Gilded Tears: A Russian Mafia Romance (Kovalyov Bratva Book 2) by Nicole Fox (e book free reading .txt) 📕

“Papa will deal with it.”

Cesar walks forward and nudges at my shoulder. I move down a little so he can sit next to me.

I don’t feel as frustrated when Cesar is here. He makes me less scared of Papa.

“I don’t like when you go away,” I tell him. “Why can’t I go to your school, too?”

“It’s only for boys.”

“I want to be a boy.”

“No, you don’t,” Cesar rebuffs quickly. “Trust me. You’re better off being a girl.”

“Why?”

“Because you’ll fly under Papa’s radar,” he mumbles.

I frown. That doesn’t quite make sense to me. But I’m only seven. Cesar says there’s a lot I won’t understand until I’m older.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Cesar says, shaking his head and smiling quickly. “Trust me, it’s better that you’re a girl.”

“Fine. Okay.”

He smiles and bumps his arm against mine. “One day, little bird, you’re going to be a fantastic pianist. You’re going to be a beautiful, strong woman and you’re going to choose the life you want to live. Not because you’re allowed to, but because you fought for it.”

I sigh. “I don’t know what you mean when you talk like that.”

He laughs. “Sorry, I’m ranting now. Will you play me something?”

“I’m not very good.”

“So keep playing until you are,” he encourages. “Either way, I’ll listen.”

I smile and start playing. This time, I get it right.

“Are you crying?”

Katie’s question jolts me back to the present and I try hastily to blink back my tears. “Sorry,” I say, smiling down at her. “I get emotional when I play.”

“Why?” she asks, sounding dumbfounded.

“The music helps me remember things about my childhood,” I admit to her. “From when I was your age.”

“Like what?”

“Memories of my older brother,” I tell her.

“Oh,” Katie nods. “Where is he?”

She’s a perceptive little thing and I don’t want to lie to her. “He’s… not around anymore,” I say simply.

Katie nods so solemnly I almost laugh. “Do you miss him?”

My answer is swift: “All the time.”

And it’s true. I do still miss my brother, but my feelings go further than that.

I hate him for leaving me with such a mangled, fucked-up image of who he was.

In fact, I hate him for leaving me at all.

“You play really good,” Katie tells me. “Like really, really good.”

I smile. “Thank you,” I tell her. “That means a lot to me.”

“I wish I could play like you.”

“You will one day,” I tell her. “You just need to keep practicing.”

“I don’t like my teacher,” she admits, leaning in a little and lowering her voice down to a whisper.

I fight the urge to laugh as I lean in too. “I didn’t like my teacher, either.”

“Really?”

I nod. “He was awful. He was really boring and really mean and he never smiled.”

“Mine, too!” she chirps. “Maybe we have the same teacher.”

That makes me laugh. “Maybe.”

Her father comes over. “I hate to interrupt. But Katie, we’ve got to go to school.”

“Yes, Daddy.”

Katie hops off the bench and scurries into the back to get her things. We watch her go, then I turn to the man and he gives me a kindly smile.

“You play beautifully,” he tells me.

“Thank you,” I say with a blush. “It’s been a while since I’ve played.”

“You can’t tell,” he assures me, before gesturing to the piano. “But if you ever need to practice, feel free.”

“Be careful: I might take you up on that offer.”

We both chuckle. Katie scurries right back out with a pink backpack looped over her shoulders. I say goodbye to the two of them and start the walk back to the apartment.

32

Esme

I feel good. Unburdened. Hopeful.

For a little bit.

Just like with the tea, though, the peace of the piano leaves me as soon as the moment ends. All my old anxieties rush back in.

And the closer I get to home, the more I realize I don’t know what Artem’s return means for us.

I’m fairly certain he isn’t planning on staying in this town forever. And I’m starting to realize that I won’t be able to bear being parted from him again.

The first time was different. I was reeling from the shock and trauma of bloodshed and violence.

I had just killed another man—in self-defense, obviously but it had still shaken me.

I was terrified of bringing my child into a world marred by such tragedy, and I was thinking a lot about Cesar, too.

He had hated being the son of a don. I could see that now. He had slowly wilted under the unforgiving pressure of what he was supposed to be.

Papa expected so much from him at such a young age. It turned Cesar, from the kind, sensitive man he was, into someone colder, harder… more ruthless.

And in the process, it broke him.

I didn’t quite know how much was an act and how much was really him.

I still don’t.

And honestly, I’m not sure I want to.

But like Artem has told me countless times before, life is not black or white. It’s grey.

There are no heroes. There are no villains.

There are just people who make choices.

When I slip back into the apartment, I hear Phoenix’s familiar gurgling sounds and I know he’s up. My breasts are feeling a little heavy and I know I’ll have to feed him soon.

But I slow as I approach the bedroom door. I hang back and peek inside.

Artem is sitting up on the bed, his back resting against the wall. He has Phoenix hoisted up against his legs that form a backrest of sorts.

Phoenix reaches to graze Artem’s nose. Artem laughs and lets him pull at it to his heart’s content. Something inside me twists into a thick knot and I move into the room.

“There you are, beautiful,” Artem says, turning his dark, sexy eyes on me.

It hasn’t been that long a span of time that we’ve been apart.

But his body has changed considerably.

I didn’t think it could be improved upon, but somehow, he has found away. He is all hard muscle now, not an ounce of fat. Honestly, there are moments he looks like he is