Page 51

51

VICTORIA

LIKE IT OR NOT - MADONNA

The kitchen was packed, as always, with women and kids.

It was like something from the fifties, enough that it would have irritated me if they weren’t always talking about something interesting that mocked the traditional gender roles they ‘appeared’ to portray.

Since Papa’s death and moving in with Inessa and Eoghan, I was starting to realize that I didn’t have to fit into the same mold as I always had.

Papa had scared me.

He’d forced us to adhere to strict rules, punishing us if we veered outside of those lines.

But now, there were choices. I had options. I didn’t have to hide my books. I could explore the world, and my sisters-in-law aided and abetted me in that endeavor.

Since Christmas, after Shay and I had gotten into an argument about glass ceilings, Savannah had started showing up on Saturdays with books for me. Various topics that were seemingly unrelated except that she somehow knew I’d be interested.

Aela discussed art with me, modern and traditional, and explained the importance of analyzing artwork because it enabled a person to see beneath the surface and to understand the ‘human dilemma’ better.

Aoife, for all her homey traits, was a shrewd businesswoman. Last month, I’d asked her how to balance my checking account because my allowance never lasted longer than a week and I wanted to start saving because Savannah said that a woman should never depend on a man for a source of income.

As for my sisters, Inessa and Camille, they were like me—caterpillars still stuck in their chrysalises. Not that anyone would look at either of them and think they were ugly caterpillars, but their development was slow. Camille was content with her crafts but Inessa wanted to study, wanted to grow, and neither of those were traits Papa wanted to develop.

So it was with curiosity that I stepped into the kitchen, wondering what I’d learn today.

Last time, I’d sneaked in without anyone realizing and got to hear about how Aidan Jr. would tie Savannah to the bed and how Declan did this thing with his tongue that made me wonder if that was something you had to learn or if the knowledge was passed down via DNA.

It had definitely made me look at Shay differently.

There was, however, a new addition to the kitchen today.

She was thin, very angular, had scars on her throat and arms, and… she was the most beautiful woman I’d ever come across in my life. Her strength was compact and she vibrated with it. Her confidence brimmed over as she picked up a brownie even though Aoife didn’t let anyone touch them until dessert. But what fascinated me was how Savannah was discussing the current political situation in Afghanistan with her and she spoke of the country as if she knew it.

She was a soldier.

Fascinated, I stepped toward her and realized we were almost the same height.

The stranger just appeared larger than life.

“Hello,” she said cheerfully when she took note of me hovering by Savannah’s elbow.

“This is Victoria, Cin,” Savannah introduced me. “She’s Camille and Inessa’s sister.”

As always, I adored her for not classifying me as the ‘baby sister.’ She tucked her arm around my shoulder and I tipped my head against hers with an affection I showed to few people.

“I know you,” Cin declared after she swallowed some of the brownie in her hand.

My brows rose. “But we’ve never met.”

Cin—short for Lucinda?—shrugged. “Heard a less-than-lucid Russian mumbling about you.”

“A less-than-lucid Russian?” I repeated, perplexed.

“Maxim Lyanov.”

Despite my confusion, my cheeks tinged pink. “Maxim spoke about me to you?”

“He wasn’t really speaking at the time. He was groaning.”

“Groaning?” Savannah cleared her throat. “She’s barely sixteen, Cin.”

Cin snorted. “I don’t screw mobsters.”

The chatter screeched to a halt in the kitchen.

Utter silence.

Fitting, seeing as everyone in the room screwed mobsters on the regular…

Uncaring that she’d just offended the entire household, Cin continued, “He was talking about chopping someone’s hand off.”

Though I knew Savannah was bristling, she barked out a laugh and nudged me in the side. “Maxim and his penchant for butchery. I think we know what his love language is, Victoria.”

Nudging her back, I grumbled, “Shut up.”

“Whose hand is he chopping off this time?” Inessa queried, drifting over to us.

“I don’t understand why he can’t just break a wrist. Why chop it off?” Aela groused.

“It sends a message,” Camille reasoned as she lifted her mimosa and took a deep sip. “The Bratva way.”

“Nuh-uh. They’re ‘The Forgotten Boys’ now.”

Savannah’s correction had me frowning. “The Forgotten Boys?”

“Well, the…” She cleared her throat. “I should have kept my mouth shut.”

“I think you’re incapable of that, Savannah,” Inessa teased.

“Probably.”

Camille reached over the counter and patted my arm. “There’s a new Russian faction in town.”

Panic stirred inside me. “Are we in danger?”

“Of course not. We’re Irish now,” Inessa declared, her words loaded with her satisfaction.

I had no idea where Eoghan came from—seriously, he was like a ghost sometimes—but he was there all of a sudden, his arm sliding around her waist, and he was growling something in her ear that made Inessa blush.

Eoghan apparently liked hearing that Inessa considered herself Irish now.

I’d have rolled my eyes if I weren’t used to their PDAs.

“You’re not in danger,” Eoghan confirmed a moment later. His gaze was measured as he zeroed in on me, gracing me with every inch of his focus. For someone who’d been starved of attention from a male authority figure, he never ceased to reassure me when he looked at me this way. “I told you, Victoria, I will always keep you safe.”

My throat bobbed. “If the Russians are?—”

“Maxim is in charge of the new faction and the soldiers are separating from the Bratva. Nothing is really changing on this end. The men are no longer heeding Moscow’s call.”

His explanation was brisk and to the point and it both concerned me and put my mind at rest.

“Won’t that anger Moscow?”

“Undoubtedly. Lyanov has our backing though, and Moscow is far away from here.”

Was anything truly far away nowadays?

Unease settled inside me as the kitchen as a whole grew busier when the men waded in. Finn got his hand slapped when he tried to grab a brownie, and Declan burped baby Cameron while Brennan did something that made Camille turn bright pink. I didn’t even want to know why Savannah’s eyes were sparking with anger because whenever she looked like that and Aidan was in the vicinity, they tended to disappear.

It was amid that chaos that Cin shuffled closer to me. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

In the face of her confidence, I felt pathetic.

Did anything frighten this woman?

“Y-You weren’t to know?—”

“I’m used to speaking my mind and I’m not comfortable around kids.”

“I’m not a kid,” I grumbled.

“You are to me,” she said simply, but it didn’t offend me, oddly enough. Mostly because I knew she didn’t make that comparison based on years on the planet but on experience.

There was no denying that I was a child to this woman, as I easily fell into both categories.

“Is Maxim okay? Why wasn’t he lucid?”

“Do you care?” She tipped her head to the side. “You seemed scared when I spoke of him.”

“No. I was confused. H-He’s a friend.”

“A friend.” She smirked. “Do mobsters have friends?”

My scowl was immediate. “You shouldn’t judge people you don’t know. The O’Donnellys didn’t have to bring me into their family, but they did. I’m here. I’m safe. I wasn’t before. They saved me from people who’d have hurt me, and they protect me. I don’t like that you’ve disrespected them twice now. And while you’re under their roof too.”

Cin’s brows rose but she conceded, “I worked for the government.”

“So? They’re not exactly the good guys, are they? The newspapers prove that!” I scoffed, shoving a piece of hair behind my ear before I demanded again, “Why wasn’t Maxim lucid?”

“Because he got injured trying to rescue my friend.”

I stiffened. “How badly?”

“Bad.” Her stare was intense. “He was worried about you. That was why he was babbling.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“I don’t know.” She shot me a grin. “Mostly, I suppose, because it was strange. I appreciate the strange things in life. Punishment via butchery is new to me. It’s very medieval. And considering he routinely does this for a girl who isn’t even related to him makes it even more curious.”

“Maxim is medieval,” I rasped. “Why was he worried about me?”

“He thought he was dying. He wasn’t but he didn’t know that at the time. He seemed to think that he was leaving you alone to face the lions, but from what I can see, the lions are biting at his door, not yours.”

“Where is he?”

“He’s in New York now after his men arranged an evacuation for him.”

“From the head of the Bratva in Moscow?”

“Yes.” She hummed. “He was in a small, private hospital, hiding out from the Krestiy Otets the last I heard. What are you to him?”

“I-I, nothing, really.”

“Unlikely.”

“What does that mean?”

“He thought he was dying and he was worried about your safety while he thought he was dying.” She hitched a shoulder. “As much as you disapprove of my disrespectful undertones when speaking of the mafia, I’d watch myself if I were you. The minute you turn eighteen…”

She let her words drift away with her as she left me alone to retreat to the window where she peered out of the shutters. I watched her position herself just to the side, much as Eoghan did.

Not allowing anyone to take a direct hit at them through the glass.

I couldn’t imagine living my life that way even though I was a pawn in a wider game I had no control of. As much as my life had changed with Papa’s death, that truth hadn’t altered any.

Daughters were the vessels of an alliance.

Two years…

Seven-hundred-and-thirty days until I was eighteen.

Inessa had gotten married on her eighteenth birthday. It had led us down a road that was the best thing that could have ever happened to us, but I wasn’t her. I wanted options, just…

My hands balled into fists as I snuck out to use the restroom.

Locking the door behind me, I leaned back against it and drew out my phone.

Me: I heard you were sick. Are you all right?

As always, he didn’t take long to reply.

Maxim: Not sick, katyonok. Just managed to get into a scrape.

Me: From what I heard, it sounded serious.

Maxim: It was more serious than I’d have liked but I’m okay.

Maxim: Thank you for asking.

Me: If I’d known, I’d have asked sooner.

Maxim: Is that a reprimand I hear, katyonok?

My cheeks flushed.

Me: Yes.

Maxim: The kitten has claws.

My other hand balled into a fist.

Me: Do you have a problem with that?

Maxim: Why would I?

Me: My father would have.

Maxim: Your father was a mudak.

Me: You wouldn’t have called him a shithead if he were alive.

Maxim: He isn’t though, is he?

Me: No.

Maxim: And isn’t life much better for it?

His words should have hurt me, but they were true.

Me: Why do you always answer my texts, Maxim?

Maxim: I like to know you’re safe.

Me: I mean nothing to you. I’m no one.

Maxim: That’s not true.

Me: It isn’t?

Maxim: No.

I had no idea why I typed my next message, but I needed to get the words out. Had to. It was imperative.

Me: I want to go to college.

Maxim: Then go to college you will.

Me: You wouldn’t have a problem with that?

Maxim: Why would I?

Me: I’m not naive, Maxim.

Maxim: I think you are, but I do not see naivety or innocence as a curse. My childhood was stolen from me, katyonok, at too young an age. As someone who starved, who hurt, who bled to stay alive, I wouldn’t wish that on anyone. Certainly not you.

Me: What am I to you?

Maxim: I think you know this. Naive or not.

Me: Tell me.

Maxim: You are my future, katyonok.

That he sent that message to me so easily staggered me. My father considered women to be a weight around his neck, and that he’d been cursed with three daughters had been his biggest complaint. More than taxes or his tithes to Moscow—we were the worst thing that had ever happened to him.

Maxim: But you are young and I must wait until you see me in the same light.

Me: Why would you wait? You don’t need me to cement ties in the Bratva anymore.

Maxim: You know about The Forgotten Boys?

Me: I do.

Maxim: Are you sure you want to know the answer to your question?

Me: Of course.

Maxim: It is complicated.

Maxim: But I will explain it as well as I can. Your sisters have the O’Donnelly brothers. Through them, you have protection until you are of age, but afterward, you are a pawn in a game you cannot win.

That we’d used similar words to describe my situation made nausea swirl in my gut.

Maxim: I have been a pawn, Victoria. Now, I can be your rook.

Me: Not my king?

Maxim: That is a title one has to earn. Maybe with time, you will allow me to be that for you.

Me: Do you believe I’m in danger?

Maxim: Yes.

Me: From?

Maxim: Moscow.

Me: And you’re not in danger from them?

Maxim: Of course. But they would marry you off in an instant to a Pakhan under their control.

Maxim: I am a relative stranger to you, Victoria. Yet you know the truth…

Me: What truth?

Maxim: That I have killed to keep you safe.

His words made my shoulders sag.

Beyond, I could hear the outer door slam and the rabble of voices stirring in the hall, but it was nothing to the chaos in my head.

I wanted to be the woman Savannah was cultivating—independent, strong, self-assured—but that was at odds with an archaic future that involved a marriage of convenience for my protection.

But… it wasn’t a convenience for him, was it?

He could cut ties.

Marry whoever he wanted.

I was young. He had to wait for me to be of age, but he should marry sooner and have a family so he could prepare to cement his power base in the future with children who could forge alliances.

But he was waiting.

For me.

Maxim: Katyonok?

Despite his assurances, I needed to ram something home.

Me: I want to go to college.

Maxim: That can be arranged.

Me: And I want to be courted. Inessa didn’t even meet Eoghan until her wedding day.

Maxim: You have already met me.

Me: I want more.

Maxim: More is something I can try to give you but I’m not a pervert. These types of conversations need to happen when you’re older. I would never have spoken about any of this.

Me: I forced the conversation.

Maxim: You did.

Me: I won’t bring it up again.

Maxim: That is wise.

Maxim: I know that boy Harris has been sniffing around you… Take care of yourself, katyonok. You are aware of the consequences to those around you if you don’t.

The threat was both reassuring and annoying.

Everything about this conversation had been.

I liked Franklin Harris. He was cute. But the threat was clear. If he touched me, he’d lose a hand then his life just like Timofai Stepanov had last year.

I curled my fingers in on themselves and straightened up.

My choices might be limited, but I wasn’t going to be like Mama or my sisters.

There was more to life than a wedding ring.