đNicole
The sight of Papa, large and commanding, with his face a mask of primal fury, was enough to break the terrifying paralysis I was in. With the fear of having landed Sergei in trouble, I launched myself at him, running until I was buried in his expensive suit, inhaling the familiar scent of tobacco and safety.
He forgot his anger immediately. His arms locked around me in a fierce hug. "Vsyo v poryadke?" he rumbled, his voice rough with panic.
(Vsyo v poryadke?: Everything is fine?)
I just nodded, clinging to him like a life raft. He finally pulled me back, holding me at arm's length, visually checking every inch of me.
"Why did you leave the house, malyshka?" he asked, his Russian soft now.
(Malyshka: baby girl)
"Papa, mne bylo skuchno," I whispered back, knowing that was the only excuse that ever worked on him.
(Mne bylo skuchno: I was bored.)
His eyes, still sharp, landed on Sergei. I rushed to speak before he could open his mouth, saving Sergei.
