Page 81 of Nikola

Uncle Alexei shook his head in disapproval. “That was a bold move. A real dumb one too.”

“It’s an artistic movie,” I claimed, but Uncle Alexei’s expression said it was a stupid claim. “I mean, you couldn’t even see anything.”

“Yet we knew it was you and Skye,” he retorted wryly. “Imagine that.”

“Undoubtedly the Marchettis will know it too,” I deadpanned.

Uncle Alexei's expression was sullen when he said, “That’s not the way we treat women, Nikola.”

“It was consensual,” Skye signed, rushing to defend me. “We were just… experimenting.”

Alexei shrugged. “Maybe, but you’re engaged.”

She scoffed. “Not anymore. Not to Amadeo Marchetti anyhow.”

“Kids,” he mumbled. “Nikola, I’m taking you to see your father, and you, young lady”—Skye rolled her eyes and I couldn’t help but smile proudly—“better go see your parents. Or at least your mother.”

My mom appeared, and despite having seen the video, the smile she gave Skye and me didn’t dim.

“Hey, you two,” she greeted us. “How was your day?”

Skye blushed. “Ah, good, Mrs. Nikolaev.”

Mom waved her hand. “Just call me Bella. It’s high time, don’t you think?”

Skye shifted from one foot to the other uncomfortably. “Okay, if you insist.”

“Is Marietta home?” I asked, taking the heat off Skye.

“Yes, she’s still sleeping off her buzz.” Mom pursed her lips in disapproval. Funny, a sex tape was totally okay, but clearly my sister’s drunkenness wasn’t.

“Okay, I’m going to bite the bullet and find my dad.” I pecked Skye’s cheek, then my mom’s. “If I die, make sure Skye’s still considered my widow.”

My mom smacked my forearm. “You’re not going to die.”

“He might,” Alexei deadpanned in a cold voice.

“He said to meet him in his office,” Mama called out after me as I stalked down the hallway and took a left turn. I entered, not even bothering to knock, but found the office empty.

“Might as well get comfortable,” I muttered as I took a seat in front of his desk, stretching out my legs.

The peace lasted merely a few seconds.

31

VASILI

“Are you out of your fucking mind, son?”

My firstborn didn’t even flinch. In fact, he was so relaxed his feet were propped up. It felt like déjà vu from decades ago when my brother had kidnapped Branka.

I slammed the office door behind me, causing every fucking glass window of our home to rattle from the force of it, then made my way to the desk to take a seat.

“I’m talking to you, Nikola,” I roared, bringing my fist down onto the wood. The last wooden desk splintered into nothing thanks to my brother’s shenanigans, and at this rate, this one wouldn’t last much longer.

“I hear you,” he said calmly, reaching into his pocket. He fished out a bubblegum, the crinkle of the wrapper loud against the somber silence, grating on my nerves.

He threw the gum into his mouth and started chewing obnoxiously.