Page 79 of Bratva and Betrayal: Kirill

My hands look different. I see them holding Violet as a baby. The baby in those photographs.

God, she was so small, just three weeks old when I left her. Left them. The thought that I could leave my baby cripples me like a sharp and disorienting blow all over again.

In the mirror, I stare at my reflection. At the woman who Kirill Volkov chose. I’m sure he had other options as the Bratva heir, as a rich and devastatingly handsome man.

But he also kept us a secret. Something nags at me that there’s more to that part of the story.

I swallow hard, forcing the emotion down, while I choose an outfit for our date. A winter white sweater dress with a saddle brown belt feels appropriate. On the far wall are boots. I snag a pair the same color as the belt.

The dress fits, just not perfectly. It clings to my hips a little more than I’m comfortable with. I don’t have the luxury of unraveling over it. Not here. Not now.

A mirrored and gold-trimmed jewelry box on the center dresser catches my eye. I assume it’s mine, so I open it gently.

It’s filled. Not with just a few pieces, not sparse and cheap. There’s an array of necklaces, bracelets, and rings, all sparkling, all expensive-looking. Purchased by Kirill, I assume, and given to me as gifts. Each piece is more intricate than the last. Colorful gemstones catch the light. Emerald, sapphire, and amethyst.

Holding up the ruby necklace, I consider the memories I made wearing it. Memories that are stored somewhere in my head.

But nothing is forming in my mind’s eye. My heart feels it. It’s strong.

“You look pretty,” a soft voice cuts through the pulsing in my ears.

Violet stands in the doorway to my closet, her eyes wide and warm as they take me in.

“Thank you,” I manage finally.

She steps into the closet in one fluid motion, much the way she walks through this mansion while everyone else tiptoes. She owns this home and the heart of everyone in it.

After her snack, Violet showed me everything in her bedroom. My eyes teared up at how Kirill put so much thought into it.

“They’re all sparkly.” Her gaze drifts to the jewelry box. “Can I play with them?”

“Of course.” I bring the box to the edge of the dresser since it’s only eye level for her.

She climbs up onto the small stool beside me with an ease that suggests she’s done this before.

“Do you help your daddy get ready?”

She nods. “I pick out his ties.”

My ovaries explode at that.

“Did you pick one out for tonight?” I watch her as she studies the jewels, her brow furrowing slightly in concentration before she chooses a thin gold chain with a purple stone pendant.

“Yep.” She beams and holds up the necklace triumphantly. “You should wear this one. It matches Daddy’s tie, and it’s my favorite color.”

“Purple is your favorite color?” I ask, taking the necklace from her little hand.

“It’s my name. Violet.” She pops off the stool and twirls. “Daddy said he named me because it was the color you painted with all the time.”

A flash of that book I saw in the library hits me. All the paintings. Florals with shades of purple.

“Purple is my favorite color, too,” I say softly.

She beams with a bright, unguarded smile. I lift my hair and clip on her chosen necklace. The stone hangs heavy against my chest.

Looking down, I see cleavage plumped up from the dress’s neckline that I didn’t notice before. It’s mostly from the fancy bra I found. And the matching lace thong.

“What do you think?” I ask, letting my hair fall back into place.