How long had Kaz gone without any mention of Violet, but now it seemed like she was brought up every chance Vasily got. If he was meant to forget about her, pretend like she didn’t exist, that was hard to do when he was reminded of her often.
“Of course,” Kaz answered easily.
It wasn’t a lie, not really. He hadn’t expected to see her that morning, so he wasn’t seeking her out. That had to count for something.
Vasily looked skeptical, but ultimately accepted his words. Changing the subject, he said, “Don’t forget tomorrow.”
On the third Tuesday of every month, there was a meeting between Vasily, and the higher-ranking members of the Bratva, their tribute of sorts, where money changed hands and any concerns were addressed. If there was one thing Kaz wouldn’t forget, it was the meeting. Attendance was mandatory, and only once had he seen what happened when you were late—that man still had a limp.
“No worries. We’ll be there.”
It didn’t matter that Vasily and Ruslan were at odds. Ruslan was still expected to show.
“Rus! You made it!”
Kaz turned just in time to see Nika hurrying across the backyard, throwing herself at Ruslan as he stepped down to their level. Vera was right behind him, along with Irina, and a number of caterers that were bringing out the last of the food.
In a way, Ruslan had come out prepared with his own little army.
Vasily wouldn’t cause a scene, not with the number of people at the party, and especially not with Irina, the twins, and Vera in attendance—he saved his savagery for when they weren’t around.
Dina was right behind her sister, barreling into Ruslan as he caught them easily, his lips moving, though Kaz couldn’t make out what he was saying.
Vasily’s scowl grew worse as he looked over at his eldest son, and with fire in his eyes, he took a step in their direction, as though he meant to pull them apart if he had to.
“Ah, I wouldn’t do that,” Kaz said easily, not taking his eyes off his siblings.
“You can’t save him from me, Kazimir,” Vasily returned in a dark voice. “You shouldn’t try.”
Kaz nodded, his lips turning down at the corners. “Maybe so, but then who would save you from Vera?”
Vasily had chosen wisely in a wife. She was quiet, knew when not to ask questions, and kept her opinions of how he treated their children to himself—even the twins took after her in their quiet manner.
But Vera, on the other hand, she didn’t bend to Vasily’s whims. If she thought he was wrong, and that was more often than not, she called him out on it, but only in regards to his parenting. When it came to the Bratva, she let him run it as he saw fit.
Unlike with Kaz, Vasily was careful to mind his words around Vera in regards to Ruslan. Maybe he was trying to mend the relationship with his eldest daughter, but even Kaz knew that he wouldn’t be able to fix something that wasn’t there.
“Give him today,” Kaz said from his position at his father’s side. “Tomorrow, you can hate him again.”
For the first time in what felt like ages, Kaz thought he saw his brother’s shoulders relax, like the weight of his burdens had finally been lifted.
... if only for a short while.
Violet kept her attention focused entirely on the textbook in her hands, and not her father sitting across the room behind his large desk. She knew he was watching her, he always had at least one eye on her.
Earlier in the day, her father had called with a simple request for her to come over and have lunch with him. He offered nothing more when he called, and made it clear his request was not up for debate. Violet dropped the lunch plans she had with Amelia and Nicole, and found a driver waiting outside of her Manhattan condo, ready to drive her across the city to Amityville.
After eating lunch with her father, Alberto invited Violet up to his office to sit and talk for a while. She ended up on the couch studying while her father scribbled on papers in a folder. Very little talking was being done at all.
It was unnerving.
“How has Gee been treating you?” Alberto asked.
Violet finally lifted her gaze from her reading, and found her father had dropped the pen he had been writing with. Gee was her driver—her new not-so-much best friend.
“Fine, Daddy.”
“He says you’ve been following the rules and only staying in the upper part of Brooklyn.”
Violet shrugged. “That’s what you wanted.”
“Only when he drives you, right?” Alberto pressed.
“Of course.”
She was not planning to defy her father again. Her lesson was well learned. Even driving anywhere now was impossible to do by herself, because Gee had been given the second set of keys to her car and was not permitted to hand them back to her until her father allowed it.