Page 19 of Niko's Printsessa

“Hardly,” he says with bitter guilt.

“My mother was the strongest person I know, but she couldn’t fight the depression swallowing her. Most days, she never left her bed and getting her to take a bath was a fight. Stargazing was a thing of the past. I wanted to quit school to take care of her but she wouldn’t let me. I made doctor appointments with specialists, but she refused to go. She gave up.”

He refills our glasses, drinks his in one shot, and repeats. I think I hear a sniffle.

“You don’t have to continue.”

He clears his throat and says, “I need to.”

“Nadia Ivanova died two weeks before my high school graduation. We had argued a lot that month. She wanted me toapply to colleges but I wasn’t willing to leave her. Who would take care of her? We only had each other, and I refused to desert her.

“I’m not sure where she got them, but she took some pills, and when I came home from school I found her in bed, barely conscious. I tried to call 911 but she told me it was too late and she didn’t know how much time she had left to unload her burden.

She told me everything – How she fell in love with Boris Sokolov. How angry he was when he learned she was pregnant with his child. How he beat her and then ordered her death. She cried over the loss of my half-brother and told me how Ivan Petrova saved her life. I finally learned the truth of my father. Who he was and how much he loved her. She told me that Boris discovered she was still alive and immediately had my father murdered, for disobeying his orders.”

I wipe the tears from my eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“That’s when I really discovered my love for violence. I was already a great fighter, but the night my mother died, my heart died with her. All I cared about was revenge.”

His laugh is sinister, “Ironic. I sold the farm for an alarming amount. My father had purchased the property for her, and we had no idea the land was worth a fortune.

“I researched the Sokolov family, learning everything I could about them, but unfortunately, Boris was already dead. So, I targeted my revenge on Sergei. I enrolled in the same university and befriended him, my sole purpose to murder him.”

I know this part of the story, “But that didn’t happen.”

He chuckles, the sadness in his voice dissipates as he talks about my cousins. “Nope. And then I learned his mother was my aunt,and all bets were off. I couldn’t kill them, but there were a couple tense moments when Andrei seriously thought about takingmylife.”

I laugh as he tugs me out of my chair and into his lap. “And then I met you.”

“You tolerated me.”

“I’m still tolerating you,” he teases.

I push at his chest but he holds me tight against him. “I’m four times your size,Printsessa. Give up before you make a fool of yourself,” he jokes.

I attempt to tickle him. It’s no use, but I’m no quitter, so I try to wrestle out of his hold, but something in his voice pulls at my heart. It almost sounds like a plea, “Stay.”

My chest tinges and I immediately stop.

“Tell me about growing up in Russia.”

It takes me a couple beats to form my thoughts.

“I had no idea how hard life actually was until we moved to Las Vegas. Papa was always smiling, laughing, and positive. He raised me with rose colored glasses, and then we left when I was eight. I was too young to see the bad, and if there was any, my father sheltered me from it. I didn’t realize until years later how poor we were, but I never wanted for anything. If love was used as a commodity, I would’ve been the richest girl in the world.”

“Leo is a good man.”

His fingers roam up and down my arm softly as I lean against his chest. I should move, but I can’t. I mean I physically can’t. My body is a magnet to his and separating us right now would be futile. We’ve never dug below the surface or had meaningful,deep conversations, not like this. Although some of it is sad, I’m grateful for this experience.

There’s no chance for us as lovers, but maybe, just maybe, we can be friends.

“In Russia he was a law abiding citizen. He taught chemistry and we lived in a small apartment near the college. We visited art museums every weekend for as long as I can remember, and he continued the tradition when we moved here. I think that was what helped me adjust. No matter what, we always had our weekends. Until I turned into a hormonal teenager and wanted to spend all my time with friends. But the love of art will never leave me.”

“You’re very talented, Becca.”

“You know I paint?”

“Of course. I know more about you than you think.”