Page 36

36

ROMAN

“ I t’s dangerous.” Dimitry taps his fingers impatiently on the steering wheel of the Maybach. We’re in the parking lot of the Russian Cultural Center, amid a milling crowd of costumed children and anxious parents. “If what you say is true, the Orlovs could be anywhere. Today could turn into a goddamn bloodbath, Roman.”

“Which is why every man we’ve got is doing security detail.” My eyes follow Lucia and the children as they step out of the car ahead of us. Luis holds the door open, scanning the crowd cautiously.

There are two other cars, one ahead and one behind us, from which men have already exited and are now discreetly herding my family into the center. Pavel glances at the Maybach, his bearded face anxious. He is made for scanning data, not crowds. And he knows damn well that today’s little excursion is way out of his comfort zone.

But I want him here, just as I want the hidden guns and watching eyes of my vor . I doubt the Orlovs will make a move in broad daylight. But it isn’t just them who worry me.

“Nikolai is coming today,” I tell Dimitry as we exit the car. Lucia is twenty paces away. She’s wearing an understated white linen dress teamed with tan mules. It’s an elegant, simple outfit that nonetheless does nothing to hide the sensual curves of her body.

Christ, I want her.

It took all my self-control not to summon her to the penthouse last night. I managed it partly because I needed to organize security for today and partly because I suspect she faced a very challenging conversation with her father after we left the villa. I’d give quite a lot to know what was said between them, but for now, at least, other problems have superseded my curiosity.

“Why the fuck is Nikolai coming?” Dimitry’s tone is thick with disgust. “Pavel successfully tracked that trojan back to Pillars. Even if he doesn’t know who uploaded it yet, it was certainly done with Nikolai’s permission. That little mudak needs to be kept as far away from your family as possible.”

“And if he gets even a hint that I’m keeping him away, our best chance of discovering what he’s actually doing will be gone.”

Dimitry glances curiously at me. “You’re oddly calm for a man facing a possible shoot-out and family betrayal.”

I know I am, and he’s right: it is odd. But since my conversation with Lucia’s father, I’ve been existing in the edgy, expectant vacuum that precedes an eruption. I can feel the storm coming. There are clouds hovering over every aspect of my life: my burgeoning relationships with Lucia, her father, and my godchildren; the trojan virus attacking Mercura; the journalist who has disappeared, seemingly into thin air; and above all, in the news that the Orlovs might be somewhere close.

I’m existing in the stillness before the chaos.

All I can do is watch, wait, and prepare.

I might look calm. Inside, however, I’m like bottled lightning—just waiting for the right time to strike.

“I’m going to join the kids. Keep your phone close.”

Dimitry’s indignant expression makes me grin as I turn toward the center.

Inside the crowded auditorium the noise is deafening. Pavel is off in the corner with Mickey, already deep in conversation. Seeing me come in, Mickey shoots me one of his rare smiles and gives me a thumbs-up. I can’t help but feel rather pleased by that. It’s only been a day, but suddenly the kids don’t seem to see me as enemy number one anymore.

A bawling child runs past me, chased by a harried-looking parent. “How the fuck do teachers do it,” I mutter to Lucia as I catch up with her.

“I’m pretty sure they drink a lot.” She smiles, adjusting Masha’s costume. Somehow I feel calmer just being close to her.

Dangerous, Borovsky, dangerous.

This whole domestic arrangement is dangerous, and not just because of the chaotic crowd. I’m getting involved, way more than I ever intended, both with Lucia and the kids. And at the same time, it’s a seductive danger, the kind that reaches out with the comforting smell of alfajores and afternoon dinners and lulls me into believing it’s a life I could actually live.

Get your head back in the game.

“You’re wearing a mask, right?” I say, scanning the crowd.

“I’ve got it.” Ofelia pushes through the crowd, waving two lion masks. “One for Luce, one for me.”

“Lions,” I say dryly, eyeing the masks, “and cacti? The mystery of Golgotha gets more mysterious with every passing moment.”

“Hush.” Lucia elbows me warningly. “The teacher slash director is in earshot. It’s her baby, so be nice.”

I roll my eyes. Ofelia, looking between us, giggles.

By the time the floats are arrayed and the children in place on them, I’m in as much need of a drink as I am of blissful silence. “Don’t you dare,” Lucia hisses, seeing me look longingly toward the bar, where several of the fathers have already decamped. “You will walk beside the float with Ofelia and watch every inch of the cactus dance.”

“Who’s employing who?” I grumble, but I let Ofelia take my hand anyway. She leads me behind Lucia through the crowds to Masha’s float. Lucia kneels down behind a clump of fake grass right behind Masha, who keeps turning around to talk to her, which leads to Lucia repeatedly turning Masha back in the right direction.

It’s exactly the kind of scene I’ve spent years staying the fuck away from. And yet for some reason, I like being here. Most of all, I like being here with Lucia.

Better make the most of it. There’s only four and half months left of that contract.

I shift uncomfortably. I don’t like thinking about that fucking contract. Increasingly, even remembering it makes me feel slightly sick. I particularly don’t like thinking that goddamn piece of paper is the only reason Lucia’s here.

“Masha!” Ofelia waves at her sister, and Masha beams from the small round hole in her cactus costume. On the front float, Mickey, with his headphones on and face fixed in concentration, hits a button, and the music begins. Pavel, beside him, claps him on the shoulder and gives me an extremely nerdy thumbs-up. Mickey follows the direction of Pavel’s gesture and sees me. I wave, returning Pavel’s dorky thumbs-up, and Mickeys face lights up in a brief flash of surprised pleasure before he turns back to his laptop. The screen on the back of his float explodes in color and then begins a complicated series of psychedelic patterns. I can’t help but admire his concentration. The kid’s barely fourteen, and he’s coordinating a complex light and sound show with timings for over fifty acts. There’s a quiet certainty about the way he conducts himself, a solemn maturity, that impresses me, but he also has his father’s kindness. Watching him bestow a rare smile on an anxious girl who has the wires mixed up, gently untangling them for her, I think that Mikhail would be extremely proud of the young man his son is becoming.

Ofelia is running beside the float, vigorously repeating the movements for the cactus dance so that Masha can copy her. Between Ofelia and Lucia, Masha manages to remain in position and at least look like she vaguely knows some of the choreography.

“Why are there lions and a fucking cactus in an Easter parade?” Dimitry mutters, coming alongside me.

“No idea. Still haven’t made sense of it. Just cheer like you understand,” I say out of the corner of my mouth, waving and smiling at Masha.

“There’s a lot of cameras.” He nods at a journalist running alongside the floats on the other side of the road. There’s also the usual barrage of cell phones being held up, filming the entire thing. I was right the first time. The entire event is fucking security nightmare. Despite my men scattered through the crowd and walking close to the float and to Ofelia, I don’t like it. I don’t like it at all.

“Any sign of our friend Lance yet?” I scan the crowd, looking for the English bastard’s face.

“Nope.” Dimitry shakes his head. “But there’s an incoming to your left that’s almost as much fun. Christ.” He inclines his head to where Nikolai, hair slicked back, flanked by more muscle than a Kardashian, dripping ostentatious gold and wearing a shiny tracksuit and sneakers, is making his way through the crowd toward us. “What did he do, go shopping at Gangsters“R”Us?”

“Roman!” Nikolai shouts above the music, giving me an oily smile.

He throws his cigarette to the ground as he approaches, almost stubbing it out on the foot of a small child.

“Nikolai.” I swallow my distaste. “Subtle,” I say, nodding at the muscle clustered around him.

“Crowds aren’t safe, Roman, you know that.” Something about the way he says it, a slightly cocky edge, makes my unease grow.

“Expecting trouble, Nicky?” I keep my eyes on Masha’s float as I speak, watching Lucia’s crouched figure and the little dancing cactus. I move slightly closer, so I’m barely a pace from where Ofelia is running alongside.

“I’m like a Boy Scout, Roman. Always prepared.”

Oh, this fucker is definitely up to something.

“I was surprised you decided to come today.” I speak without looking at him.

“I could say the same about you.” Nikolai has fallen in step beside me. I move aside, putting a little distance between us and getting even closer to the float. “I wasn’t aware you were so dedicated to my nephew and nieces.” He shoots me a sideways glance, but I don’t take the bait.

He should take the hint and leave it there.

But nobody ever accused Nicky of being smart.

“Or is it,” he says slyly, “that you just can’t stay away from that hot au pair you hired? Never pegged you for the type to fuck the help, Roman.”

I shoot Dimitry a brief look, but it’s unnecessary. He’s already moved to take my place next to Ofelia.

Twisting the ass end of Nikolai’s silky tracksuit bottoms high enough to make his voice squeak, I push him silently ahead of me through the crowd. His men are a moment too late to stop me, and by the time they wise up, my own have them well in hand.

Dumb fucks.

“That gun in your pants is in my hand now,” I murmur in Nikolai’s ear as I thrust him off the main road and into a side alley. “And if you think I won’t use it on you, fucking think again, Nicky. I’ve got plenty of reasons already. All I’m looking for right now is a good excuse.”

I spin him around and thrust him up against a brick wall. Two of my men have taken up guard at the end of the alley. “Get back to the float,” I order them sharply. “I’ve got this.”

“Boss.” One of them starts to argue, frowning.

“Fucking go,” I snarl. “If this is a distraction and my family suffers, you’ll pay for it. Understand? Go .”

They do.

“Now.” I get right up close to Nikolai’s face. “What the fuck do you think you’re playing at, Nicky?”

“What?” he whines. “I was just making a joke, Roman. I didn’t know you were so worked up over your nanny.”

“You seem to have an unhealthy fascination with my au pair, Nikolai. Why is that?”

He spits to one side. I slam him harder against the bricks, and he scowls. “There are a dozen agencies you could have hired a nanny from. Instead you hired some illegal blyat from a café. Who also just happens, apparently, to speak Russian. It’s a weird coincidence, you have to admit. Inger certainly thinks so,” he adds with a sly expression.

“Ah.” I fucking knew it. “So Inger has you doing her dirty work, now, Nicky?” I drop him to the ground and let go of him. “Taking orders from a woman? Tsk, tsk.” I wag a finger in his face. “I wonder what Yuri will think of that?”

His face tightens. “Inger and I just care about Mikhail’s children. About making sure they’re safe and that they get what they’re entitled to.”

I almost laugh aloud. “If Inger gave a single fuck about the kids, she’d have been here for the past two years, and for the fourteen before that. She’s never given a fuck about who I hire to look after her children, so I don’t know why she’s suddenly taking such an interest now. As for making sure they’re safe?” I crowd Nikolai until he’s hard up against the wall again. “Are you honestly questioning my ability to do that?”

I can see the fear in his eyes, but for once, he doesn’t back down. “You didn’t keep my brother safe,” he says. “Mikhail died—and you did nothing to stop it.”

For a moment I’m actually too stunned to react.

Then I punch Nikolai twice with full force, direct to the face.

He slumps to the ground, his nose bleeding profusely.

“How fucking dare you.” I’m so furious my voice shakes. “I yelled at Mikhail to get out of the driver seat the minute the ignition didn’t turn over. A dozen men heard me, and not all of them together could hold me back from pulling him out of the burning car. Mikhail was my goddamn brother. I’d have given my own life for his a hundred times over rather than lose him.”

“Ah, yes,” Nicky sneers, holding his nose. “The famous story of how you took a bullet for him. But that bullet worked out pretty well for you, Roman, didn’t it? Just like the raids seven years ago that put my father in prison. From Miami backstreets to a Spanish penthouse in less than twenty years. That must be some kind of fucking record.”

“Do you have a fucking death wish, Nikolai?” I stare at him, trying to work out what the hell is going on. “Where the fuck is all this coming from?”

He stares back at me, his mouth working, eyes darting this way and that. “I know you’ve got something going on in that software facility,” he says finally. “And there’s no way you started Hale without some kind of backing. After Otets went to prison, our business was shattered—so where did the money for Hale come from? And now you have Mikhail’s children, his heirs , locked up in your penthouse under your so-called protection .”

His tone has become more injured as he’s gone on, and when he speaks again, it’s with the petulant, spoiled tone that has always set my teeth on edge.

“You and Mikhail always shut me out. When I was younger, I didn’t understand enough to ask questions. And then at first, when you palmed me off with Pillars, I was too happy to actually have a part of the business that it didn’t occur to me to complain. But I’m Yuri’s son . I’m Mikhail’s brother. You’re not even family, Roman. And now you’re running an entire business in secret, and you don’t even trust me enough to tell me what it is. You control Mikhail’s legacy, not to mention his children. Put yourself in my shoes, Roman. Wouldn’t you be suspicious, too?”

His voice is a petulant whine by the time he finishes, and he stares sullenly at the ground. The raucous sounds of the parade are beginning to fade into the distance. The midday streets are quiet, all the shops closed, residents out watching the spectacle.

I could kill him now, and nobody need ever know it was me.

It’s fucking tempting, but I dismiss the thought as soon as I have it. Pain in my ass or not, Nicky is family, to both Yuri and the children. And family is family. Even if I’m technically not part of his, as he’s just made abundantly clear.

“I suppose you’re going to kill me now,” he says dully.

“It would be my right.” I glare at him. “I doubt even Yuri would question it if I did. He’s killed men for far less than the disgusting accusations you just made.”

But my mind is whirling as I speak. There’s something else going on here, something I can’t quite see. Nikolai isn’t smart enough to connect all these dots. Somebody is pulling his strings. If I want to find out who, I need to keep him alive, and at least pacified.

Tread carefully.

“You’re right, Nicky.” I deliberately speak in a calm, even tone. His head jerks up in surprise. “I haven’t involved you in the family business as much as I should have, but only because I thought you were happier running Pillars than wearing a suit in a corporate office. But of course you want to visit the software facility and understand what we’re building there. I can take you up to see it this week, if you like. I hadn’t realized you were interested in tech.”

Nikolai’s eyes narrow. “You’re trying to tell me it’s just a software company you’re running up there?”

“I’m not trying to tell you shit, Nicky.” I allow my impatience to show. “I’m offering to show you, which is far more than you deserve, after accusing me of killing Mikhail.”

“Well, did you?” he asks suspiciously.

“Of course I fucking didn’t. And get up off the ground.” I grasp his arm and pull him to his feet, resisting an extremely strong urge to punch him again. “I offered to bring you with me the night we caught the men who planted that bomb. I even offered you the right of pulling the trigger. It was your choice not to be there, Nikolai. If you had questions, that was the night to ask them. But if you still have doubts, then ask the men of yours who were there that night. They’ll tell you those men admitted what they did readily enough. As for the start-up money for Hale—you might remember that Mikhail and I went to war after Yuri was jailed.”

I almost manage to keep the sarcasm out of my tone, but going by Nikolai’s sulky expression, he got the message clear enough. When Yuri went to prison, Nicky was the same age I’d been when I took a bullet for Mikhail. He knows as well as I do that he could have insisted on going to war with us. Instead, he was too busy trading off Yuri’s fame, hanging out in nightclubs, making friends with the celebrities who frequent his club now.

“We won a lot of bank in those wars. What we didn’t have, we borrowed. Then we worked, Nicky. We worked fucking hard.”

No chance I’m ever mentioning the Swiss lockbox. Not even Yuri knew about that. Nikolai sure as fuck never will.

“As for the children—I never asked to be made their legal guardian. And you of all people should know how hard I’ve worked to get Inger to take responsibility for them. Having her take permanent custody of her children has been my sole goal for two years, and still is. I have an email trail to prove it, should you require it.”

Although as I say those words, an uneasy feeling steals through my chest. I’ve always told myself I want Inger to take the children. I’ve been convinced that is the only workable option. But in a rapid shuffle of mental pictures, I see the three children covered in flour and caramel, dancing with Lucia in the kitchen. I hear Mickey’s grave voice down the phone, asking me to come to the villa because something is wrong. I think of Masha’s little hand in mine, and Ofelia’s reluctant smile.

For the first time, I find myself wondering if it’s truly the right thing to send them back to their mother.

In fact, I realize with some surprise, I don’t fucking like the idea of handing them over to Inger at all.

I tuck those thoughts away and bring my mind back to the task at hand.

“The children are your blood, Nikolai. You can see them anytime you want. They aren’t ‘locked away,’ as you put it. They’re simply safe, as Mikhail would want them to be. And as for their inheritance?” I step closer. “If you ever,” I say, giving him the death stare and lowering my voice to the menacing growl that has made far better men than him piss their pants, “ ever fucking imply again that I would cheat Mikhail’s children out of the legacy he built for them, I will kill you. I won’t talk to you. I won’t justify myself. You’ll just be dead, Nikolai. That’s it. That’s all.” I stare the little mudak down. “Do you understand me?”

He shivers. “ Da ,” he whispers hoarsely. “Yes, pakhan. I understand. I’m sorry.”

I hold his eyes long enough to let him see the murder in mine. It isn’t hard. It’s all I can do to stop myself putting a bullet between his eyes right now.

Eventually I stand back. “Right.” I nod curtly toward the street. “In a minute, I’m going to rejoin the parade, and you’re going to fuck off. But before you go, I’d like you to answer one question, Nikolai.” He meets my eyes sullenly. “What made you ask these questions now?” I watch him carefully. “Why, after all our family has been through, would you come at me with accusations that could get you killed? What is it, exactly, that you think I’m hiding from you?”

Nicky’s eyes dart this way and that, looking for an escape. Finally, clearly realizing there isn’t one, his eyes meet mine then slide away. “It was something a friend of mine said,” he says sulkily. “Miguel.”

I frown, taken aback. “Perez? The Cádiz keeper?”

“Yes.” He purses his lips. “Miguel has this journalist friend, a guy called Lance Ryder. He’s done a few good pieces on Pillars, given us good exposure. Then last week, Miguel set up a meeting with the Cádiz manager, like I discussed with you.” He gives me a rather defensive look, but since this is old news, I just nod. “Miguel brought Lance to the meeting. He said it was because Lance was doing a profile piece on him. He assured me it was all off the record.”

I bite my tongue to stop myself asking how anyone, even fucking Nicky, could be so dumb as to believe a journalist would listen to a meeting about a potential money laundering operation off the record.

“But after the meeting, Lance started asking all kinds of questions. About Hale, and especially about the software facility. He said the tech center is a front for something else. I told him I had no idea what he was talking about, and he said you gave me Pillars to keep me busy, so I wouldn’t ask questions. He implied that you were hiding whatever it is even from Mikhail. He asked about how Mikhail died, and how Otets got caught. But most of all, he was asking about that girl from the café across the road, the one who’s your nanny now. It was weird, Roman.” He meets my eyes, genuine confusion in his. “He asked if my father ever told me about something called the Naryshkin Treasure.”

“The what?” I make Nicky say it again.

“Then you’ve never heard of it either?”

I shake my head. “No fucking idea.”

“Oh.” Nikolai looks relieved, and a bit shamefaced. “Well, Lance seemed to think your nanny knows something about it. He implied that the two of you are conspiring in some way. He hung around for a few days, working in one of the private rooms, asking all kinds of questions. At first I didn’t really care, since he was taking good pap shots and Pillars was getting good publicity out of it. But in the end I didn’t like some of the things he was saying, so I stopped answering his questions.” He looks at me hopefully, as if I’m going to give him some kind of fucking approval for doing the bare minimum to show me loyalty.

“You told me all this came about because Miguel said something,” I prompt.

“Oh. Yeah.” Nikolai wipes some of the blood from his nose. “The thing is, a few days after I kicked him out of Pillars, Lance just disappeared. I mean, I called him to ask if he wanted an exclusive on an event at the club, and his phone was disconnected. Nada. I asked Miguel where he went, and he said that Lance is running from you.” He glances at me. “Apparently, Lance told Miguel that your men were following him. Miguel said that Lance knows things about your business at the software facility, and things about your past, that you’d kill to keep secret. He doesn’t know what,” he adds hastily. “Miguel doesn’t know what Lance was chasing down, just that he said Miguel should warn me you aren’t to be trusted. That’s it, Roman. That’s all I know.” He eyes me warily. “I know I should have told you before now, but—”

I wave that off impatiently.

Nikolai is finished as far as I’m concerned.

I might stop short of putting a bullet through his brain, but he’ll be on such a short fucking leash for the rest of his life that he might begin to wish I had. That isn’t what interests me now.

“Did you end up finding out anything about this Naryshkin Treasure that Lance was so obsessed with?”

“The treasure?” Nikolai frowns in confusion. “Oh, no.” He shrugs, giving me a rather bemused look. “I mean, it’s obviously just one of those stories you hear, right? Journalists make them up all the time about Russians, especially rich ones.” Then his face takes on a shrewd expression. “Wait. Is that why you had men following him? Do you think he’s onto something?”

“Of course not.” Nikolai’s blatant greed is about as subtle as a fucking sledgehammer. Nonetheless, better I nip it in the bud. The last thing I need now is Nicky getting curious. “I’m just wondering why he thought I was involved. No,” I say, as if dismissing it. “I had Ryder followed because I knew he attended a meeting at Pillars, and I knew he was a journalist. I was worried he would damage us in some way.”

It isn’t entirely untrue.

“Oh.” Nikolai has the grace to look ashamed, and I don’t feel remotely fucking guilty about it. “Thank you for looking out for me, Roman.”

“Yep.” I nod curtly toward the main road. “Let’s get back to the parade. You’re going to say hello to your brother’s kids, then you’re going to get the fuck out of my sight. Are we clear?”

“Yes, pakhan .” He lowers his head sullenly. “Crystal.”