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“Really?”

“Really,” he told her.

“Alright, you two. First, the cake needs to be prepared and in the oven. Then presents.”

“Party pooper,” he growled at me while ripping off his tie.

As soon as I tossed my head over my shoulder and our eyes locked, I noticed he was studying me as if knowing something was wrong. “Roll up your sleeves, big man, and get ready to learn how to bake. I’ll make you a drink if you’re a very good boy.”

“Izzy is a slavedriver, my daughter. Never forget that.”

It was the first time he’d used my nickname and it felt very normal. Maybe too much so.

“Izzy says all men need to be controlled.”

While I bit back a laugh since she actually had heard me say that more than once, he turned his head very slowly in my direction. Why did I have a strong feeling that he was going to punish me later?

“Oh, she did, did she? I can see Izzy and I need to have a very private conversation.”

I shrugged on purpose and pulled out a glass, finding the scotch under the cabinet. After preparing and when I slid it across the counter toward him, I realized his gaze had only intensified.

There was something so masculine and powerful about how he took time rolling up his sleeves, exposing his snake.

So authoritative. So very much in character as being the big, bad Russian Pakhan. “Where’s your drink?” he asked.

“I have wine. You just get ready. You’ll be Betty Crocker by the time I’m finished.”

He grumbled but accepted the apron and when he put it over his head, I had a moment of levity.

“What?” he demanded.

“You look adorable,” I told him before pulling out the mixer I’d found in the cabinet, shocked he even owned one.

“I’ll have you know men do not look adorable.”

“Then you’re cute, Papa.” Mina was much happier and her eyes were brighter than before. Even so, all I could think about were the balled-up sketches I’d taken from her room. They were horrible, men in masks and the two of us cowering in the tiny bed.

I had a horrible feeling the nightmares would soon begin, stripping away what little comfort and happiness she had. Maybe she’d only face tests, but I was horrified her life would once again forever be altered.

And I knew in my heart Maxsim would blame the world.

In my mind, I wasn’t entirely certain I would blame him.

* * *

I watched from the doorway as Maxsim read Mina a story. He seemed more relaxed than I’d expected to see him, his feet crossed on her bed and he was even stroking Shadow’s head while Mina leaned against his arm, thoroughly enjoying the big girl book he’d purchased as one of the presents.

Along with an iPad, two Barbie dolls, three board games, an adorable little set of PJs, and a cute camera in pink similar to one I’d had as a child.

Sometimes, the man could truly surprise me with how tender and generous he was. While I was watching him using different voices while telling the story, I reflected on what Mario had told me and the respect I’d heard in the man’s voice.

Maybe I’d thought of Maxsim much differently than before and he deserved more of a benefit of the doubt. Even so, a knot remained in my stomach from knowing what he’d face. What we’d all face.

It felt as if we were walking a tightrope and a huge windstorm was coming. There were just too many terrible things that we’d face, many of which were complete unknowns.

And almost all dangerous.

I slunk away as he was getting close to the end, hugging my arms from the light chill continually drifting through me. I went downstairs, uncertain how to tell him what was needed. There was no easy way of sharing the news. The burden felt too much to bear.