Where the Wind Whispers (Seasons of Betrayal Book 3) (18 page)

“Just family, you said,” Kaz muttered to his sister, drawn from his thoughts as another waiter brushed by him carrying a tray topped with flutes of sparkling wine.

Just the girls, he had thought, but knowing his eldest sister, she always managed to turn something small into a goddamn event.

Vera grinned, a smile that even reached her eyes. For reasons known only to her, she had been a bit down lately. “This
is
just family.”

Somehow, she had turned a simple visit into a ‘Welcome to the World, Anastasya’ party, complete with servers, pink and white balloons and streamers, along with a one and a half foot high cake.

“Who’s footing the bill for this exactly?” he asked, watching that smile grow bigger. “You’re too comfortable spending my money.”

“Oh, stop your complaining, Kaz. Look at Violet. She’s happy, right?”

For the millionth time that day, Kaz sought out his wife, finding her smiling as she talked with the twins while holding a sleeping Anastasya in her arms. She
was
happy at the surprising turn of events, going right along with the flow of things as though it had all been planned.

Not for the first time, however, Kaz wished there was someone he could have called for her—someone she had known all her life who would celebrate with her. She never complained, or ever made him feel like he wasn’t enough, but sometimes, he could see the ghost of sadness in her.

“Right, where’s our mother?”

“In the kitchen,” Vera said with a knowing look. “Kaz, when you talk to her, be kind. You can’t forget that he wasn’t always a bastard.”

Sighing, Kaz nodded once before going in search of Irina, speaking to a few of his men as he went along. She was directing servers, pointing at where the presents were meant to be stacked and dishes were made. She looked right back in her element.

Clearing his throat so as not to startle her, Kaz stepped further into the kitchen. “You should be enjoying the party.”

She barely spared him a glance, though only because she was too busy directing. “A mother’s job is never done. Besides, this is a gift for your family. Violet only needs to worry after that darling little girl. This, I can handle.”

His mother had always been good at hosting—probably where Vera got her instincts.

It almost felt like they were back to where they once were.

“We appreciate it.”

“And how are you, Kazimir?” she asked, laying a hand on his cheek as she stared up at him. “You look tired.”

“That’s what a newborn will do to you,” he returned with an absent smile.

Nothing could truly prepare a person for the long nights, though he’d had some practice with the twins. He remembered all too well the way they had cried up until the moment they were fed. That had been a long few months. Though, back then, it had felt like ages.

Anastasya, his beautiful little girl, didn’t give them that kind of trouble. She was a dream come true, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t up at all hours of the night when it was time to feed her.

Though, if he were honest, he didn’t mind it so much.

“You were a pleasant baby, you know,” Irina said with an affectionate smile, as though recalling a fond memory. “Never gave me any trouble until you learned to crawl. I couldn’t keep you in one spot for long.”

Kaz chuckled. “Sounds about right.”

“Such a curious boy, you were. And do you know where I would always find you?”

“Where?”

“Following after Ruslan … and your father.”

Kaz lost his easy smile, not knowing what to say.

Irina too lost her smile, but she also didn’t look as sad as Kaz thought she would. “Things were simpler back then.”

Tucking his hands in his pocket, he glanced back through the entryway at his wife, his daughter, and the family he hadn’t been able to see in so long. “I
am
sorry.”

“Are you?” she asked, sounding genuinely curious.

“I’m sorry for your loss, not for what I did.”

She swept her thumb over his cheek, turning her eyes away. “I’m sorry that you were the one to do it.”

And that would just have to be good enough.

“It’s time for presents, I think,” Irina said, effectively changing the subject. “Take these into the other room and start.”

Kaz didn’t get a chance to respond before she was waving for one of the servers to pass him the first stack, this one topped with a rather small white box, wrapped in red ribbon. Deciding it was best not to argue, he did as he was told, carrying the lot back out to the party.

He set the towering presents on a nearby table, reaching a hand for Violet as she neared. She passed Anastasya off to Vera who seemed rather smitten with her new niece.

“Thank you all for coming,” Kaz said once Violet was close. “And thank you for all of your gifts. I’m sure Violet will thank you all individually, but consider this my one.”

Most laughed as Violet rolled her eyes at him, though even she had to admit that he was right. Smiling, Kaz reached for the present on top—the box with the bow.

It took all of a few seconds to get the ribbon undone and tossed on the table, the top quickly following, but to his surprise, there was nothing inside but a small card, barely bigger than a business card.

It was blank, or so he thought before turning it over in his hands and reading the one word written there.

“
Auguri
?” He tried pronouncing it, not recognizing the word.

No one else seemed to understand what he was trying to say, either—all except one.

Violet was no longer smiling.

Violet couldn’t
breathe
.

She was well aware she needed to do something—speak, move, or damn,
anything
.

Instead, all she could do was stare at that white box with its blood-red ribbon tied in an intricate, beautiful bow. The card in Kaz’s hand dropped to the floor, its congratulatory word already forgotten in his mind as he stepped toward her, probably with one of his reassurances that all was well and fine … or it would be.

But the Italian phrase that had been written in familiar, broad script was not lost on her.

Auguri
.

Best wishes, it had read.

Kaz’s Russian accent had, of course, obliterated the word. He had zero interest in pronouncing Italian correctly, or for that matter, learning how to when it came right down to it.

And maybe that all would have been a little funny had Violet not looked at the white box with the red ribbon and saw a man’s heart being cut out all over again. Perhaps it would have been amusing had the innocuous, seemingly innocent note inside not been written in writing by a hand she would recognize anywhere.

Her father.

Their calm before the storm was over, Violet knew.

She’d known it the moment Kaz had pulled out the card.

The peace of their daughter’s birth, welcoming her into their happy, loved world, was shattered
just like that
.

And now … now, Violet couldn’t breathe.

“Take it away,” she heard Kaz demand.

No one moved at first.

They were still staring at her.

Sometimes, Violet wondered if these people blamed her for the terror that always seemed to be a constant in their life. Her presence caused it, after all.

Now, it wasn’t
just
her but her child, too.

Her father’s innocent gift was nothing of the sort.

It was his declaration.

A reminder.

He was not done with her just yet. He’d not finished what he started where she was concerned.

Her
heart
. Her
soul
.

Those words still rang heavily in the back of Violet’s mind whenever she thought about her father.

Violet’s heart was just a few feet in front of her, saying something in Russian to another man, but Kaz’s gaze was still firmly stuck to her. She imagined she was quite a sight standing there, probably as white as a ghost and feeling about the same.

Dead inside.

Or damn well nearly there.

Her soul, however, was off to her right, sleeping comfortably in her aunt’s arms and so entirely unaware of the hell that was promising to be unleashed.

All because she was here—born and alive.

All because her mother loved her.

“Violet,” Kaz said, moving to stand in front of her, “it’s—”

“Please don't say that it’s fine.”

Her voice barely broke the level of a whisper.

It still, somehow, made her throat ache.

She didn’t
want
to be afraid.

She was not fragile—not weak under a man’s thumb.

Certainly not her father’s now.

Yet that all-consuming terror she had only felt once before when her husband lay in a coma, his future uncertain, was exactly what she felt at that moment.

For her child.

Her husband.

Not a single bit of it was for herself, though.

Alberto didn't want harm to come
to
her.

He wanted to
hurt
her in a different way.

“Let’s call this—”

Violet pushed past Kaz, not bothering to let him finish whatever he was trying to tell the guests of the small welcoming party. At first, she had appreciated that they had thought to put something like this together since Kaz was so very careful about letting people into their lives, even if they were familiar with the people.

Now, she wanted the eyes off her.

She wanted her child and her husband safe.

She wanted them all out of her house.

Vera barely said a thing when Violet carefully took a sleeping Anastasya from her arms without so much as a word as to why she was doing so. Violet didn’t bother with a goodbye to the guests as she cradled the baby close and left the main room without a look over her shoulder.

She could hear the chatter begin behind her as soon as she was gone.

She caught bits and pieces.

The Italians.

A message.

Violet didn’t need the obvious stated. She was not naïve; she was far from a dumb woman who stuck her head in the sand. But that didn’t mean she needed to face her anxiety and panic with all of them watching.

She headed to the one place in their large home that always, no matter what, made her feel safe and happy. Their bedroom.

Violet finally felt as though she could take a real breath when she had the door closed behind her and curled up on the reclining chair that also acted as a rocking chair. Anastasya barely reacted at all to being moved and now, rocked. Violet felt her daughter’s small lips smacking against her neck a second before a tiny hand replaced the feeling, telling her she’d found her thumb.

Her third favorite thing in the world next to her mother and father.

Violet settled for a moment, her heart calming and her fears beginning to leave. It wasn’t
all
gone, but it was better than it had been moments before.

It was only when Kaz slipped into the bedroom with a frown etched into his handsome features, and then kneeling down in front of her did Violet’s world finally begin to turn again.

All was right.

In those few seconds, as his one hand curved her bare knee and his other came to rest on their child’s back, Violet’s world was calm and good and
right
.

“I’m not going to say it’ll be fine,” Kaz said.

Violet nodded, thankful. “Okay.”

“But whatever it is, it will not last long, and then we’ll be back to our normal again. Yes?”

Maybe that was the problem.

Maybe their normal was just constant chaos.