Page 92 of Vendetta Crown

24

RUSLAN

I swearrocket engineering is simpler than whatever the hell this crib assembly manual is trying to tell me.

The instructions stare back at me, mocking my twenty minutes of frustration with cheerful cartoon illustrations that make no fucking sense.

"Any progress?" Aurora's voice drifts from across the nursery where she's kneeling on a drop cloth with Stella and Sofia, their hands covered in varying shades of blue and green paint.

"If by progress you mean I've assembled what looks like a medieval torture device, then yes." I toss the instruction booklet aside and survey the scattered wooden pieces. "I'm beginning to think our children might be better off sleeping in dresser drawers."

"You should tryreadingthe instructions instead of just looking at the pictures."

"I think I would've made more progress if I had ignored the instructions and only looked at the pictures."

Aurora laughs, and the light sound makes my chest ache with how much I love her.

Her belly, now growing larger with each passing day, hides behind her loose t-shirt as she dips her brush into a container of sea-foam green.

"Uncle Ruslan, why is your face all red?" Sofia asks, her tiny forehead creased with concern.

"Because he's losing a battle with an inanimate object," Mikayla answers from the doorway, leaning against the frame with amused teenager judgment.

"I'm not losing," I growl, picking up the screwdriver again. "I'm strategizing."

"The pakhan of pakhans, defeated by woodworking." Mikayla steps into the room and picks up the discarded manual. "I don't think this is one thing you can glare into submission."

Aurora's eyes meet mine across the room, sparkling with amusement. Her hair is pulled back in a messy ponytail, a streak of paint across her cheek. Even with smudges of color on her hands and the oversized t-shirt that barely contains her growing belly, she's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.

"Once you put one together," Aurora reminds me, resting a hand on her stomach. "The second one probably won't take you nearly as long."

I set the screwdriver down with exaggerated care and meet Aurora's laughing eyes.

"You're finding this terribly amusing, aren't you?"

"Not at all," she replies, but her twitching lips betray her. "I'm just impressed by how many fresh curse words you can mutter under your breath. I think I count at least twelve new ones I've never heard before."

"I'm glad my vocabulary is expanding your language skills. Very educational for the children."

I run a hand through my hair, feeling the heat of exertion on my neck as I stare at the instructions. The smiley faces that appear on the random pages seem to mock me, and I can't help as another string of swears fall out of my lips.

Sofia giggles, dipping her tiny hand in blue paint. "What did you say, Uncle Ruslan?"

"Nothing you should repeat," Mikayla mutters before she snatches the instructions out of my hand.

Aurora carefully shifts her position on the floor, one hand supporting her lower back. "You know, in the script I was reading in the alleyway, I could've sworn the hero assembled an entire nursery in one montage scene. No sweat, no cursing."

"Funny how you didn't criticize that part as unrealistic." I sigh, picking up two pieces that should clearly fit together but refuse to cooperate. "I don't think there's a man on earth who's assembled baby furniture without questioning his entire existence."

"Should I call Artyom to assist you?"

"Why?" Mikayla beats me to it. "So you can watch both of them struggle?"

I can't help but laugh at Mikayla's comment. The girl's got her mother's sharp tongue but, thankfully, none of her venom.

"Fine, I accept defeat." I hold my hands up in surrender. "Mika, if you think you can make sense of this, be my guest."

Mikayla scoffs but sinks down beside me, her fingers nimble as she sorts through the wooden slats. "Well, for starters, this isn't part B." She points to another identical piece. "That is."

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