Page 57 of Dark King Daddy

I imagined marrying Daniil. Not a wedding. Not a dress. The door closing afterward.

His home. His rules. His authority entering every room before he did.

I had wanted him for years from a safe distance. Distance made desire private. Harmless.

Marriage would place me inside the reach of the thing I wanted.

“When would it need to happen?” I asked.

Anton swore softly.

Uncle Kostya said, “Quickly.”

“Of course.”

“Ksenia, no,” Anton said.

I looked at him.

He was carrying Papa’s organization after five days. He had buried our father yesterday. Today a man had died on one of his routes. Clients were leaving. Workers were frightened.

My brother looked older than he had a week ago.

“This is not your decision,” he said.

“No. It isn’t.”

Relief moved across his face too soon.

“It’s mine,” I said.

The relief disappeared.

I picked up Papa’s pen from the desk.

It was heavier than I remembered.

“I’ll consider it.”

Zoe took one look at my face and pushed the sugar bowl toward me.

“I ordered your coffee,” she said. “I also ordered cake.”

“I don’t want cake.”

“It’s very hard to know what we want. But I know what you need.”

Penny & Gull occupied a narrow storefront on Van Brunt Street. Six small tables. Exposed brick. A counter crowded with pastries and glass jars. The windows had fogged from the heat inside, blurring the afternoon traffic.

I had changed out of funeral black. Mostly.

Dark trousers. Cream sweater. Black coat.

Zoe wore an oversized rust-colored coat and earrings shaped like tiny gold hands. Her enormous tote bag occupied the chair beside her and probably contained enough supplies to restore a small theater.

She waited until I sat.

“What happened?”