Page 39 of Married to the Don (Kornilov Bratva Duet 1)

“You knew what a maisonette was. Doesn’t seem pointless to me.”

She smiles and shakes her head. “I guess so.”

Theo suddenly comes tearing down the stairs in a new pair of dragon pajamas and matching slippers. He runs through the house like he owns the place, which, after a week of filling every room with his toys, he basically does. Molly tells him not to run, but I undo all her discipline the moment Theo kicks a soccer ball in my direction and asks me to play.

I turn the coffee table against the wall as a goal and then guard it diligently when Theo tries to make a goal. He gets past me every time, but not before I gently tackle him on the floor and tickle him behind the knees.

Molly eventually sits back on the couch, slips out of her shoes, and tucks her bare feet underneath her on the couch. She makes a few more notecards while I play with Theo, looking up and smiling in our direction a few times.

I can’t get over how surreally natural the whole situation feels.

Being with Theo is like being ten years old again, taking care of Fedor and playing with him. It feels like just yesterday I was building blanket forts in the living room and making him macaroni and cheese on the stove.

And looking up at Molly—it’s unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. I’ve only known her a week, but it feels like she has always been smiling up at me from the couch. It feels like we have always shared this space. Like she has always been with me.

But she hasn’t been, and she won’t be for much longer, I remind myself. This arrangement has an expiration date; I just don’t know when it is.

When Theo goes to kick the ball in the goal, he catches it with his heel on the wind-up and ends up kicking it down the hallway. He chases after it, and I take the opportunity to watch Molly.

I think maybe she needs the reminder that this arrangement isn’t permanent, too. She looks far too comfortable on my couch. She’s absorbed in her book and sipping on a mug of tea, and I wonder how long it has been since her life has looked like this. Or if it has ever looked like this.

She must feel my gaze on her because she looks up from her book suddenly, her eyes searching until they land on me.

“Sorry, I haven’t even been paying attention,” she says, closing the book and laying it on the floor next to the couch. “Do you need something? Is Theo behaving?”

“He’s great,” I say, surprised by how much I mean it. I never imagined myself with a family, not after the way I was raised. I couldn’t picture myself playing with a kid and being settled enough to fuck one woman for the rest of my life. Yet, we’re the image of domesticated bliss right now. Anyone who didn’t know us would look in on this moment, tilt their head to the side, and aww at our little family.

This isn’t forever, I remind myself yet again, feeling a frustrated storm cloud settle over me. They’ll be gone soon. We aren’t a family.

“Do you always leave Theo to entertain himself?” The words are biting, and Molly tucks her chin in, clearly surprised by my tone.

I feel bad, but before I can rethink the words or apologize, Molly frowns and stands up, walking over until we’re almost chest to chest.

“Why are you behaving like such an absolute asshat?” she asks, talking quietly so Theo won’t overhear while also jabbing her finger into my chest.

Now it’s my turn to be surprised.

Nobody ever stands up to me that way. As the leader of the Bratva, any pushback to my commands or critiques is done behind closed doors. Not even my soldiers are daring enough to say it to my face. And I’ve certainly never been called an asshat before.

The situation is ridiculous enough that I almost smile, the dark cloud that had gathered over my head dissipating slightly.

Before I can break, Theo runs back into the room. He’s ready for another round of soccer, but Molly tells him it is time for bed. He begins to pout, but she fixes him with a glare, and he quickly bids me good night and runs up the stairs.

Apparently, she doesn’t take any shit from anyone.

I pad into the kitchen while she’s upstairs and rifle through the leftovers in the refrigerator. I have a chef make me a few days’ worth of meals at a time since I eat at strange hours of the day and night. My schedule isn’t regular enough to have a full-time chef or have my meals delivered. The fridge is more full than usual with meals for Molly and Theo as well.

I’m warming up a plate of teriyaki chicken with rice and broccoli when Molly comes back down the stairs. I’m prepared to let the conversation from before go, chalking the entire thing up to a flare of tempers, but when Molly rounds the corner, I can tell by the set of her jaw that she’s back for round two.

“Sorry, I would have loved to stay and tell you what a conceited, power-hungry jerk-off you are, but I had to go put Theo to bed. You know, my son? The one I’ve taken care of day in and day out for years now?”

I hold up a hand to stop her, but she swats it away and keeps coming, pointer finger extended and ready to begin jabbing again.

“Excuse me if I sit down and take a break for a second. If I kick my feet up and read a book for ten fucking minutes.” Her finger connects with my chest. “Excuse me if I thought you had some mild interest in playing with him since you’ve made such a big stink about being his uncle.”

I grab her hand and twist it away from me, holding it over her head.

Molly’s eyes go wide, and she strains against my hold. When she can’t break free, she reaches for me with her other hand, but I grab that one as well.

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