Chapter 16 Ivan
IVAN
I follow in Milana’s footsteps, giving her space to cool off and go to her own quarters on the first floor, before I head to my side of the house, looking for my girls. My blood pressure still spikes every time I don’t know exactly where they are, with whom, and whether they’re safe.
With Darya’s death, there’s been a shift.
The vorovskoy zakon—the thieves’ law and our code of conduct—has shifted.
Maybe I’m to blame, but family is no longer sacred.
Wives and children were never to be touched, but with the coup, I’ve learned the hard way that anything goes.
Chertnikov made it clear this is no longer the old Pakhan’s Bratva. Adapt or die.
As I head toward my room, since this is where we’ve been nesting for the past few months, voices sound down the corridor: calm, happy, at ease.
I slow down, padding over quietly, listening.
A fairy tale. Six princes. A tale of courage and valor as they fight a dragon for keys to unlock a princess from her tower.
I wait and listen until we’re at prince number six when the girls’ comments make me impatient to see what they’re looking at.
I stop in the door, staring at the picture-perfect scene. Gabriella becomes aware of me first where she’s sitting on the smaller of the two sofas, a book on her lap, Irisha on her one side, Katya on the other. The girls are totally engrossed in whatever she’s reading to them.
My heart stills.
Gabriella smiles at me, and it’s somewhat shy, questioning, and for the first time in a very long time, I exhale in relief. My girls look…happy. Here is finally a moment of peace.
Irisha looks up, radiant. “Papa! Come see! Gabi made this book. She painted the pictures.”
“Really?”
As I stroll over, I give the suite a once-over. A troop of fairies must have passed through here, because the space looks, in my books, spotless. Irisha scoots to make place for me as she holds out her little hand and pulls me to sit down next to Gabriella.
I ease into the tiny space. I pick Irisha up and settle her on my thigh, inching away, but she reaches for Gabriella’s arm, anchoring us in place.
Too close.
“Show Papa the dragon,” she urges as she leans into Gabriella.
“Yes, the dragon!” Katya echoes.
I wrap my arm around Irisha’s waist, hugging her to my chest. My arm grazes Gabriella’s as her knee knocks against my thigh.
I try not to manspread, but with Irisha’s short legs dangling between mine, there isn’t much I can do.
I lean back, soaking in the moment that arrived so naturally.
This is my goal, so I shouldn’t shy away from it for Gabriella’s sake.
“You really drew and painted this?” I ask as she turns a few pages.
When I look at her, the blush that invaded her cheeks as I sat down deepens. This one…she seems really inexperienced. She’s clearly not used to having men around, never mind this close. Growing up in a convent would do that to you.
“I studied art and calligraphy as part of my schooling,” she says as she turns to a double-page spread of a dragon that looks both menacing and so beautiful, as if the Devil grew scales that sparkle like diamonds.
It’s mesmerizing with gold and silver lines done in the minutest detail, and slivers of emerald green blended in so well, it’s pure magic.
“It must have taken ages. What’s the story about?” I ask.
“It’s Gabi’s,” Katya says. “’Bout her brothers. They’re called princes.”
“Wow. That’s cool.”
Gabriella turns the page. “I’m not sure if you know my story? You’re welcome to stay and listen.”
She bites her lip to hide a smile, probably thinking I’m too busy to stick around for this, but ever since my daughters were born, these are the moments I live for.
Growing up, I had privilege aplenty, but I never allowed myself the idea of having a family like this, and Darya proved me right.
Now Gabriella is here, a calm presence in the eye of the storm.
It’s too early in my little game to imagine this is how it’s going to work out, but a man could hope and dream a little.
“No, to be honest, your existence has been a very—and by that, I mean a very—well-kept secret.”
The old Pakhan had his spies everywhere, and despite agreements in place, he didn’t give an inch when it came to our northern neighbors. That the birth of a ‘stillborn’ daughter slipped under Papa’s radar just goes to show how careful Don Scalera was when Gabriella was born.
“You missed most of the story,” she says. “We’re right at the end.”
She’s pushing back, probably not wanting to keep me.
Wanting distance between my body and hers.
It’s never too early to start. She needs to get used to me being around.
I’m a hands-on dad, too—the sooner she understands this, the better.
I relax deeper into the sofa and lift my arm to settle it on the backrest, basically cocooning yet not touching anywhere but where our legs connect, somewhat disguised by Irisha and her limbs.
“The ending is the best part, isn’t it?” I tease as discomfort radiates from her.
She’s affected by my presence, and it stirs something in me that seems to wake up from hibernation. The need to touch a woman. To see how she reacts. Doing things to her that would make her squirm and fist bedsheets in pure pleasure.
I haven’t slept with someone in ages; Darya was the last. I’ve had plenty of opportunity to seek out female company, but it’s just weird with Irisha and Katya around, compounded with the shit that’s been happening.
I can’t reconcile myself with finding a random hookup just to satisfy baser needs.
Ten years ago, I wouldn’t have thought twice.
Now I practically flinch at the idea of fucking a random woman whose body count exceeds mine.
If this is what it means to be a grown-up, nobody warned me about this part.
“Well, this isn’t exactly the ending. It feels more like my beginning,” Gabriella says with a small shrug, and her hair glides over my arm where her ponytail brushes against me.
So freaking soft. Her scent is gentle, too. No heavy perfumes but just a sweetness that seems to radiate from her like it’s her whole freaking personality.
“A new book, not just a new chapter,” I say. For both of us.
“Probably. A second chance.”
“How does this one end?” I ask, wanting to keep her engaged and the girls just as they are now. Happy, cared for, safe.
“Together, the princes conquer and kill the dragon and free the princess from the tower.”
For a fairy tale, there’s nothing new there. “And what do you think will happen in the next book? Since this one is done?”
She’s here now, trapped, as trapped as Milana, only she doesn’t realize it yet. My little bird, my moya ptichka, hopped into the cage all by herself.
“Oh, that’s easy,” Irisha quips. “The princess saves herself.”
Gabriella breaks out in a laugh, and I chuckle as I shove my hands underneath those little armpits and lift my eldest into the air. “It that so? That’s Papa’s girl. You go for it, malyshka.”
I might need sons and that’s still my primary focus when it comes to my family, but in our new world, my princesses won’t be locked up in towers. They will know how to fend for themselves.
“Even better,” I say. “She’ll become a dragon herself, protecting her own treasures.”