Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 66833 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 334(@200wpm)___ 267(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66833 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 334(@200wpm)___ 267(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
I’m not surprised, but I’m definitely excited.
I can call or message whomever I wish. Like my brothers. And Chloe. And my college friends. And Natasha back home.
Holy shit, I can even reach out to Birgit if I find her info.
I start by firing off a text to Konstantin and Valery to let them know I’m all right and have a phone. Then I do the same with Nikolai and Chloe.
My text to her has barely gone out when her video call request shows up, with Slava’s little face—a copy of Nikolai’s when he was a child—filling most of the screen.
My chest squeezes.
My nephew. I’ve missed him so much.
“Slavochka!” I grin so widely my ears hurt. “How are you?”
I’m speaking Russian, but the reply that comes my way in a high, pure child’s voice is in English. “I’m fine.”
I gasp and switch to English. “Wow, look who’s become a little American!”
Chloe’s face appears next to Slava’s. “He’s gotten so, so good at English,” she says proudly. “We’re actually starting to work on his Russian so he doesn’t forget it, as he’s developed a definite preference for English. Oh, and he’s learning to read in both languages now.”
I gasp again, more dramatically. “You’re reading in both languages? Slava, that’s amazing!”
My nephew puffs out his cheeks. “I can already do three-letter words. And bigger in Russian.”
“Longer,” Chloe corrects. “You can read longer words in Russian.”
“Longer,” Slava repeats obediently, and I marvel at how much he’s changed and matured since Nikolai stole him from Boris Leonov and brought him to Idaho. Even in the couple of months since I’ve been gone, my nephew seems to have undergone a transformation, losing even more of his shyness and reticence, becoming more like a little adult.
“Where’s Nikolai?” I ask Chloe as Slava disappears from view—likely off to play. “Or is it just the two of you hanging out this evening?”
“Nikolai is out with the guards, working on a few things.” She doesn’t expound on it, and I understand why. Ever since Alexei’s attack on my brother’s compound, Nikolai has been obsessed with beefing up their security. Chloe told me a little about his efforts when they visited, and I definitely approve.
The Leonovs should have no reason to attack Nikolai again, but the same thing can’t be said for our other enemies. Of course, that first bit assumes I stay with my husband.
“So I heard the good news,” Chloe says, a bright smile lighting up her pretty face. “You’re in remission!”
“I am.” I beam back. “They’ll be monitoring me closely for a while, but no more treatments unless… you know.”
“Right.” She tilts her head. “Can you talk?”
We are talking, but that’s not what she means.
“Alexei is not here,” I say openly. “But I’m pretty sure this phone—and all my communications—will be monitored.”
And I don’t care if Alexei knows that I know that.
Chloe nods, unsurprised. “Just tell me then… What are you going to do now that you’re out of treatment? Are you returning to Moscow or staying in Geneva for a bit?”
Good question. “I still need to discuss that with Alexei. He’s actually waiting for me to have breakfast, so we’ll catch up some more later, okay?”
“Okay. I’ll tell Nikolai you called. He’ll be very happy to hear you’re doing well.”
I blow her an air kiss and disconnect. Valery’s call request is already on my screen, and one from Konstantin appears a second later. I decline them both, as my need for the bathroom is growing more urgent.
I’ll talk to them as soon as I’m done with my morning routine.
When I finally enter the kitchen after having reassured both Konstantin and Valery that I’m fine and don’t need their help, Alexei is waiting for me, a big jar filled with a green smoothie in his hand.
“Drink this,” he orders, handing it to me.
I sniff the contents of the jar. “What’s in it?”
“Everything your body needs to recover. A dietician I consulted gave me the recipe, along with the rest of your meal plan.”
“I have a meal plan?”
“You do.” His dark eyes glint. “Now drink up.”
Gingerly, I take a sip. It’s not bad. A little sweet, more than a little grassy, and generally very healthy tasting. It’s not what I would’ve chosen this morning, but since I’m not nauseated, I can stomach it.
My body probably does need the extra vitamins or whatever.
Alexei watches intently as I drain the jar, and then he makes me eat a piece of sprouted whole-grain toast with white-bean hummus—for the plant-based protein, he explains. Apparently, a whole-food plant-based diet is best for cancer prevention and remission maintenance, so that’s what I will be eating going forward.
“Uh-huh.” Why am I not surprised that it’s a decree and not a request? “And you’re going to be eating all those plants alongside me?”
Alexei doesn’t bat an eye. “If it helps you.” He gestures to the sink, where I spot an empty jar and a small plate waiting to be washed. “I had the smoothie and the toast when I woke up. Wanted to make sure I got the recipes right for you.”