Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 94640 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94640 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
I swallow hard.
“Semyon, Eli’s back!” Stefan announces as if Semyon doesn’t know. His innocence is endearing. “Anya, did you see him?”
I smile, hugging my arms around me and taking another sip of coffee. “I did.”
Semyon turns to face Stefan and crooks a finger. When Stefan meets Semyon, he kneels on one knee. My fearless Bratva later, kneeling on one knee before a child.
“You’ve gotten so much taller,” Semyon says in his sleepy rumble of a voice. “How old are you now? Twelve?”
Stefan smirks. “Still eight, but definitely taller. I’ll be taller than Eli and you.”
“Then keep eating those vegetables your sister’s always harping on you about,” Semyon says.
Stefan eyes him seriously. “Even the spinach?”
“Especially the spinach.”
Stefan frowns. “I’ll think about it.”
Semyon looks up and smiles at me, actually smiles. It’s still so rare, and something in my chest loosens.
Stefan returns to Eli and tells him all about the Kopolovs as if it’s all been some kind of crazy adventure. I suppose for him, it has been.
“I’m going with Eli back to our house today!” Stefan calls out as I wipe down the breakfast table.
I meet Semyon’s gaze. He nods. “They’re safe, Anya,” he says quietly. Then to my brother, he raises his voice. “Make sure you get your homework done first, Stefan.” My throat aches. I’m not doing this alone anymore. “Back to school tomorrow.”
Back to everything tomorrow. Dinners at the Kopolovs, which I’ve come to look forward to. A full day at the bakery, a “re-opening” we’ve planned in detail. Semyon and I, here in our home together.
We clean the kitchen in amicable silence, both of us lost in a world of our own while Eli and Stefan get ready to leave. Semyon insists they take a full guard with them. Semyon’s told me Eli’s still not fully in the clear with the rest of his family but thankfully keeps me ignorant of whatever they have planned.
Sometimes I want all the details. Sometimes I don’t. For now, I want to know that Stefan and Eli are safe. That’s all I need.
It’s a lazy Sunday afternoon. I’m still in my jammies at noon, my hair in a messy bun, no makeup on. Semyon is sexy as sin in his gray sweats and white tee.
“Chess?” he asks when the kitchen’s sparkling clean.
“Maybe we should play something more low stakes,” I say with a wink. “We used to play checkers when I was younger, remember?”
He tilts his head to the side. “I remember everything about you when you were younger.”
“Do you?” I smile at him. It soothes me to hear him talk with fondness about my younger years. It heals me a little each time. “Like what?”
He tucks his hands into his pockets with an almost boyish shrug. His glasses have fallen down his nose a bit, and he hasn’t bothered to fix them. “You used to chase fireflies by the creek.”
That’s right, I did. I stare at him in wonder. How could I have forgotten? “You were the only one who could make me smile after my parents died. You’d crack a joke or do something silly. You’d stare at me when I was with Eli like you were half-scared and half-enchanted, and you’d blush a pretty shade of pink when I caught you.”
“Oh god.” I cover my mouth with my hand and shake my head. “No.”
“You did,” he says, taking his hands out of his pockets and walking toward me. I look up at him as he nears. He smells like clean, snowcapped mountains and spring air. “You were this shy kid with freckles all over your nose. Innocent. Trusting.”
Our toes touch. His knuckle under my chin lifts my gaze to meet his.
“And now?” I whisper.
“And now? I was afraid you had too much light and innocence for my world.” Shaking his head, he holds my gaze with his steely blue eyes. “But I’m afraid I’m the one who’s been fully corrupted, sweetheart.”
“I’m glad you’ve finally admitted it, Superman.”
“Superman?”
“Don’t you know that’s how I see you?”
An adorable furrow across his brow is the only indication that he’s fully confused. “Me? A superhero? I’m definitely not the good guy.”
I brush my thumb along his stubbled cheek. “No? I’m shocked. I thought for sure you lived to stop trains from plummeting to their deaths from broken train tracks and helping little old ladies cross the street.”
“Nah,” he says with a shrug. Leaning in closer, he brushes his lips across my forehead. “Unless they’re giving out capes for burning the world to embers to save you, I’m fresh out of luck when it comes to heroics. Now. About that strip chess game…”
We settle on lap chess, a “Semyon” strategy indeed. I sit on his lap, playing my part, and he feels me up, playing his. I don’t know how he can play backward on the board, but I’m not sure that winning is his ultimate goal here.