35. Matvey

35

MATVEY

I rush to the penthouse with my heart in my throat. I didn't think I had one, but there's nothing else this lump could be—this wild hammering in my veins.

A strange man came to the penthouse, my men told me. He's with Ms. Flowers right now.

I've been an idiot. I've been so focused on keeping April out of my mind that I forgot the thing that matters most: our child.

If something happened to them because of me…

He said he was family. That was my soldiers' excuse for letting him through: He's family. They know what that means to me.

They have no idea what it means to April, though.

I storm out of the elevator. The bodyguards try to intercept me, already spouting more excuses, but don't spare those bumbling buffoons a single glance. They're either fired or dead. It all depends on what I find behind that door.

My blood is roaring in my ears. I can smell ash under the gap, can hear the mad beeping from the smoke detectors.

My child. My woman.

I whip out my keycard. I almost never use it—I promised April this would be her place for the time being—but this counts as an emergency.

So I swipe it, yank the handle down, and swoop in.

"April!" I call at the top of my lungs, gun in hand. "Are you?—"

And then Charlie Hill turns to stare at me.

"Matvey!" April jolts. "No guns at the dinner table. That was a rule."

I give myself a moment to breathe—to calm my racing heart. In, out .

Then I take in the sight before me.

April, wearing an apron from the kitchens. A pot, bubbling wildly on the stove. Dark smoke, rushing out of the open window.

And a fifteen-year-old boy with hazel eyes, hands raised in surrender, a pack of mac and cheese clutched tight between them.

"You…" I grimace. "You're cooking ."

April crosses her arms. "You could be less shocked."

"You set off the smoke detectors."

"It's part of my process."

I glance towards the pot, now bubbling over. "To burn and flood my hotel?"

"Okay, fine, you got me!" April throws her hands up in surrender as well. "So maybe dinner got away from us." An awkward blush spreads over her cheeks. "Just a little bit."

"‘Us' being…?"

In a flash, April turns off the stove and pushes the trembling boy in front of me. "Matvey," she begins, "this is Charlie, my brother. Charlie, this is Matvey, my…"

April fumbles for a word to describe us. "Matvey Groza," I cut in, holding out my hand.

Then I realize my gun's still in it.

I quickly put it away and try again. "Pleasure to meet you."

"Uhh, um…" Charlie mumbles, his handshake a bit unsteady. "P-pleasure's all mine. I'm Charlie—Charlie Hill."

"I know who you are," I tell him. "I make it my business to keep informed."

"Oh," Charlie says. "That's—good. Always… nice to know things."

My lip twitches with the urge to smile. This kid's got April all over: same eyes, same freckles, same foot-in-mouth syndrome. I can't help the fondness that comes over me. Minutes ago, I was ready to lay waste on the world. But now…

Consider me charmed. Must be a family superpower.

"I assume there's a reason you were trying to destroy my kitchen." When the siblings keep throwing guilty glances between each other, neither one quite sure how to navigate my whiplash wrath, I beckon April with my finger. "A word."

Charlie trudges off to the balcony. April approaches me with small steps, as if waiting for the guillotine to come down. "I'm sorry," she murmurs. "I broke a rule."

"So you're aware."

She fidgets with the hem of her maternity shirt. I don't think for a second that she's forgotten about our conversation at the beginning of all this. I was clear back then: no visitors. "It just happened so fast. I swear, I didn't tell him to come."

And yet he knew where to find you. Part of me wants to throw those words at her like daggers, sharp and precise. To hit her where it hurts, call her out on her lie. I don't appreciate being toyed with.

Instead, I hear myself demand, "Why is he here?"

April bites her lip. "It's… complicated."

"Make it simple for me."

"Look," she sighs, "I'm really sorry. I'll accept whatever punishment you think is fair. But right now…" She gives me a pleading look. "He needs me."

Whatever punishment you think is fair. For a moment, I wonder if this little vixen's trying to play me. To appeal to the most primal part of me to get off scot-free. I'm even tempted to let her—or at least pretend to. In the last thirty seconds, I've already come up with half a dozen " punishments" I'm itching to try on her.

And then I realize she's being serious.

Something dark stirs within me. Not for the first time today, I'm glad I gave Grisha the file to keep. If I had it on hand right now, nothing— nothing —would keep me from exacting a swift, painful revenge.

Because here April is, twenty-four and counting, still thinking she's going to be punished.

I don't even think. I turn and call the boy's name. "Charlie." Charlie rushes in from the balcony, straightening up like a little soldier. "Y-Yes?"

"Would you like to stay for dinner?"

Brother and sister both gawk at me.

"Matvey…?" April whispers, low enough that only I can hear. She's asking me with her eyes: Are you sure this is okay?

"I—I'd love to," Charlie splutters. "That is, if it isn't too much trouble…"

"Nonsense," I cut in. "Family's always welcome. Though…" The siblings follow my line of sight to the disaster on the stove. "I hope no one minds if we order in."

Two heads start shaking in sync. "Not at all," April blurts out.

"Definitely," Charlie agrees. "By all means."

Again, I bite back the urge to smile. "Pizza it is, then."

When Charlie pads away to rummage through my stack of takeout menus, April inches closer to me. "Thank you," she mouths.

I give her an impassive look. "Oh, you'll pay me back."

She blinks. "For the pizzas? Sure?—"

I catch her chin in my fingers. When I speak next, it's directly into her ear. "You promised me a punishment," I stroke her bottom lip. "I intend to take you up on that offer, kalina. "

April shivers against me.

This time, it's the right kind of shiver.

Despite the convenience of pizza boxes, the mess at the stove must be addressed eventually. For obvious reasons—namely a tall, lanky redheaded teenager sitting on our couch—I can't claim my punishment just yet, no matter how much I'd like to.

That's how we end up at the sink—April washing, me drying. It's… unsettlingly domestic.

Feeling the tension between us, she clears her throat. "About Charlie…"

"You don't need to explain," I interrupt, surprising myself in the process. When have I ever said those words to anyone? "He's your brother."

April bites her lip. "He had a fight with our mom," she says quietly. "Because of me."

Out of the corner of my eye, I watch her. April's face is a slideshow of conflicted expressions—guilt, compassion, hesitation, each giving way to the next.

You broke a rule , I should be saying. You brought a stranger into my home and you didn't tell me. I don't give a fuck why you did it.

Instead, I say, "I'm glad."

April frowns at me. "What?"

"He took your side," I elaborate. "He stood up for you. That's nothing to be ashamed of."

"It is for me," she replies softly. "I never meant to be a burden. To him, or…"

I clutch the plate in my hands. A little tighter, and it will crack straight down the middle. "If people didn't want to be ‘burdened,'" I growl, "they shouldn't have kids."

April blinks up at me. Her hazel eyes are shiny, two beacons of pure light. Not for the first time, I find myself wondering how she does it—clinging to hope like that.

After everything she's been through, she should want the world to burn.

"Hey, Matvey…"

"Yes," I say immediately. "The answer is yes."

April's head tilts. "You don't even know what I was going to ask."

"You were going to ask if he can stay the night." April's not the only one who's shocked—tonight, I keep shocking myself as well. Where'd this version of me come from? "The answer's yes," I repeat. "He can stay as long as he needs."

She blinks slowly as she processes. "You're… sure?" she asks uncertainly. "You don't mind?"

"Not at all," I say—and I mean it. "He's a good kid. Very polite."

I don't doubt for a second that that's April's doing—everything good about Charlie seems to be. Seeing them stand side by side, you'd never guess they were siblings except for their eyes. Charlie's tall, lanky, a head full of carrot-red hair. That spray of freckles on their cheeks could be chalked up to coincidence.

It's when you hear them talk that the resemblance becomes uncanny.

So what? the pakhan in me growls. Who cares that they're alike? Who cares if he reminds you of April?

Why should anyone get special treatment because of that?

I feel torn in half. Like I'm stuck in the middle of a fight between two sides of me, one of which I didn't even know existed.

But right now, I don't want to deal with it.

So I turn back to our conversation. "Certainly more polite than his sister," I add in a teasing tone. "I bet he's never cursed out a customer before."

"Hey!" April elbows me with a smile. "Neither have I."

"But you've thought it."

"No body, no crime." Then, finally, April's posture softens. "Thank you."

The sheer gratitude on her face unnerves me. I don't know what to do with it. In my line of work, you don't get to hear those two words often. Even less so when you're me.

Luckily, I'm saved by the man of the hour. "Hey," Charlie calls to us both, "if you guys aren't too tired, would you maybe… wanna watch a movie?"

He gets those last four words out all in one breath— wannawatchamovie? —like a schoolboy confessing to his crush. Honestly, it's kind of adorable. Reminds me of Yuri at his age.

"If the boss is up for it," I joke dryly with a glance toward April's belly.

April rolls her eyes. "You're never gonna let this one go, are you?"

"You scarred two of my toughest men."

"Then maybe they're not so tough."

And maybe, I think to myself, neither am I.

That's how we end up on the couch, all three— four —of us. It's… strange. A quiet night in, but with company. Only it doesn't feel forced—the atmosphere is as relaxed as it could be. Like we're just an ordinary couple, having April's brother over for pizza and a movie.

I glance over at April, curled up next to me, snuggled in a blanket. She's laughing so freely. I've never seen her this lighthearted.

Next time, we'll have to do things properly. Invite Yuri along. We could cook. April can't be trusted with a stove, but I still remember the recipe of my mother's goulash. It'd be fun. It'd be worth it.

And then, once the baby's born…

We could celebrate together , I find myself thinking idly. Right here, just like this.

I don't feel my eyelids growing heavy until it's too late. Lulled by the movie, and the darkness, and the warm weight of April leaning against my arm, I do something I haven't done in a long time.

I let down my guard.

I sleep.