Page 105

Oleg snickers, and Zakhar slumps back in his chair, dragging his hand over his face. Ilya’s lips quirk into a wicked grin as he looks at me.

“Then you should probably knock before entering through a closed door,” I suggest, grinning at her. “Babe, I’m not going to apologize for finding your uncle hot. You’ll get it when you find a guy you like one day. You’ll be jumping his bones as often as possible.”

“Like fuck.”

“Shut the fuck up, that is not happening!”

“Over my fucking dead body.”

The final one was Zakhar, and Mila laughs. “Yeah, you’re going to figure out pretty quick that mentioning me with a guy in any capacity sends them into a tailspin. Maybe I’ll go bi, so I have the option of girls too.”

“No fucking girls either,” Zakhar barks. Ilya and Oleg nod sternly.

Mila rolls her eyes, and I smile. “See?”

“Fine, whatever. You shall remain the Virgin Mary until the day they die. Which could be sooner than you think, depending on how much they all piss me off.” I give them all pointed stares, which they ignore.

“Alright, enough sex talk,” Oleg decrees. “You and Ilya need to figure out your shit, fine, but we have other more pressing things to discuss. Namely, what it means if you are staying here.”

“This sounds like a discussion I don’t need to be a part of.” Mila pushes to her feet. “I’m going to take Freya back to my room.” She moves around the table and presses a kiss to her father’s cheek and gives him a quick hug. “I’m sorry, Dad, and I’ll be more respectful in the future. But you really need to give her a chance. She’s going to be awesome around here, and it’s just what we need.”

Zakhar hugs her back but stares at her like she’s grown two heads. Ilya narrows his eyes at her when she goes to him next and does the same. “And I’m sorry, Uncle, for speaking to you guys that way. I’ll be more respectful. Thank you for letting me go to Pellerton. I’m going to make you proud and do really well.”

Ilya’s demeanor softens. “You always make me proud, rybka. Apology accepted. And if your father agrees, we will get you a dog to train. You are right, you should have another form of protection outside of us and Freya.”

“Thank you, Uncle,” she squeals, hugging him tight again, eyes wide and looking at him like he just told her Christmas came early.

Zakhar rolls his eyes. “No one can ever claim we don’t spoil you, rybka. I’ll look into it.”

Another squeal and thank-you hug. She even goes and gives Oleg one and promises, “And I’ll make sure Freya still feels loved. Yay! I’m going to start picking out the best names and message Rori.” She skips around the table and hugs me. “Thank you.”

She pulls away, but I stop her with a hard stare. She stills, the glee on her face fading. “Mila, I expect you to keep who and what I am to yourself. Do not speak about it with anyone. Not your friends. Not even quietly to yourself in your room. Do not write it down, not even in whatever code you want to make. The only people you talk to about me are myself, your father, uncle, and Oleg. And perhaps Mishka if you’re ever around him when no one else but us is there. You do not even tell Rori that I am here or anything about me. Not listening to me puts everyone, including you, in danger. Do you understand?”

She regards me seriously. “Got it. No talking or writing about the scary assassin that’s about to be my new aunt.”

I ignore that. “Promise me, Mila. And if anyone, and I mean anyone, asks you about me, you let me know immediately. Even if it seems small and inconsequential, you tell me right away.”

“I promise,” she swears, holding her hand up for extra flair. Sassy teenagers really are a pain. “And I’d just like to say, I’ve never mentioned you before, so I think I’ve proven I can be trusted.”

I’ll give her that. “Yes, you’re right, but this is not the same situation, so a reminder is due.” Then I smile, softening. “And since you have the go-ahead to get a dog, I’ll help you find one that will work.”

Another squeal—do all teenagers do that?—accompanies another hug, and she skips out of the room with Freya trotting along beside her.

I lock the door behind her—don’t need any more nosy staff thinking her leaving is an invitation—and state, “You all are fucking whipped when it comes to her. One hug, apology, and you cave. I pity any man she marries, because whoever they are is going to curse you.”

Not an ounce of repentance from any of them. Typical.

I take the seat Mila vacated, putting me next to Ilya, his eyes bright with lust when they connect with mine. I force myself to ignore it—which is fucking hard, damn it—and say, “Since, pet, here, didn’t want to wait for me to show up like a good boy, we need to talk some serious logistics. Namely, the fact that not one fucking person outside of this room, Mila, and Mishka can know who I am. Or that I’m here in the first place. One whisper, just one, and I’ll be gone so fast your heads will spin.”

That sobers them up. Ilya straightens, shoulders tensing, while the other two go on alert.

“No one would fucking dare⁠—”

“A lot of fucking people will dare,” I interrupt Oleg. “Do not overestimate the loyalty of the men and women here. Staff and soldiers alike. Fear of you will only carry them so far. Put enough money, enough pressure, and threats to their family or loved ones, and they will sell every single one of you out. Especially for a woman they don’t know. And one that is wanted in every country around the world at this point.”

Oleg slowly nods, realization dawning.

“It’s also why I’ve put Mila in Pellington,” I add, looking at Zakhar. “I have people there who will ensure she’s safe. And being in Mishka’s territory, it will give her added protection for when none of us are available to oversee it.”