Chapter 20 #2
Rafail’s warm, firm hand on my thigh sends a shiver down my spine, somehow both approval and a warning to behave. I half flirt with the idea of pushing, just to see what he’ll do, but the memory of this morning’s still fresh in my mind.
So, while they talk about business and football and the American version of vodka, which they all seem to despise, I talk with Zoya about which dress she should wear to her upcoming semi-formal.
“Have you asked your brother about that yet?” I whisper to her.
“Oh no,” she says with a little smile that’s part grimace. “I was, uh, sort of hoping you would.”
I nod. “Of course I will.” When he’s drunk on sex and half-asleep, I think.
I don’t have to remind myself that I’m in the presence of criminals. That my husband runs a powerful empire, but that none of these people here, not one, not even sweet little Zoya, is innocent.
The way Rafail constantly scans the room, continually vigilant. The glint of metal on Semyon’s hip when he stands to welcome another cousin and aunt. The waitstaff’s furtive glances and rush to immediately make sure the food is served promptly and our glasses are constantly filled.
Uncle Eduard smiles at me as he helps himself to yet another glass of wine.
“You’ve married right into a ready family, Anissa,” he says while Rafail is busy talking to Gleb and Matvei.
“He’s been a father to these hoodlums for years now.
Should make it easy to start a family of your own, you think? ”
I blink, startled at the directness of his comment. “Well, when the time is right,” I say with a shrug, though my heart races at the thought. “And even though he’s their older brother, it seems—”
Matvei cuts in with a grin. “Seems he’s already had plenty of practice raising a family, huh?”
Rafail gives a half-hearted smile, but when I look at him, he winks at me. My tummy flips.
“Rafail is too humble to tell you, but he was on his way to college when… when the accident happened,” his grandfather says. “I bought him a suitcase, and he was ready.” His voice grows softer. “Ready to fly away, weren’t you, son?”
I look at Rafail in surprise. For some reason, it never occurred to me that he’d ever wanted anything more than what he has, right here, with his family.
“My flight was supposed to leave that night,” Rafail says, a note of wistfulness in his voice. “When I got the call.”
My heart hurts for the man he had to become so quickly, so unexpectedly. “And you had to cancel everything?”
“Of course,” he says with a smirk. “It took every second of my time keeping these hoodlums in line.”
Semyon snorts, and their grandfather shakes his head, his worn, leathery face all creases as he smiles. “If that isn’t the understatement of the year. I tried to help, but I couldn’t keep up with them. There was a time they were wild, and my days of reining in terrors were past.”
Matvei snorts and shakes his head. “Jesus, do you remember that time Rodion decided to ‘borrow’ Rafail’s car for a joyride? What were we, sixteen?”
Rodion’s smile is a little pained as he rubs the back of his neck and gives Rafail a sheepish smile.
“I remember it well,” Rafail says with a pointed look. He doesn’t appear quite as amused as the rest of them, but even his serious eyes spark with a hint of humor.
“We were fourteen,” Rodion admits, shaking his head. “And we had fun, didn’t we? Until, uh… until Rafail caught us.”
Rafail growls next to me. “Yeah, nearly driving yourself straight into a river sounds like excellent fun.”
“Oof,” I say with a grimace. “You two! Did you really?”
“Oh,” Rafail says, shaking his head. “They did. Once, anyway.”
“You got that right,” Matvei says, his eyes bright with laughter. “He dragged us out of that car so fast, my head was spinning. And the look on his face? I thought he was going to kill us right there.”
“I thought about it,” Rafail says dryly, making everyone laugh.
“No, instead of killing us, he made sure we wished we were dead,” Rodion adds with a grin. “Good enough, right?”
Matvei shakes his head. “Yeah, that was kind of a turning point, I think. Didn’t pull that shit again.”
My chest tightens as I take in their words. The man who had dreams and hopes beyond the city of Moscow and the confines of family had to give it all up. He had to step into the role of protector, laying aside what he wanted to keep what he already had.
Right then, I feel the weight of responsibility alongside him. I want to help him shoulder it. He might be grumpy and intense and so bossy it sometimes makes me want to scream, but I feel it—an undeniable pull to the boy he left behind.
I want to give him back some of the freedom he surrendered.
I reach for his hand and give it a squeeze. In response, he nestles my one hand in both of his as the waitstaff clears our dishes and brings out large platters of dessert plates with shimmering pudding and layered cake.
“Ooooh,” Zoya says, her eyes dancing. “Their chocolate cake is epic, Anissa.”
I nod along with her. “I might not remember everything, but I can say with absolute certainty that I love chocolate cake.”
Suddenly, another memory surfaces, like a snapshot from another life I once lived. Honest to god, if I didn’t believe in reincarnation before this, I sure as hell do now.
My brothers—I remember a few names now.
Mikhail. Viktor. Lev.
My heart aches.
Their laughter echoes around me as I reach for a slice of chocolate layer cake. My mother, her gentle smile lighting up her wrinkled face, cuts me a piece and tugs my hair. “Had them make your favorite,” she says, leaning in to kiss my cheek. “Happy birthday, sweetheart.”
I blink, and the memory slips away like a fading dream.
“Anissa?” Zoya looks at me with concern. “Would you like a piece?”
I nod, not trusting my voice. If I talk, I’m going to cry. Rafail’s intense gaze sweeps over mine. Wordlessly, he brushes a thumb across the top of my hand. Reassuring me. Leaning in, his breath is hot at my ear. “Do we need to go?”
I swallow the lump in my throat and force a smile. “Not until I have that cake, please.”
A commotion sounds out the window, and like they did at home, in the kitchen, every damn one of them comes to immediate attention.
Rodion is the first to get up, pushing away from the table so fast his chair hits the floor.
I stare, my fork suspended over the cake, as Rafail snaps into commander mode.
Even his uncle and grandfather look immediately to him.
“Semyon, guard the door. Matvei, go with Rodion. Gleb, you stay here. Yana, scan the outer perimeter on surveillance and see what the fuck is going on out there.”
As everyone runs to obey, he leans in close to me and slides an index finger under my chin, bringing my eyes to his. “You do exactly what I say.”
I nod, both terrified of whatever’s happening and confident he’ll take care of me. Of all of us.
“Could be anything,” his grandfather says to me, leaning in to take a sip of his coffee.
“Someone cut someone else off. They had heated words. Some idiot hit another guy for flirting with his girl. People do dumb things all the time.” He doesn’t need to supply the rest of his sentence because I already know.
They don’t have the luxury of assumptions.
And yet… this all feels familiar, just like it did before.
The shift from lighthearted memories to being on guard, ready to protect each other, doesn’t exactly catch me off guard.
It’s second nature now and hints at a past I can’t remember in detail, but one that’s not very dissimilar to the present.
Yana speaks first. “They’re here for us, Rafail.” She’s on her feet, her phone in her hand. “The Popov family is here for you.” Her eyes go straight to his. “And they’re looking for you.”