Leveled: A Novella (Saints of Denver #0.5)(19)

I stilled. “Wait, what?” Well, that had the desired effect. I shot out of bed. “I’m good. I’m fine. I just need…” My brain had yet to awaken with my body. “I don’t know. I need something.”

“Coffee,” he supplied.

I could have kissed him. “Yes.” This came out in a long whisper.

“Already have a pot brewing. Maybe a shower would help.”

He was right, of course.

Opening my eyes as wide as I could, I dragged my feet toward the bathroom. He called after me, “I’ll be downstairs.” As I shut the door, he reminded, “Don’t lock the door, mouse. I’d hate for you to fall asleep and drown in there.”

I scoffed, but didn’t bother bringing the sass. Rather, I rolled my eyes, clipped my newly straightened hair up, and jumped under the warm spray, careful not to wet my face. Once I was awake, I soaped up, rinsed off, and stepped out.

This house was like one giant, warm hug.

The bed was snug. The shower was toasty. The bathroom lights heated my naked body, drying me as a stood there, soaking it up like sunlight. It was like a five-star hotel. Or so I imagined one would be like. I’d never actually stayed at a hotel before, let alone one that was five stars.

As I stood there naked, I thought about Lev and why he brought me here. I had yet to figure him out. He seemed genuine in his gesture, but my history had told me that you never got something for nothing.

I was mentally ready for the ball to drop.

Having placed my clothes in the bathroom that afternoon before my nap, I dressed in what I had on when I returned from my shopping expedition with Nas. Taking the clip out of my hair, I brushed it gently, as per the instructions of the hairdresser; otherwise, I was destined for frizz. Apparently. Whatever the heck that meant.

My makeup still looked good. I was surprised by how much makeup was applied to my face to get the ‘natural’ look. I laughed to myself. It really was silly.

As we’d left the beauty salon and made it back to the car, Nas had handed me a small bag. With my brow furrowed, I peeked inside.

All the expensive makeup that had been used on my face by the beautician was neatly stacked at the bottom.

“Wha—” I gaped at her. “Why?”

She shrugged. “It looks good on you, and you’re not going to be able to get the same effect with the cheap stuff we bought earlier.” She spotted my obvious discomfort and tried to ease it. “You don’t have to use it, but I can’t return it. I’d like for you to use it.”

I was still unsure.

She tried another route and attempted to look bored. “Besides, the club has a reputation for some of the most beautiful faces in the country.” She side-eyed me. “You’ll pull down that standard with your shitty makeup.”

I smiled then. “Thank you, Nastasia.”

She returned it. “You’re welcome, Mina.”

Holding my heels in my hand, I came down the stairs and found Lev holding Lidiya on his hip as he poured two cups of coffee. She babbled, gripping his lapel in her tiny fist, and he kissed the top of her head.

I cleared my throat at the door, not wanting to interrupt. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. Mirella will be here in a few minutes.” He answered my unasked question, “Lidiya’s nanny. You’ll be seeing a lot of her.” He handed me one of the coffee cups. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know how you took it.”

“Straight up black,” I uttered, taking the cup with a smile of thanks. I sipped at it slowly and it was wonderful. I couldn’t help watching the chubby, long-lashed little girl. My chest tightened in awe. “She’s adorable, Lev.”

He pulled back to look down at his daughter. His soft response nearly had me swooning in a dead faint. “She is my life.”

Warmth flooded me, leaving me in a haze of wonder. What had I done so well in my life that I’d come across Lev Leokov? Whatever it was, I was thankful for it.

The little girl turned and, finally spotting me, gabbed. “Zhena. Zhena. Zhena.”

My nose bunched with my smile. “What is she saying?”

Lev watched me closely. “She doesn’t know your name. She’s calling you her version of ‘lady’ in Russian.”

“Oh, so you’re Russian then?” I asked stupidly.

Patiently, Lev responded, and I commended him on not calling me a dumbass. “Yes, from both my father and mother’s sides.”

“Oh, cool,” I said. And what followed was a long, awkward silence.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, Lev asked, “Where is your family, Mina?”

My response was curt. “Dead. I’m an orphan. I didn’t know my father. My mother died when I was twelve. My grandmother didn’t want me, and so I went into foster care. I ran away when I was seventeen.”

Affected by my sudden change of manner, Lev whispered, “Okay,” and it sounded off. Almost childlike.

The door opened suddenly, and a gaggle of people came through it, conversing loudly and openly.

Nastasia came in first, face red, lips tight, arguing with the man behind her. “I don’t give a shit who she was, Vik.”

The man, who I easily guessed was Viktor, came in behind her, grinning like a Cheshire cat. “Sure you do, baby.”