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We sat there for what felt like hours, simply holding each other.
“Where is my mom?” I whispered, breaking the heavy silence.
He took a deep breath. “She’s somewhere secure until Igor comes back.”
I swallowed hard. “Is she okay?”
He paused briefly. “She’s safe. Don’t worry, no one will harm her.”
Thank God.
I felt a wave of relief wash over me.
“How did you learn English?” I asked, trying to shift the conversation away from the weighty topics. His English was flawless, except for his thick accent when he was upset.
“I’m a quick learner,” he said, pressing a soft kiss to my temple. “Igor needed me to talk to foreign suppliers, so he got me a tutor when I was sixteen. Two years later, I was fluent.”
“A female tutor?” I asked, curious.
He let out a laugh. “Nyet, Igor wanted me focused. No distractions.”
As we soaked in the tub, his fingers traced idle circles around my nipple, and I hummed softly while running my hand up and down his muscular thigh beneath the water.
“What did you do today?” I turned to face him, our eyes meeting as he brushed his lips against mine. The moment felt oddly domestic, almost surreal. I couldn't help but let my guard down.
“Why? Jealous I’m not spending all my time with you?” he teased, his fingers lazily tracing circles on my lower belly.
“I’m just curious,” I admitted with a blush, his lips still lingering near mine. “And now, your business is my business.”
He chuckled softly, pulling back slightly. “Is that so?”
I nodded, a small smile forming on my cheeks.
He leaned in to give me a quick kiss. “I tracked down Vlad today.”
My heart skipped at the thought of seeing him after all these years. Yet, deep down, unease settled in, knowing he wasn’t a good person.
“Have you found him?” I asked, my voice trembling.
“Not yet. But I’m close.” A shiver of fear ran through me at the intensity in his eyes. Sensing my unease, he nuzzled his nose against mine and kissed me gently.
“So, you were sixteen when you first met Igor?”
“Da,” he replied softly, burying his face in my neck and inhaling deeply. “He saved my life,” he continued, his arms tightening around my waist. whispered, “Do you have siblings? Parents?”
“Nyet. No siblings. My mother died during childbirth and my father…” He paused, and his sorrow was palpable. “Well, when I was thirteen, my father and I were leaving his bakery after closing. I was holding a loaf of bread he had just baked, and he was talking about how one day we'd go to Paris for French pastries. Suddenly, a man held us at gunpoint. I dropped the bread, and my father yelled for me to stay still. The man forced us back into the bakery, demanding money and food.”
I held my breath, preparing for the worse.
“My father told me to run when he gave the signal. I was confused but took off when he shouted ‘NOW!’ But when I heard gunshots, I froze. I ran back to find my father on the floor, shot in the throat. The man who tried to rob us was dead, shot in the head. My father’s last words were, ‘I love you, my son.’”
Tears streamed down my face as I listened, my heart breaking for him. “I’m so sorry,” I murmured.
He sighed. "Spasibo. Igor found me on the streets, begging for money, a few months later. He took me in, and the rest’s history."
Jesus, I can only imagine the pain he must have felt watching his father die right in front of him.
“We have something in common; I don’t have siblings either,” I said softly, changing subject again. His laughter, though tinged with sadness, warmed my heart. “But you already knew that, didn’t you? You’ve done your homework on me.”
