tensed so rapidly, it could be cut with a knife.
“Oh, God!” Valeria yelled, running to the girls. I swallowed hard when I realized what we were doing right before the kids, but I had no choice but to set the rules straight from the beginning.
“You won’t bully me in my house, Zyon!” I raised my voice and pointed at his chest. “Go threaten someone else!”
Dorian stood on the side with his arms lifted. His surprised face would’ve been hilarious if Zyon wasn’t aiming at me.
“I’m here to save your pathetic ass,” he ground out, watching Valeria out of the corner of his eye as she led the girls away.
“By commanding my husband in his fucking house?” I retorted, black dots clouding my vision. This was unacceptable. Every mafia family had their own rules, but this was outrageous.
“It’s okay,” Dorian said gently, his finger touching my hand. “Nina, it’s okay. It’s his love language.”
“You agree with it?” Pure disbelief dripped from my tongue.
“I don’t mind it,” he admitted, gently pushing my hand with a gun down. “But he won’t do it again if you don’t like it.” He turned to his brother. “Right?”
Zyon’s eyes narrowed at him.
“Right, Zyon?” Dorian repeated, punching him in the shoulder.
“Fine,” he mumbled, hiding the gun away. “But next time, be ready on time.”
“Next time,” Dorian said, grabbing the lapels of his suit jacket and catching him completely by surprise. “Point a gun at my wife again, and I’ll rip your throat out with my fucking teeth.” He pushed him away, turning to the stairs without another look.
Zyon glanced at him, his shocked expression matching mine.
Clearly, I wasn’t the only protective one under this roof.