Chapter 41
ANASTASIA
I wake up to an empty bed. The spot next to me cold.
I hate waking up alone.
You know, abandonment issues and all.
I roll over to get out of bed and notice a note on the side table.
Moya Vorona, I have a few errands to run,
I’ll be back soon
Please get some breakfast
I take a moment to study his note, and I notice how familiar the handwriting looks. How it perfectly matches all the notes I’ve found attached to snacks and other things sitting outside my door all these weeks. Eryx was behind all of it. I make a mental note to thank him for everything later.
I throw my hair in a bun, slip into some shorts, and make my way out of the room.
I need a very strong cup of coffee. When I get in the kitchen, Iris is humming along to some song.
Hips swaying as she prepares something on the stove.
I’m reminded of Caine, and now I definitely see it, where he gets his personality.
He had told me how he’d been raised by them.
She must sense me coming, without even turning around she says, “Take a seat dear, foods almost ready. There’s a coffee on the table with your name on it.”
I take a seat at the table and take the cup in my hands.
It’s prepared perfectly; two cream, three sugar.
There’s also a fresh bouquet of flowers displayed in the middle of the table.
Peonies. How did he…? She catches me starring as she brings me a plate.
“Arrived this morning,” she says with a warm smile on her face.
“Thank you for the food ma’am.”
She swats me away, “Please, call me Iris.”
“Thank you—Iris,” I correct myself.
She smiles and sips from her own coffee. “Now, how are you sweet?” She asks. “I know my son can be a—”
“A handful?” I finish playfully.
“Yes.” We both laugh.
This feel so natural. Being here with her, drinking our coffee, eating breakfast, just gossiping away about Eryx.
I could get used to this. And I hate it, cause I would just be waiting for the next shoe to drop.
I’m not allowed to be happy. The universe has made that very clear by always taking everyone I care about. Anyone I love.
“My son,” she continues, “he is stubborn, and hard headed, yes. But that boy, that man, he’s a good one.
” She places her hand on mine. “He’s seen a lot and from too young an age.
Seen more than one should. He’s not perfect, he’s made mistakes I’m sure he regrets, and he will make more in the future.
It’s only human nature. But give him grace.
” She pauses for a moment. “Whenever you start to doubt him, I just ask that you give him the chance to explain. I see the way he looks at you. He is a boy smitten, and so far gone for you my love.” She says that last part as if she’s in on some secret I know not about.
“I can see it in your eyes too. You’re both so much more alike than you think.” She gets up to clear our plates but I stop her, “Please, let me.” And surprisingly she lets me.
“Eryx mentioned you’d not be leaving until tomorrow. That leaves us a whole day. Come with me. I’m going out.”
“You want me to go with you?” The words tumble out before I can soften them. She tilts her head, amused, “Yes, with me.” She gives me a look like it’s not up for debate. “I need fresh herbs and flour, and I could use some company. Unless you have other plans?”
I hesitate, but the corners of her mouth tilt knowingly. She sees straight through me. Sees the restless stillness, the way I’m too afraid of my own thoughts. “Alright,” I murmur.
“Good,” she doesn’t leave room for protest. “Now go get dressed and I’ll meet you here in ten.”
The cold hits me like a slap when we step outside, sharp enough to steal the air from my lungs.
I tuck deeper into the scarf she gave me, following Iris as she strides ahead and gets into the waiting car.
We’re dropped off at the edge of the market.
The air is rich with the scents of fresh bread, smoked fish, and cinnamon tea steaming from samovars.
Vendors call out prices in brisk Russian, and Iris answers back with ease, her words flowing like water.
I keep close, clutching the basket she’s handed me.
I feel like a child trailing her mother.
“Try this,” Iris says suddenly, handing me a small paper cup of hot Sbiten, sweet and spiced.
“It’ll warm you.” The honeyed drink seeps down my throat, thawing something knotted inside me.
My chest tightens, not from the cold, but from the way she presses the cup into my hands like it matters that I’m warm.
My mother used to do things like that. Always thinking ahead for me, always knowing.
Iris steers us to a stall overflowing with fresh herbs. “Eryx insists I make his favorite dish when he comes home. He’ll pout otherwise.” Her smile is amused, indulgent.
I let out a breath of laughter I didn’t know I was holding. “He still pouts.”
“Oh, I know,” she says, choosing basil. “He gets that from me.” She glances at me then, sly, and I can’t help the small smile tugging at my lips. Somehow, she makes me feel like part of an inside joke I was never supposed to hear.
We buy more than I think we need—vegetables, cheese, three bags of flour Iris swears are essential—and by the time we return, the basket weighs heavy on my arm.
The warmth of the kitchen is overwhelming after the bitter wind outside. Iris wastes no time, setting the groceries down, sleeves rolled up as though she’s been waiting all day for this moment. “Well,” she prompts. “You’re not getting away with just watching. Come here.”
I shuffle closer. She hands me an onion and a knife, demonstrating how to curl my fingers, how to slice without cutting myself. My eyes sting almost immediately, tears streaming down my cheeks. I laugh nervously, swiping at them.
“You’ll get used to it,” Iris says with the certainty of someone who knows I will. Her hands guide mine briefly, steady and sure. My throat tightens at the simple act of being taught. I can see why the guys love cooking so much. They’re such a perfect reflection of the woman who raised them.
While I chop clumsily, she stirs a pot, the smell filling the room. “This was always his comfort food,” she says. “Whenever life got heavy, Eryx would sit in the kitchen until I made it. He won’t admit it, but food still softens him more than anything else.”
I think of him, his sharp edges, the way he hides behind arrogance, and I picture him younger, sulking with his chin propped on his hands while his mother cooked.
The image makes me smile without meaning to.
When the sauce simmers, Iris pulls out sugar and butter.
“Caine has been pestering me for cookies. If we don’t bake them, he’ll sulk too.
And believe me, one son sulking is enough. ”
Before I know it, flour dusts my hands, my sweater, the counter.
My first batch burns, the smoke curling from the oven, and panic prickles at me, but Iris just laughs, waving her hand through the haze.
“Perfect excuse to try again,” she says, scooping dough onto her finger and holding it out.
“Besides, the dough is better than the cookies anyway.” Her laughter rings like something I used to know. Something I miss.
By the time the kitchen smells of butter and herbs, cookies cooling on the counter, and Eryx’s favorite meal—Beef Stroganoff—warming on the stove, I feel… lighter. As though some invisible weight has slipped from my shoulders.
I catch Iris watching me, her eyes soft in a way that makes my chest ache. “See?” she says, voice gentle. “You belong here. Don’t forget that.” I almost believe her. Almost believe my mother would’ve smiled at this, too.
Just as we finish cleaning up the kitchen, the front door opens, then closes. Eryx strides through the front. I can see blood on his hands. He doesn’t stop however, just pushes through until he’s out of sight. Presumingly going to the room to clean up.
“Don’t you worry,” she rubs my back, “it’s hard at first, but you’ll get used to it.”
He comes back moments later, smile on his face, as if nothing has happened. “Wow, something smells amazing Ma.” He wraps his arms around me from behind, dropping his head on my shoulders and kissing my neck. Enveloping me in my favorite scent.
“How’s my favorite girl doing, huh?” He whispers in my ear.
I lean into him. To his touch. He makes me feel so safe, so seen. I could really get used this. I want to. But I’m also so terrified, that at any moment all of this could be ripped away from me. “Missed you today,” I tell him.
“Oh yeah, is that so?” He spins me around, puts his hands around my waist, and pulls me closer. One hand goes to my cheek as he brings me in for a kiss. Soft and sensual.
“Thank you,” I tell him. My eyes on him.
“For kissing you?”
“For the flowers, and all the snacks and notes. I know it was you.” I smile up at him.
“You don’t have to thank me Vorona. It’s the least I could do. You deserve everything and more.” He leans in for another kiss.
“It’s everything.” I burry my nose in his neck taking in his comforting scent.
Iris breaks us up with a short cough. “Alright, my lovebirds, dinner is ready. Why don’t you set the plates down for us?” She says to Eryx.
I quite admire her, even with the family she married into.
The life she lives, she still finds the time for home cooked meals and time spent with her family when she can.
Eryx explained that while his father demanded guards to be at the house and take her to and from places, his mom never wanted help around the house, she refused to hire maids and cooks.
She wanted to keep some sort of normalcy with her new reality.
Wanted them to know what a loving home was like and always feel the same love she felt when she was growing up.
Eryx sets the table and the three of us sit to eat.
“You always make my favorite Ma.” He fills my plate, then his.
“I can’t take all the credit my dear. Anastasia did most of the work.” She winks at me.
I take a few bites, and I can see why he loves it so much. It’s like being enveloped in a warm hug. His hand graces my thigh under the table, and I feel my cheeks flush.
“Is that right?” He squeezes my leg.
“Mhmm, we even made some cookies. But you can’t eat them all, you promised Caine we’d take some for him.”
“We’ll see about that.” He smirks.
The food was delicious and after Eryx and I cleaned up the kitchen—which took some convincing before Iris agreed—we’re back in his room, wrapped up in his bed.
“Thank you for today,” I tell him. “It was really nice spending time with your mom, she’s really lovely. Very welcoming.”
He brings me in closer to him. “Yeah, she’s very much like that.
She knows how to make you feel included.
Make you feel like part of the family.” His hand goes to play with my hair.
“Thank you for being with her today. After my sister—well, she doesn’t get to do this as much anymore.
I know she appreciated it as much as you did. ”
I draw circles on his chest, tracing the outlines of his tattoos. “Do you want to talk about what happened?”
“Just family business, nothing I ever want you to worry about.” He kisses my forehead. “I have a fight coming up, I know they aren’t your favorite, but I was hoping you’d come. It’ll be my last one.”
That makes me pause, “Your last one?”
He’s staring up at the ceiling as he speaks. “Yeah, told Caine and Roman I’m done after this one. No more fights. I’ll be there when they need me for the family, but no more ring.” He turns to me now, “I want this, us, you. You’re what matters to me.”
“Will they be ok with that?”
“They’ll learn to be. They know how much you matter to me.”
Everything feels perfect laying here with him, but nothing good ever lasts.
Ping. My phone chimes with an incoming text.
El Diablo
How’s Moscow? I hear it’s nice this time of year.
Ya vas a ver Anastasia.
Sigue jugando conmigo, verás lo que pasa.
Veo todo.
Eryx doesn’t ask this time. He just takes the phone from me.
Me
If you contact this phone again. If you contact her. I will fucking kill you.
El Diablo
Hello Eryx.
See you soon.
His arms wrap around me, holding me close to his chest. He knows it’s what I need. His face in my hair, “I won’t let him get any where near you. I won’t let anyone get near you. I’ll always protect you.”