13
ANYA
Dina clears her throat, looking at me with an accusing look.
“What?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “You’ve been glowing ever since that first day Mr. Morozov left your door unlocked.” She arches a brow. “Is there something going on with you two?”
Despite wanting to keep cool, heat flares over my skin and I know the answer is written over my face. “Perhaps.”
Her expression turns stern. “I’ve known Valery since he was a little boy and he has a heart of gold under all that crime boss bullshit.” She points at me. “Don’t hurt him. Your family ties are worrying, to say the least.”
It’s amusing that she believes I’d be the one to hurt him. The mob boss who kidnapped me from my home and took my innocence. “What makes you think I’d be the one causing any hurt?”
“Because all the staff have noticed the change in him since you arrived. He’s less short and snappy, which suggests you make him happy.”
The heat that was flaring over my skin intensifies, and I wonder if that could be true. Is it possible that the hardened pakhan of the Morozov Bratva cares for me?
I grab my orange juice and take a long sip. “Believe me, I think I’ll be the one hurt, not him.”
She nods. “As long as you aren’t playing him, considering who your father is.”
Hurt claws at my throat, as I’ve told her all about my father and what an asshole he’s been to me all my life, and yet she believes I’d still be loyal to him. “I told you, I hate my father.” Standing, I head toward the exit. “I’m going to watch a movie.”
Dina perhaps senses that she has angered me. “I’m sorry, Anya. You can just never be too careful when it comes to the line of work Valery is in.”
I turn to face her.
She shakes her head. “Before Valery’s mother died, she made me promise I’d look out for him.”
My brow furrows. “When was that?”
“He was only ten years old when she died of lung cancer.”
I nod in response. At least his mother left because she had no choice. The pain I’ve carried for years over my mother’s abandonment has been deep-rooted and a weight I wish I could let go of.
“You’ve never mentioned your mother,” she says.
I shake my head. “Nothing to mention. She abandoned me and my brother fifteen years ago.”
Dina’s brow furrows. “Really?”
I nod in response. “Yes, I haven’t heard from her since.”
“Who told you that she abandoned you?”
The question seems irrelevant. “My father. Why?”
Her throat bobs as she swallows. “I knew your mother, Anya. She didn’t abandon you.”
“You knew her?”
She nods. “Maria Lebedev worked in the soup kitchen I volunteered at in Moscow years ago. The day she went missing, there was a lot of talk.”
I walk back toward her and take a seat at the kitchen table. “I don’t remember her very well. I was only eight when she left.”
Dina sits down too. “The truth is, the rumor going around was that she’d told your father she was leaving him and taking you and your brother.” Her lips purse together. “She had met a man she loved and didn’t want to pretend anymore with your father.”