Page 51 of Bratva Daddy
While I settled on the floor with my book, he did something with the TV that made the mean news lady go away and suddenly there was music and animation and—
"Tangled!" I squeaked, recognizing the tower and the girl with the long hair.
"A princess like you," he said, and the words made my chest feel full of something warm and soft like the blanket.
Big Clara would have argued that she wasn't a princess, wasn't special, wasn't anything but a disappointment. But small me just smiled and picked up the purple crayon because Alexei said I was a princess, and Daddies didn't lie about important things.
He settled on the couch with his laptop, doing work things that looked complicated and important. But his hand stayed on my head, fingers moving through my hair in patterns that made me feel melty and safe. Sometimes he'd stop to take a call, speaking English or Russian in his business voice, but his hand always came back to my hair like it belonged there.
I colored three whole pictures while Rapunzel sang about wanting to see the floating lights. Made her dress purple to match her hair, gave Flynn Rider a blue vest because blue was better than brown, turned Pascal pink because why should chameleons always be green? Each time I finished one, I'd hold it up for Alexei to see.
"Beautiful, little one," he'd say every time, like I'd painted the Mona Lisa instead of going outside the lines with crayons. "Should we hang it on the refrigerator?"
The idea of my pictures on his expensive fridge, mixed in with his important papers and schedules, made me giggle. "Really?"
"Every good Daddy displays his little girl's artwork," he said, serious like this was a law or something.
My tummy made a rumbly sound right when Rapunzel was meeting Maximus the horse. Hungry, but asking for food felt big and scary, like maybe I was being too needy. But Alexei had said good girls ask for what they need, and maybe that included when your tummy was empty.
"Daddy?" I started, then stopped, then started again. "Can I maybe have chocolate milk?"
The question came out tiny, like maybe he'd say no, like father would have said it would ruin my dinner or make me fat or wasn't appropriate for Albright women.
But Alexei just pulled out his phone immediately. "Of course, baby. Anything else you want?"
"Just chocolate milk?" I said, not wanting to be greedy.
"Hmm," he said, typing something. "I think little girls need more than just chocolate milk for lunch."
Twenty minutes later, there was a knock on the door. Mikhail came in looking like he always did—serious and a little scary—but carrying grocery bags that crinkled with promise.
"The items you requested," he said to Alexei, then looked at me all small on the floor with my coloring book. His face did something complicated, like he was solving a math problem in his head.
"Thank you, Mikhail," Alexei said in his boss voice. "That will be all."
After Mikhail left, Alexei unpacked the bags like it was Christmas. Chocolate milk in the little bottles that were just the right size for small hands. Juice boxes in every flavor—apple, grape, fruit punch. String cheese in individual wrappers. Goldfish crackers in the rainbow colors, not just regular orange.
"Lunch time," he announced, and went to the kitchen to make magic.
He came back with a plate that would have made father faint. Peanut butter and jelly with the crusts cut off, sliced into triangles like how Mom used to make them. Apple slices cut into bunny shapes with the skin peeled off. Goldfish crackers in a little bowl arranged by color. And chocolate milk in an actual glass but a small one, one that fit perfect in my hands.
"This is the best lunch," I told him, sitting at his feet with my plate because the coffee table was still covered in my coloring supplies. "Better than fancy restaurants."
"Little girls need little foods," he said, hand back in my hair while I munched on a sandwich triangle. "Food that makes them happy, not food to impress people or to be fancy."
The sandwich tasted like being taken care of. The chocolate milk was cold and sweet and exactly right. Even the goldfish crackers tasted better than usual, probably because someone had sorted them special just for me.
By the time Tangled was ending and Rapunzel was reuniting with her real parents, my eyes felt heavy. Lunch had made me sleepy, and crying had made me tired, and being small was exhausting in a way that being big never was.
"Sleepy," I admitted, leaning against Alexei's leg, Little Alex clutched tight in my arms.
"Nap time for little girls," he said, closing his laptop without hesitation.
He carried me again, and this time I was too sleepy to even enjoy it properly. His bed was huge and soft and smelled like him. He tucked me and Alexei Junior under the covers, made sure the blanket was smooth, checked that we were comfortable.
"Sleep tight, little one," he said, kissing my forehead. "Daddy will fix everything while you rest."
"Promise?" I asked, already mostly asleep.
