something.
When his gaze landed on the photos of Vivian’s grandparents and mother, he was taken back to his earliest days in Houston. For the Western Christmas they had celebrated in December, he had given Vivian a box of photographs and letters and other bits of her family history that Maksim had cobbled together for him. She had put some of the photographs downstairs on the main wall in the entry, but she had handpicked these for Lev’s room.
Asking the boss—his father—for that favor hadn’t been easy, but Maksim had jumped at the chance to do something nice for Vivian. Maksim’s reaction had unsettled Nikolai. He feared the old man wanted more involvement in Lev’s life than he was willing to grant, but only time would tell.
The picture of Romero took him by surprise. His father-in-law straddled his beloved Dyna street bobber and leaned back on the worn leather seat. Wearing his club colors, he looked every bit as intimidating and dangerous as he had ever been, but he was smiling at the camera. The effect of the smile combined with the black and white tones of the photograph made Romero look almost grandfatherly. Almost.
To teach Lev the words mommy , daddy , parents and love , Vee had chosen photos from their maternity session that had taken place just after Thanksgiving. He had been less than enthusiastic about doing the session, but he couldn’t deny Vee anything she wanted. His only stipulation had been that the session had to take place in their home. Looking at the photos now, he couldn’t believe he had been so stubborn and difficult about sitting down for them. They were stunning and had captured moments that he wanted to remember for the rest of his life.
As he moved back toward the door, he noticed the grandfather position on his side of the family tree had been left empty. Maksim hadn’t made any public moves about recognizing him as his son, and he wasn’t going to push. For now, it was safer to keep that secret. With the added stress of the new baby and the new vulnerability it posed to him, he didn’t need the complications of the world knowing he was Maksim’s son. When the time was right, they could make that move with plenty of advance planning.
Noticing the photo in the paternal grandmother spot, he leaned in for a better look—and froze with shock.
My mother .
Mama.
Flashes of broken memories, of a childhood so long ago it seemed almost dreamlike, invaded his mind. Suddenly, he was four-years-old and jumping in puddles while his mother playfully scolded him for splashing her dress. He was a little boy curled up next to his mother as they tried to stay warm in their tiny flat during a cold Moscow night. He was a scared little boy watching a nurse drag a blood-stained sheet over his mother’s lifeless body…
Shaking himself from those unwanted memories, he reached out to touch the glazed and slightly distressed frame that held a picture of his mother. Marina . She had been so young when he was born, still just a teenager, and so incredibly beautiful with her blonde hair. In the photo, she smiled brightly, her youthful innocence a stark contrast to the haggard, frail woman he barely remembered.
But where the hell had Vee gotten this photograph?
No. Surely not…
But there was no other explanation for her having it, was there? Maksim must have put it in the box he had sent from Russia. For some reason, Maksim had held onto this photo for all these years. He’d held onto it, and he’d wanted them to have it now.
But why?
Not wanting to go there, Nikolai backed away from the wall of photos, switched off the light and left the nursery. He breathed in deeply and tried to clear his mind. Delving into the twisted history his teenaged mother had shared with a man at least twice her age was the very last thing he wanted to do before taking his wife out to celebrate their first anniversary. The last thing Vee deserved tonight was his brooding asshole routine. She had suffered
When his gaze landed on the photos of Vivian’s grandparents and mother, he was taken back to his earliest days in Houston. For the Western Christmas they had celebrated in December, he had given Vivian a box of photographs and letters and other bits of her family history that Maksim had cobbled together for him. She had put some of the photographs downstairs on the main wall in the entry, but she had handpicked these for Lev’s room.
Asking the boss—his father—for that favor hadn’t been easy, but Maksim had jumped at the chance to do something nice for Vivian. Maksim’s reaction had unsettled Nikolai. He feared the old man wanted more involvement in Lev’s life than he was willing to grant, but only time would tell.
The picture of Romero took him by surprise. His father-in-law straddled his beloved Dyna street bobber and leaned back on the worn leather seat. Wearing his club colors, he looked every bit as intimidating and dangerous as he had ever been, but he was smiling at the camera. The effect of the smile combined with the black and white tones of the photograph made Romero look almost grandfatherly. Almost.
To teach Lev the words mommy , daddy , parents and love , Vee had chosen photos from their maternity session that had taken place just after Thanksgiving. He had been less than enthusiastic about doing the session, but he couldn’t deny Vee anything she wanted. His only stipulation had been that the session had to take place in their home. Looking at the photos now, he couldn’t believe he had been so stubborn and difficult about sitting down for them. They were stunning and had captured moments that he wanted to remember for the rest of his life.
As he moved back toward the door, he noticed the grandfather position on his side of the family tree had been left empty. Maksim hadn’t made any public moves about recognizing him as his son, and he wasn’t going to push. For now, it was safer to keep that secret. With the added stress of the new baby and the new vulnerability it posed to him, he didn’t need the complications of the world knowing he was Maksim’s son. When the time was right, they could make that move with plenty of advance planning.
Noticing the photo in the paternal grandmother spot, he leaned in for a better look—and froze with shock.
My mother .
Mama.
Flashes of broken memories, of a childhood so long ago it seemed almost dreamlike, invaded his mind. Suddenly, he was four-years-old and jumping in puddles while his mother playfully scolded him for splashing her dress. He was a little boy curled up next to his mother as they tried to stay warm in their tiny flat during a cold Moscow night. He was a scared little boy watching a nurse drag a blood-stained sheet over his mother’s lifeless body…
Shaking himself from those unwanted memories, he reached out to touch the glazed and slightly distressed frame that held a picture of his mother. Marina . She had been so young when he was born, still just a teenager, and so incredibly beautiful with her blonde hair. In the photo, she smiled brightly, her youthful innocence a stark contrast to the haggard, frail woman he barely remembered.
But where the hell had Vee gotten this photograph?
No. Surely not…
But there was no other explanation for her having it, was there? Maksim must have put it in the box he had sent from Russia. For some reason, Maksim had held onto this photo for all these years. He’d held onto it, and he’d wanted them to have it now.
But why?
Not wanting to go there, Nikolai backed away from the wall of photos, switched off the light and left the nursery. He breathed in deeply and tried to clear his mind. Delving into the twisted history his teenaged mother had shared with a man at least twice her age was the very last thing he wanted to do before taking his wife out to celebrate their first anniversary. The last thing Vee deserved tonight was his brooding asshole routine. She had suffered
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