Chapter 26 Vassili
VASSILI
April
Victory Day in Red Square, Moscow
Earlier, tanks had thundered by. A reminder to the world who always held a spine of steel.
The spires of Saint Basil’s burned in the sun like a blessing and a warning as pride swelled a fire in my chest. My world had flanked me: Zariah to my right.
Natasha to my left. Vassilievich, beside her, was silent for once.
Now, we’d returned to the estate in Rublyovka. Our home away from home—no, our fortress—stood tall behind us, windows glowing in the night.
Fireworks cracked above the lake, bright enough to reflect the dark water and Zariah’s glossy, straight hair as she lay curled in my arms, half asleep.
I started to carry her inside when Natasha settled closer to the lake. My little girl—my firebrand—tucked her legs beneath her on the wicker sofa. Her Shadow sat too close. Her head rested on his shoulder.
Nyet. I didn’t pay him for that.
With a sigh, I set Zariah onto the cushions and tucked the throw blanket to her chin. She didn’t stir. I grabbed the vodka and two shot glasses, then made my way across the lawn.
“Borya, why is the baseball season so long?” Her voice floated toward me, soft and curious. On her phone, highlights from the Dodgers’ earlier game flashed across her tan face.
“I don’t know.” Borya rubbed her shoulder.
I reached him before he could process what was coming. Took his wrist in mine—firm, cold—and squeezed enough to remind him whose name he should fear. Panic flickered in his eyes.
“Go.” As I ordered the one-word directive, Natasha pressed the Off button.
Borya didn’t argue. He just vanished.
“Tell me again why we brought him on vacation?”
Natasha exhaled a laugh. “Pop, you called him my Shadow. Now he follows me everywhere. Which do you prefer?”
Ignoring the retort, I sat beside her. I suppose having Borya around beat that other guy who stumbled into my gym. What was his name? I’d never responded after Yuri gave me a rundown of his entire life. Didn’t matter now.
I gestured to Natasha’s phone. “You’re not over him?”
Her lips curved. “Never. I eventually listened to his texts and voicemails. You can hear the truth in his voice. I’ll pull one up.”
“Nyet.” I pulled an arm around her, felt her lean in. My daughter, the one who used to wear pink princess dresses and demand chocolate in every country we visited.
“Well, don’t say I didn’t offer, Papa KGB.
Anyway, we decided to let him focus on his career this year.
As you know, Pop, the Dodgers won back-to-back World Series, and now the managers are hounding them for a three-peat.
Y’know. Like the Lakers.” She shook her head.
“For the record, I never believed he cheated.”
Her voice cracked, just a hair, and my steel facade crumbled. “Okay, okay. I didn’t either. I analyzed the photos for hours. Besides, he’s alive, isn’t he?”
Natasha shoulder-checked me, laugh fluttering from her lips. “Pop! What did you have against your favorite baseball player?”
“I don’t even like bas—” I caught myself. “Alright. I didn’t hate him. Not really.”
She side-eyed me like her momma would. “It’s because you didn’t make Momma yours before she went to law school. You’d just met her and you nearly blew it.”
True. “What did Zariah tell you?”
“That she cornered you at the gym.”
“Not the gym. Vadim’s Gym. You respect that man, he should’ve been your dedushka.”
“Okay, she cornered you at Grandpa Vadim’s Gym. You threatened her. Then, after you all stopped arguing, you told her she was beautiful in a mirror—”
“She told you what?” I roared.
Natasha pulled back, grimacing. “What the heck? That’s why she always blushes when mentioning the mirror. Ewww. Forget I said anything. I’m gonna puke.”
“Me too!”
“She didn’t tell me … ugh …” Natasha gagged. “She just said you called her pretty as you gazed at her in the mirror. That’s all! Way to give me nightmares.”
A little more than that, but I steered this conversation to safer waters. “The Mikhailovs stopped by earlier. Their invitation to Arabia still stands.”
“Edik isn’t waiting around for me.” She shook her head.
“He’ll wait. If not, someone else will. You’re young. Don’t date athletes. They always choose the game.”
“I told Lachlan to choose the game.”
I studied her. “He tried to juggle both.” Extremely smart since my daughter was worth it. Also, extremely stupid.
She nodded. “In the beginning. Ugh, the schedule’s insane.
Baseball plays one hundred and sixty-two games.
That’s double the NBA. I won’t even factor in football.
But we broke up after the incident, so he can focus.
He calls me every night before I go to sleep, whether I’m here or in LA.
Whether the Dodgers dominated the Angels or choked while playing the Giants.
I’m not sharing this to suggest Lachlan’s flawless, nor to thank you for sparing him.
” With her head in her hands, she mumbled something unintelligible.
“Why aren’t you with him now, Natasha?” My voice dropped low. Not angry, just exhausted from the division between blood. I pushed hard. Anatoly pushed. Damn right. Pushed me and Mama to the point of daydreaming of his death.
After a moment, Natasha exhaled.
“And don’t give me some bull about baseball either, Natasha.”
She didn’t answer.
She didn’t have to.
I already knew.
She loved Lachlan MacKenzie. Enough to let him go.
Did that make her stronger than us all? Even her mom. Would’ve gutted my pride if she hadn’t waited for me. Zariah had. But I’d done her wrong. Made no promises in word or action. So, did this grand sacrifice make Natasha stronger than us? Or more broken?