Page 53 of The Bratva King

Irina materializes from wherever she’d been lurking and produces two bowls, two spoons, and a carton of milk. She sets them on the small table in the breakfast nook.

Luke follows Nikolai. Irina turns and catches me watching. We hold eye contact for a few seconds before she walks away.

Nikolai gestures for Luke to take a seat. He sets his blanket on the other chair and waits. Nikolai opens the box, fills their bowls, and then adds milk. All of it happens without a word.

I stay by the counter and watch.

They eat in silence. Luke’s legs swing slowly back and forth while he eats. He’s looking into the bowl. Nikolai reads something on his phone with one hand and eats with the other.

It’s the most comfortable silence I’ve witnessed between my son and another human being. Luke doesn’t do comfortable silences with people.

He’s present. He’s aware of Nikolai sitting with him.

And he’s fine.

Luke finishes before Nikolai does. He carries his bowl to the sink without being asked. I taught him that. It makes me proud to see his good manners.

“Come,” Galina says to Luke.

“I’ll get him dressed,” I say.

“Eat.” She waves her hand.

I want to argue, but Luke is already walking out of the kitchen with her. And I need to talk to Nikolai.

But do I dare interrupt his cereal?

He finishes his bowl, sets it aside, and puts his phone face down on the table. He looks at me directly then. Under his gaze, I feel… squirmy.

Not in a bad way. Nikolai’s gaze confuses me. I haven’t felt desire for a man in… well, ever. I never got the chance to have a crush.

“You’re staying,” he says.

I blink. “What?”

“You’re staying. You’ll live here.”

“No, I won’t.”

“Don’t be stubborn. This is what’s best for you and your son. I have the room. Luke likes it here.”

“I don’t want to be a burden. And I don’t accept help that comes with strings attached. I learned what that costs a long time ago.”

“I’m not collecting a debt,” he says.

“Then what are you doing?”

“You have nowhere else to go. Luke needs stability.” He pauses. “I have a ten-bedroom house and a staff that has nothing to do.”

I look at the ceiling, then back at him. “You can’t just tell people they’re staying in your house.”

“I just did.”

“That’s not how this works.”

“How does it work?”

I don’t have a good answer for him. I hate that my options are so limited that a man who randomly punches people is somehow my best one.