“You know,” she says when I don’t answer for a while, “it makes me so happy to see you boys like this. This is what Yakov and Vitaly should have been.”
“They got along fine,” I snap.
She sighs. “You were a child when Yakov died. Too young to remember your uncle and certainly too young to remember what his relationship with your father was like.”
“Then tell us.”
“Your father was the more capable leader—”
“Clearly,” Bogdan scoffs.
Mama continues as though no one has interrupted. “But he was overly ambitious. Overly greedy. Overly cruel.”
“He was the Krestnyy Otets,” I say, defending him out of instinct and obligation. “He had to be all those things.”
“You two have only ever known your father as don. But he was not the Krestnyy Otets back then. He was supposed to support Yakov, guide him, advise him… but always, always follow him. That last part, he didn’t do so well. He pushed and challenged and fought when it was not his place to do so.”
“Because Yakov was breaking the Bratva down for parts!” Bogdan exclaims.
Mama nods. “And that was your uncle’s fatal mistake. He saw your father’s ambitions as ugly. He wanted a simpler life. And because of that, he gave his enemies the means to attack him. They were both proud, stubborn men. And they both died for it.”
“Do you ever miss him?” Bogdan asks into the silence.
The question lingers there for a moment in search of an answer.
“Of course I miss him,” Mama replies. “Of course I do.”
Bogdan and I exchange a glance. Sometimes, it’s hard to know where Mama’s thoughts are. It’s harder still to pull her out of them.
I thought she’d have freedom once our father was gone. But apparently she’s trapped by her own past. Her own regrets.
She shakes her head as if to clear unwelcome thoughts and turns her gaze on me again. “Isaak, do you have feelings for the girl?”
If I lie, she’ll know. They both will.
“She… fascinates me,” I admit. “I thought that conversation we had six years ago was a fluke. But we’ve talked since I brought her back here. She still fascinates me.”
“I’ve never heard you say that about any woman before,” Mama points out.
“It doesn’t mean anything. I’m just curious about her. Especially because of how involved she was with Maxim. She was a part of his life for a year and a half.”
“And has she told you anything useful?”
“Nothing yet.”
“What makes you think she has anything worthwhile to give you?” Bogdan asks, sitting on my desk and hiking one leg up.
“I guess I’ll find out. One thing I know for sure: Maxim took a lot of trouble to locate Camila. Then he wooed her aggressively. He wouldn’t take no for an answer. Which means he’s not going to just surrender her to me without a fight.”
“You’re anticipating an attack?” Mama asks.
“Most definitely.”
She takes a deep breath. “I haven’t seen Maxim in years. He was a sweet boy, you know.”
“Stop getting sentimental on us now, Mama,” Bogdan groans. “He betrayed us all by killing Papa. He has to pay for that.”
She looks down. I can’t help noticing how small she looks all of a sudden. So fragile.
“I’m going to take a room on the second floor,” she tells both of us.
“You’re staying here?” I ask.
She gives me a knowing smile. “I am welcome, aren’t I, Isaak?”
“Of course,” I say instantly. Even a millisecond of hesitation will earn me endless grief.
She smiles. “Thank you, my boy. Are we having dinner together as a family?”
“Oh no, Mama,” Bogdan interjects evilly. “Isaak only has dinner with his wife now. Followed by helicopter rides around the city.”
Little shit.
Mama doesn’t comment at all.
She nods, purses her lips, and then disappears down the hall. As soon as she’s gone, I turn to Bogdan and smash him in the shoulder with a punch.
He stumbles backwards. “Fuck!” he complains. “You didn’t hold back.”
“I wasn’t trying to.”
“It’s not a big deal,” Bogdan says, rolling his eyes at me. “It’s just Mama.”
That’s the thing about my little brother: he can’t fathom secrets among the people he trusts most. I know better.
Sometimes, the ones you love are hiding the most important secrets of all of them.
“Bogdan, do you ever get the feeling that she knows more than she lets on?”
He frowns, instantly uncomfortable with the question. “About what?”
“About everything,” I muse. “About Father and Yakov. About Svetlana.”
“Svetlana? What does she have to do with this?”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” I growl. “You are not that na?ve, so stop pretending. She’s the one who spread the rumor that Papa was the one that killed Yakov. And I’m starting to think Svetlana is more of a player than we initially suspected.”
“Why do you say that?” Bogdan asks, perking up a little.
“Camila mentioned that she was questioned by an older woman when she was taken six years ago. Before the cops rescued her from the basement cell of that fucking warehouse.”
“Fuck. You think that was Svetlana?”
“Who else could it be? She’s been the driving force behind Maxim’s motives since he was old enough to hold a gun. It would make sense that she’s involved somehow.”
“So Camila is giving you good information after all, eh?”
“I told you bringing her here had a purpose.”
“Yeah,” Bogdan says, thrusting his hips and lolling his tongue out suggestively. “That’s definitely the purpose you had in mind.”
“You’re lucky we’re blood,” I remind him icily. “Otherwise, you’d have been buried at the bottom of a river a long time ago.”
Bogdan laughs. “What good is a lucky break like that if I don’t use it?”
I roll my eyes and head for the door. “Contact our spies,” I tell him. “Ask if they’ve got any leads on Maxim or any of his men. He’s been quiet so far, but that’s only because he’s planning something.”
“Got it, boss. Say hi to the ol’ ball and chain for me.”
I give him the middle finger and set off towards Camila’s room.
I pause at her door when I hear her speak. She’s talking softly, secretively, so I can’t catch whole sentences. But I can make out bits and pieces. Only then does it strike me that she’s probably having her daily phone call with her sister.
“Okay… Okay… No, he doesn’t know… Listen, I love you… I love you so, so much.”
Her tone is heartfelt. And it sticks in my head like a fucking leech that won’t let go.
Who is she talking to?
Because it sure as hell isn’t her sister.
I try and pick out more of the conversation, but she’s saying goodbye already.
“Fuck,” I growl, stepping back from the door.
Jealousy zips through my body as my mind plays her parting words.
I love you, so, so much.
Is it possible that she was just talking to Maxim?
Is it possible that she’s playing me for a fool?
Is it possible that her loyalties remain with him?
She spent more than a year of her life with the man. She’d fucking agreed to marry the man. I’d convinced myself that her decision had been motivated by a desperation to lead a different kind of life.