12. Mikhail

Dante takes one look at the mansion and yanks on his mother's arm. He whispers in Viviana's ear loudly enough that I can still hear him, "Is magic real life?"

"Mostly, no—but it's complicated."

Everything is complicated.The sooner Dante learns that, the sooner my world will make sense to him.

Viviana is still wearing the clothes she showed up to work in six hours ago. Six hours? Is that all it's been?

Six years of searching for Viviana without a single hit. No sign of her, nothing. Now, she's been back in my life for six hours and she's moving into my house with our son.

Life can really come at you fast.

"Castles are from movies. Maybe other things from movies are real, too. Like…" Dante squishes up his face in thought. "Can dogs talk?"

"No," Viviana answers patiently, "dogs can't talk."

"What about cats?" he fires back.

She shakes her head. "Nope. Not them, either."

"Birds?"

God, this woman has the patience of a saint.

I've never been around kids. I was barely a kid myself. Something about his innocence, his pursed lips, the seriousness on his face… it makes a dormant part of me stir. I shake it off and leave them behind.

Stella is waiting in the entryway. "Mr. Novikov." Fifteen years of service to our family and Stella still bows deeply when she greets me. I asked her once why she always bows and she said that every time she sees me, she realizes she could be looking at Trofim instead. It leaves her overflowing with gratitude.

Fair enough.

"I'm leaving them to you, Stella. Get them settled and give them whatever they need."

"We weren't expecting guests, so the guest wing hasn't been aired out yet. I can have the maids speed up the process if you?—"

"They'll stay in the family wing," I say dismissively.

The last time this house was regularly occupied, every room in the family wing was full. The master bedroom and all three of the bedrooms—one for each of us boys. Now, my son is going to occupy one of those rooms.

Only so I can keep an eye on them, I remind myself coldly.

"Whichever room they want," I continue. "But make sure they don't leave."

Stella nods. "Understood."

I don't offer an explanation for why Viviana and Dante are coming to stay with me and can't leave, but Stella knows better than to ask for one.

Viviana is still inching Dante up the stairs while answering every question he peppers her with. The conversation has shifted from magic to every crazy thing he's ever seen in a cartoon.

"If a piano lands on your head, do you get squished flat like a pancake?" He glances up at the facade of the house like there might be a Steinway baby grand dangling from the balcony with ropes.

Before Viviana can respond, I hear a soft gasp behind me.

Stella is frozen in place, staring through the open door. She's watching Dante like he"s impossible. Like he's?—

"Yours," she breathes, turning to me. "Is he?—"

"Help them get settled and mind your own business," I snarl.

My tone is a little overly aggressive, but it's been less than an hour since I learned he existed. I'm not ready to talk about it with anyone else. I don't even know what to say. Based on Stella's reaction, denying Dante won't be an option.

"I'm sorry, sir. I shouldn't have…" She dips her chin. "Understood."

Viviana and Dante step into the entryway, necks craned back to take in the dual marble staircase that leads to the second-floor landing.

"I have work to do," I explain without meeting either of their gazes, "but Stella will show you to your rooms."

"I get my own room?" Dante asks in disbelief.

At the same time, Viviana takes a step closer. "You're leaving?"

"I have work to do," I repeat.

She frowns.

Disappointment?I wonder. Frustration? Not that it matters. The only reason she's in my house is because of Dante. Because she kept my son from me for five years. If anyone has good reason to be disappointed or frustrated, it's me.

What does she expect? A guided tour? After everything she's done, she should be grateful she's here at all. I could have grabbed Dante and ran.

I pivot and toss back over my shoulder, "Make yourselves at home."

Dante doesn't hear. He's too busy asking his mom if he gets to wear a crown now that he's a prince.

I walk straight to my office for five minutes of peace, but Raoul is waiting outside the door for me. No peace to be found here today, it seems.

"Not now," I tell him as I turn the key. "I need five fucking minutes to myself before you and Anatoly jump on me."

"Anatoly is in the dungeon."

"Because he's smart enough to send you to do his dirty work," I surmise. "If he wants to know more about Viviana, he's going to have to wait."

Anatoly is going to lose his mind when he realizes he was right. He's unbearable enough as it is. The last thing he needs is a reason to gloat.

"Mikhail, this isn't about Viviana."

His tone is solemn enough that I turn to face him. "Then what is it about?"

He takes a breath before he says, "It's about Trofim."