Gilded Tears: A Russian Mafia Romance (Kovalyov Bratva Book 2) by Nicole Fox (novels to read for beginners txt) 📗

And my nerves are as unsettled as ever.

My fingers twitch. I know then what I need, though it’s been so long that I wonder if I’ve lost the touch. I don’t know where I’d get that solution anyway, so I just put it out of mind.

Maybe a walk might help clear my head instead.

As I grab my coat, it strikes me that I have never been a part from Phoenix for even a single moment since his birth.

I’ve never had the option of taking some time for myself because there was no one I trusted enough to leave Phoenix with.

I peer through to the room and see that Artem and Phoenix are still fast asleep. Phoenix’s last feeding was an hour ago and he had nursed well, which means he shouldn’t get hungry for another two hours at least.

I shrug my coat on and slip out of the apartment. I feel a fierce sense of independence as I walk down the stairs.

It’s alarming how amazing it feels to be out on my own, no baby strapped to my chest or my boob.

For the first time in months, I feel like a real human being. And every time a tiny pang of guilt arises, I just close my eyes and picture my son nestled against his father.

Right where they both belong.

I walk down the lonely street that leads to the apartment and take a sharp right towards the main drag of town.

People are just filing out of their homes on their way to work. I find myself smiling at strangers. It’s ridiculous how happy I am right now.

Because Artem’s back.

Because I feel like myself again.

Because it seems like maybe—just maybe—the world isn’t as cruel as I was starting to believe it was.

I haven’t really made a conscious decision about where to go, but when I turn the corner and see the music store down the road, I feel the tug of fate.

Like I had a destination in mind all along. Or that the universe had a destination in mind for me.

I’m not sure which of those options I like better.

I cross the street, slip inside the store, and I’m hit at once with the sensual sounds of classical music and a romantic, floral scent that complements it perfectly.

I close my eyes and stand there for a second. It’s been how long since I’ve had an instrument underneath my fingers?

Too long. Way too long.

I remember Tamara lying in the sun on the beach during one of her trips down to Mexico. “Isn’t this amazing?” she’d murmured to me. “To just lie in the sun and soak it all up?”

That’s how I feel in this store. Like I’m soaking up life, nature, beauty.

It’s incredible.

I don’t open my eyes until I start to sense that I’m being watched. When I do, I see a little girl crouched behind the grand piano and staring at me with that open, child-like curiosity.

I’ve seen her before. She’s here most mornings and evenings with her parents, who own the store. Whenever I walk past this shop, she’s here.

“I know you,” she mumbles to me.

“Do you?” I ask with a warm smile.

She has mousy brown hair that’s been braided into pigtails and tied together with neon pink scrunchies. Bright, observant eyes. A generous double helping of freckles.

“You walk by here all the time,” she says, as if she’s informing me of that fact.

“I do,” I chuckle. “I really like this store. It smells nice.”

She smiles shyly. “I’m Katie.”

“I’m Esme.”

“Do you play any instruments?” Katie asks.

“Yes,” I tell her. “Piano.”

“Really?” she asks. Her eyes go wide with renewed interest. “I just started to learn, but it’s really hard.”

“It can be,” I concede. “Why don’t you show me what you’ve learned?”

She twists back and forth, hands tucked behind her.

“I bet you’re really good,” I coax. “Come here. Pop up on the bench and teach me something.”

She can’t resist that. With a smile, she scurries around the piano. We settle down on the bench together.

But Katie loses her nerve suddenly. She glances up at me, chin wobbling like she might cry.

“Tell you what,” I reassure her, “I’ll go first. Okay?”

She nods, a little appeased by that.

I glance up and notice the man standing in the opposite corner of the store. He’s got the same mousy brown hair as Katie, though it’s wispier than his daughter’s.

He meets my eye, and gives me a small nod of encouragement. so I assume it’s okay for me to play his piano.

I turn my attention back to the instrument.

It feels so good to have my hands poised over piano keys again. I didn’t realize I’d missed it this much. It’s like I can breathe again for the first time in a long time.

I stroke the first key and it’s like I’m floating away.

Everything nonessential fades.

There’s only me and the music.

I play the Nocturnes from Chopin and I let each note take me deeper and deeper, farther and farther, higher and higher.

Taking me away to a time when I was still naïve enough to believe that one day, life might be as simple as the next chord.

I remember a time when I could sit in front of my piano and play every day, when I still dreamed of playing piano in concerts all over the world.

I remember a time when my brother was still my hero, my biggest motivator, and my biggest fan…

Many Years Ago

The keys clang. Wrong note. I yell in frustration.

“What’s the matter, little bird?”

I scowl and turn to face him. Cesar is standing by the window, looking at me with amusement.

“I can’t get it right.”

“You will,” he tells me confidently. “You just need to practice.”

“It’s too hard.”

“I don’t doubt it,” he replies. “Which will make it all the more impressive when you master it.”

I sigh and kick into thin air. My legs don’t quite reach the ground. That in and of itself is frustrating.

“Papa wants me to play for his guests next week,” I admit.

“Ah.”

“I’m not good enough,” I say sheepishly. “If I make