I’m waiting for an outburst, a shout for her to tell me to get the hell out, but instead, she’s nowhere to be seen.
The bathroom door is shut, the shower running.
I poke my head into the twins’ room, and they’re playing on the floor with the new train set that I bought them, among dozens of other toys.
I study Liam and Sophia from the doorjamb. They barely even notice me. At least they don’t pay any heed to the fact that I’m watching them.
They have no idea that I’m their father.
Do I tell them?
That would be breaking one of Aleksandra’s rules.
What has Aleksandra told Liam and Sophia about their father? I imagine she’s given them the same story that she’s fibbed to Mikhail, that he’s away fighting a war, a hero who will one day return.
But she never expected me to return or find out that she was pregnant.
“Antonio.” Her voice is a whisper. It’s soft and sweet as she stands behind me.
I spin around on my heel, glancing at her from head to toe. She’s wearing only a towel, clenching it in her fist against her chest.
Her hair is dripping against the floor, leaving a puddle as she stands waiting for me to answer her.
“I want to have a word with you,” I say and reach behind myself, closing the adjoining door, offering us privacy.
“Can I get dressed first?”
“I’m not stopping you,” I say and can’t seem to hide the smirk on my face.
Aleksandra rolls her eyes and pushes me toward the door, exiting the hallway.
I let her believe she has some aspect of control. If I wanted to overpower her, I could, easily.
Stepping backward, I approach the door, my back to the wood, but I don’t open it or step out into the hallway.
I’m not leaving that easily.
Her voice is terse, along with her gritted teeth. “Go!” she snaps at me.
This side of her is too enjoyable and endearing to walk away from. “I’d rather not,” I say and fold my arms across my chest. “Besides, you have something of mine that I’d like back.”
I don’t honestly give a damn about the dress shirt. There are dozens more in my closet, and one shirt can easily be replaced.
“What?”
“My dress shirt,” I say. The grinning grows even brighter as I stare at her.
She’s flustered and hurries around to the side of the bed, bends down, keeping her towel grasped in her grip. Aleksandra retrieves my dress shirt and tosses it at me. “I don’t know why you care so much about that thing. Plus, it’s missing half its buttons.”
It is missing quite a few buttons in the haste from last night’s festivities.
“Yes, I suppose it is.”
“Are you leaving now?” Aleksandra gestures with her free hand for me to skedaddle out of her bedroom.
Nice try,Tesorina.
“No,” I say and let the white dress shirt fall to the floor at my feet.