Page 77 of The Bratva King

This is Nikolai’s car, which means it’s more likely that one of his women left it. I’ve never seen him with a woman, but a man who looks the way he does and lives the way he lives probably has a roster of them.

Some woman left him a flower. Maybe it’s a code. Meet me at my place.

I drop it on the concrete and step on it. I grind it once for good measure and leave it there.

The rose means nothing.

The house is quiet when I come through the front door. I reset the alarm the way Nikolai showed me. I stand in the foyer for a moment and listen.

Nothing. No cartoons. No small footsteps.

Luke is in bed. I feel a combination of relief and disappointment that only a working mother understands. Relief because he needs his sleep and routine is sacred. Disappointment because I want to see his face. I want to press my nose into his hair and ask how his day was.

I missed bedtime.

I set my purse on the entry table and freeze.

“What the hell?” I step forward and touch the dinosaur. It isn’t a stuffed toy, but some kind of action figure. A very large, hideous one.

Nikolai bought my son a dinosaur.

It’s very him. His generosity looks different. He doesn’t ask for thanks or even care if you notice. He sees a need and handles it.

I walk into the kitchen and stop when I see Nikolai.

He’s at the island with a glass of something dark. He looks up when I walk in.

“Hey,” I say.

“Hey.”

I drop onto a stool at the island and resist the urge to put my head down on the cold marble.

I keep my eyes on the countertop, tracing one of the veins with my fingertip. “I didn’t realize you’d be up.”

“It’s early.”

“There’s a dinosaur in the foyer.”

“Luke told me before bed that it’s not historically accurate. It goes into the donation pile tomorrow.”

“You gave it to him?”

“I had it delivered.”

“Don’t give it away. Thank you for doing that. It was very sweet.”

He says nothing, which I expected.

“Kylie said you had him. I’m sorry. I thought she would stay. I didn’t expect you to watch him.”

“Don’t apologize.”

“You didn’t sign up to babysit.”

He looks at me. “I sent her home.”

“Why?”