Page 72 of Ruthless Vow
His gaze flicks toward our daughter when she runs past him, and I watch his expression shift. It’s subtle, but I’ve learned all his subtle shifts by now. His eyes soften just a fraction. His mouth relaxes for half a second. His shoulders drop. He bends down to scoop her up, and her laughter fills the whole room.
He excuses himself from his men and crosses the room without hurrying. Annetta squirms and giggles in his arms. He throws her over his shoulder and she hangs upside down, laughing at her helpless parents.
“Look at me, Mommy.” She laughs.
“I believe this belongs to you,” he murmurs affectionately.
“No, I think you’ll find that’syourdaughter,” I joke.
“Okay everyone,” Sergei calls from across the room. “As we all know, today is the princess’s birthday. It’s time to cut the cake and sing to our favorite girl! Where is she?”
Annetta giggles again and screams. “Put me down, Papa,” she says happily.
He sighs and rolls his eyes, taking her over to her “Uncle Sir” to be regaled with a birthday song and cake. Of course, when thecake is brought out, there’s a long line of frosting that’s missing from the design.
Viktor meets my eye from across the room and we both start laughing. A chorus of “Happy Birthday” breaks out, and then our brave little girl blows out the candles all by herself, before patiently waiting for her cake.
Sergei walks over to me, shifting his plate to one hand, and lowers his voice. “Your father is here.”
My body goes still. My pulse still jumps, because my father’s presence will always do that, even when he is smiling and trying to play the role of affectionate grandfather.
Viktor’s hand at my back firms slightly, not squeezing, not locking me in place, just reminding me that he is there. His voice stays even.
“Where?” Viktor asks Sergei.
“In the front room,” Sergei answers. “He came alone. He didn’t argue about the security check.”
Viktor nods once, then looks at me. “If you want him to leave at any point, just say the word,” he says quietly. “I’ll take great pleasure in throwing his ass out the door.”
I take a slow breath and shake my head. “I want our daughter to know her family. As long as he accepts the terms.”
“And if he doesn’t, I’m throwing his ass out.”
I nod once and smile, then angle my body toward the front room. My father is standing near the entryway with a small gift bag in his hand. His suit is perfectly tailored. His hair is combed back neatly. He looks like he’s sincerely trying.
He sees me and his face becomes affectionate. “Dochka,” he says softly.
The word still crawls under my skin. It still feels like ownership disguised as warmth.
“Otets,” I reply, keeping my voice level.
His gaze flicks toward Viktor behind me, then returns to my face. He acknowledges Viktor’s presence with that faint tightening around his eyes that tells me he hasn’t really come around to his side.
My father holds the gift bag out. “I brought this for Annetta.”
I take it. “You can give it to her yourself,” I say. “She’s over there with Mama.”
Dad’s eyes darken. He and my mother have barely spoken since she divorced him not long after my wedding. He hesitates for a moment, weighing whether giving my daughter a gift is worth facing his ex-wife.
Our daughter chooses that moment to run toward us with a play sword in hand, more frosting on her cheek, her hair wild. I wouldn’t doubt that my mother put the sword in her hand herself. She stops short when she sees my father. Her eyes go wide in blunt curiosity.
“For me?” she asks loudly, eyeing the gift.
“Yes,” my father says.
She steps forward, sword still in her hand. My father kneels slightly, careful with his suit, and holds the bag out. Our daughter reaches in immediately, no hesitation, and pulls out asmall stuffed bear. She squeals, loud enough that half the room turns.
“Bear,” she announces, as if she’s discovered a rare artifact.
