“I know.” I know it better than Mira.
“So stop trying to make her change by taking things away from her,” she says. “Why not give her things she loves instead?”
“What do you think I’m doing?” I press my fists to the cool marble counter. “What is this dinner? This whole place?”
“She didn’t choose this, you did. If you give a little, maybe she’ll give a little.”
“This is the lawyer talking?” Mira’s a lawyer, starting a new practice in Chicago these days. She loves the law. Not so convenient for Aleksio, but their love is strong.
“No, it’s your friend talking, telling you not to be an asshole. Think about letting me call her people at least. Tito says she gave him the number. I could call and let them know she’s okay.”
I say nothing.
“Maybe letting those sisters know she’s okay will help her relax. You want her to let go of that life, but don’t you see? Worry makes her cling. Yanking things away makes her hold tightly.”
“I know,” I grumble. “Okay, do it. I’ll send in Tito. And Mischa in case you need translation.”
“Good man.”
I storm out feeling angry and upset. “Dessert,” I say, setting down the plate in the waning candlelight. I tell Tito and Mischa that Mira wants them.
Yuri and Pityr are excited. We didn’t so much love orehi—far too sweet for us—but we would tease Tanechka about it. We start passing around the plate. Everybody takes one or two. I set three on the small side plate in front of Tanechka.
“Are these Petrovsky’s?” Pityr asks.
“Yes,” I say. All of us fight not to stare at Tanechka. She doesn’t recognize the orehi, though. This I can see.
Mira and Mischa come out a few minutes later. Mira announces she called Tanechka’s convent.
Tanechka stands, stunned. “Will you let me speak to them?”
“I hung up, but Mother Olga has a message for you. They’re all healthy and well, and something about a rooster looking forward to seeing you.”
Tanechka tears up. “Petushik,” she whispers. “What else?”
“They’re happy to hear you’re okay, Tanechka. They were worried.”
Mischa nods. “They sounded good. Well.”
“What about the fighting on the border? The attacks—there was an old guard, and he was not so strong. You’re sure they’re okay?”
“It’s what they said.”
“They wouldn’t want to worry me. Did you tell them I want to talk to them? That I’m trying?”
Mira casts a glance at me, the ogre. “I told them that you wanted badly to talk to them and that you would, soon.”
“Thank you.”
I shove an orehi into my mouth. One small kindness. I couldn’t have shown this one small kindness to the woman I love?
I close my eyes, and I’m back at the edge of Dariali Gorge with her clinging onto me, the vast space below.
Predatel! I call her. Reminding myself why I must kill her. She betrayed the Bratva. A traitor.
She calls out to me as I shove her. Even as she falls, she reaches for me, terror and disbelief in her eyes. Her face is burned into my mind, into my dreams.
The talk rumbles on, but perhaps I’ve had too much to drink, because I feel only like weeping. The hatred for myself is so close to the surface, the hatred for what I did.
I should be happy that the beautiful brightness of her is back in the world, but it’s not enough for me, no. I watch the light waver on the thick red tablecloth.
“So delicious,” Tanechka says.
I look up to see her staring at her empty plate. Her gaze lights on the plate with the rest of the orehi. “Delicious.”
“Would you like more?
She looks down. She looks like she wants more. My heart pounds. Finally she waves her hand. “Gluttony,” she says softly.
Chapter Nine
Viktor
I let Tanechka have our bedroom—alone. I sleep in a guest bedroom, or at least I try to.
She comes down in the morning neat as a pin, still in her nun’s dress and head scarf. I leave her to herself, giving her space. She requests again to search for a Russian Orthodox church in town.
“No, Tanechka. There’s a limit to the ways I’ll indulge you.”
She regards me with her burning blue gaze. Only a matter of time until she tries to get out—I see this now.
I decide we’ll go on a picnic. We used to picnic in a park near a lake, and she liked it. Lake Michigan is larger and windier, but I think she’ll enjoy it.
Before I head out for supplies, I talk to Sander, one of our new guys, who’s stationed outside the door. We have plenty of money to hire new muscle like Sander. If they prove their loyalty, they’ll have a hand in the business our father built—once we take it back from Bloody Lazarus.
“Don’t let that nun costume fool you,” I tell Sander. “She’s every inch a killer under there.”
He nods. He understands, or at least he thinks he does. Nobody truly understands Tanechka.