Page 49 of Devil's Vows

“Oh, I’m sorry,” I say, not sure what else to say.

“So Papa is also sad,” Katya says. “But we’re not sad,” she adds, and twists out of my hold to climb up the slide.

There she goes, just being a child with no concept yet of loss and heartache and how cruel the world can really be. I have no clue who Dimitri is, but he was clearly close to Milana, close to Ivan, becausePapais sad, too.

Gonecan mean so many things. Dimitri was Milana’s boyfriend and they broke up? Ivan’s friend? I bite my lip, my mind racing. Could be Dimitri is dead.

It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask who Dimitri was to Milana and what happened to their relationship, but these girls won’t know, and it isn’t fair on them to pry. My thoughts wind back toDedyulya,Ivan’s dad, the old Pakhan. I’m still pondering if he would be in a hospital or care home, because nobody has mentioned anything to me…

Wait. Matteo mentioned that the Petrov patriarch, the old Pakhan, had retired to Hawai'i. To play golf. Fit as a fiddle.

Something’s not adding up. All I know is Milana is hurtingand even on a mission to destroy herself, and I can’t stand by, pretending to be blind to it. Ivan is hurting, too, and from what I’ve seen of him, he would do anything for his daughters, for his sister. He would do anything and everything to take her pain away.

I watch the girls as they play, wishing I could do more, that I could split myself in two and go talk to her and help her, but my priority is Irisha and Katya, and I must stay with them.

When Yuri leans out of the conservatory’s door, calling me minutes later, I rush over, keeping an eye on my charges.

“I need your help with Milana,” he says urgently. “She needs to shower or bathe or whatever and get to bed. She hasn’t slept for days.”

“She needs a doctor, Yuri,” I say, kneeling where Milana’s crumpled to the floor.

“I know, but it isn’t possible. Nobody gets to see what goes on in this house, understand?”

That feeling of fingers wrapping around my throat intensifies, so I just nod, even if Milana’s words to me echo in every hollow space in the room:figured out you’re in a cage yet and you can’t get the fuck out?

25

GABI

“I’ll mind the girls,” Yuri instructs. “You’ll have to manage. Figure it out. Come on, let’s get her up, and I’ll help you in the direction of her room.”

Somewhere in the past days, something has tilted for Yuri, from complete suspicion to what feels like tentative trust. He wouldn’t ask me to help if he didn’t trust me just a little bit. I’m still on high alert around him, watching my every move, and it’s been exhausting. This change is welcome, though it still doesn’t give me the all-clear.

Together, we manage to get Milana on her feet, Yuri strong, Milana somewhat frail for a dead weight. She’s all fine-boned fragility, legs long and slim, shapely arms and elegant fingers flaying as she grips blindly for a hold.

“It’s not far, just down here,” Yuri says as we cross the kitchen to her quarters as fast as we can. “Through here,” he adds as we reach the door I was told tonever disturb under any circumstances. “I’ll be with the girls. Once she’s asleep, come to us.Blyad’, I still have shit to do today.”

I just nod, out of breath already as he eases his hold onMilana. Her head bobs and I support her with an arm around her back, leaning my hip into her body to keep her upright.

“The second door is her bedroom. The rest is all her suite, studio, and so on.”

“Okay.” I brace myself for the last haul. Yuri could have made the distance, but the girls can’t be left alone. Not on an estate where men with machine guns prowl around.

As he rushes off, and I take a tentative first step, Milana’s head sways as she drags her feet.

“Oh, fucking god,” she grunts. “I’m going to be so fucking sick.”

“No, you’re not,” I bark back, keeping her as upright as possible. I’m not cleaning that up for anybody. “Not until you’re in the bathroom. I won’t have it.”

Kids I get, they can’t help getting sick, but this is self-inflicted.

“Hurry,” Milana slurs on a dark, drunk chuckle. “You gotta…drag. Drag my sorry ass… there.”

“Itisa sorry ass,” I reprimand her. Ivan has too much on his plate; he can’t deal with Milana, too. His own sister is hurting him. I can’t understand where this protective flame for Ivan bursts out from me, but it’s hot and ablaze. “Setting this example to Ivan’s girls! What must they be thinking?”

“That I am a terrible drunk?” she whines, swinging between highs and lows. “Worse than their mommy?” She heaves. “Oh, god, nope. Nope…nope… That one took the cake.”

I know nothing about what shredded this family to pieces. I know nothing about Milana or Ivan’s dead wife. As an outsider, I don’t have the emotional baggage this family carries. But I’ve seen women arrive at all the convents I’ve stayed at, seeking refuge from abusive husbands and partners. For all I know, Milana is still recovering from a toxic relationship, and this is the reason why Ivan wants her here, to protect her from some Russian fucker. I can totally get on board with that.