I’ve been quizzing him non-stop about his life in Chicago–partly to distract myself from the end of my old life. Partly because I want to know what to expect. I want to fit in and make friends and say the right things.
“What about your pakhan? Will he hate me because of my father?”
Adrian reaches for my hand and laces his fingers through mine. “Definitely not. He’s not a hater. He keeps a cool head about everything. Very strategic–not much drama.” I open my mouth to start a line of questioning about Lucy, but Adrian says, “Kateryna.”
“What?”
“Everyone will love you.”
“How do you know?”
“Because that’s how they are. And because there’s nothing about you not to love. And because I love you.”
Tears pop in my eyes. I’m not tired of hearing it yet.
I guess it’s three words I haven’t heard enough of in my life, and coming from Adrian, they mean everything.
“I want them to like me,” I admit.
“I know. And they will.”
I catch a glimpse of water right before Adrian turns into an underground parking lot.
“Is this it?” I gasp. “You didn’t tell me it’s right on the water!”
I don’t know what I’d pictured–something very utilitarian. Definitely not fancy.
But then, I probably should have known based on the vehicle we’re in. I know American cars are bigger, but this shiny black SUV seems enormous and posh.
He parks, and I hop out, pleased when he gathers my hand to lead me to the elevator. It’s such a simple gesture–hand holding–but feels like a claiming.
I’m going to take good care of you, Kat.
I still keep thinking he’s going to change his mind any moment, but I liked his reasoning about why he wouldn’t.
“Where are we going first? Straight to your apartment? Will Nadia be there?”
“Yes.” Adrian pulls me against him. “You don’t ever have to be nervous when you’re with me. I have your back. Always.”
“Okay.” I sound breathless. I bounce my knees in the elevator and shimmy. “I just want her to like me. I’m sorry–I’m really nervous,” I say.
We get off the elevator, and we pass an old woman in the hallway. Adrian greets her in Russian, then presents me, “Valentina, this is Kateryna, my girlfriend. She’s moving in today.”
The older woman reaches for my hand and clasps it. She greets me in Russian, and Adrian says to her, “Kat isn’t Russian. She’s from Ukraine.” To me, he says, “Kat, my sister works with Valentina cleaning and nannying for Ravil.”
“It’s so nice to meet you,” I say, not sure if she understands, but she bobs her head.
“Nice to meet you, too. Welcome to the Kremlin.”
“Thank you.”
A door opens at the end of the hall, and a young woman steps out. “Adrian!”
“Is that Nadia?” I ask.
Nadia hesitates like there’s an invisible forcefield keeping her within the boundaries of the apartment, but then with seeming effort, breeches it and steps out into the hallway.
When I approach, she opens her arms wide. I think she’s going to hug Adrian, but it’s me she gathers. “Sister,” she says in a thick accent.
My eyes water. Are we sisters? God, how I wished for a sibling growing up. I hug her back. “I was afraid you’d hate me,” I confess, unable to keep the worry to myself.
Nadia pulls back. Her expression is serious–I get the feeling it’s always this somber. “No,” she says firmly. “You are my sister.” There’s a fierceness to her words, and just like that, I feel claimed again.
For once, I belong somewhere. With people who want me. Who know the worst things about me–who my father is and what he’s done, as well as my neediness, my attention-craving, my naughtiness–and still claim me as one of their own.
Adrian takes my hand and gently tugs me into his apartment. It’s stunning–open and bright with large picture windows overlooking the water. It’s new and modern and absolutely beautiful.
“Welcome home,” Adrian murmurs.
“Is this real?” I turn into him, blinking back the moisture in my eyes.
He drops his duffel bag and wraps his arms around me. “You’re mine now,” he assures me. “This is where I’m keeping you. Right here. With me.”
I reach for his shoulders and use them to leap up into his arms, straddling his waist like a child. “Promise?”
He nips my breast and carries me toward a bedroom. “Mmm hmm. Let me show you what happens if you try to escape.”
I giggle and look back over my shoulder at Nadia, who wears a startled smile.
“I’m going downstairs,” Nadia announces loudly.
Adrian stops and turns, like he’s surprised. “You are?”
“Yes,” she says casually, but I know from what Adrian’s told me about her, it’s hard for her to get out of the apartment. “The Storytellers are practicing, and I want to listen. Besides, you two need time to settle in.”
Adrian hesitates then pushes forward. “Thank you, Nadia.” He shuts the door behind us.
“Is that unusual?” I whisper when he pivots and sets me on my feet, standing on the bed. I kick off my boots and jump on it.
He kicks his off, too. “Totally unusual. I…have mixed feelings about it.”
I reach for him to pull him up on the bed, too, and he delights me by following me, bouncing on it with me. “Why?”
“I think she has a crush on Flynn, Story’s brother, and he’s a player. I don’t like it.”
I give a scandalized gasp because I love every part of this convo–knowing the ins and outs about Adrian’s family, hearing about secret crushes, loving that this Flynn is getting Nadia out of the apartment.
“I think it’s good. If it makes her feel normal again, it can’t be a bad thing.”
“And when he hurts her?” Adrian demands.
“Maybe she’ll do the hurting,” I say with a shrug. “You never know.” I stop bouncing and loop my arms around his neck. “I like your bed,” I murmur.