Page 16

Arielle

Maya ended up tossing everything we were making into the refrigerator and proceeded to cook up a storm between the period I went upstairs to freshen up and my return to the dining room.

“Is all of this necessary for a family dinner?” I asked, taking in the elaborate spread of food and wine.

“Why don’t you go find Mikhail. You shouldn’t arrive at dinner without your significant other,” Maya said, not taking her eyes off the napkins she was currently folding into swan shapes.

I still find it hard to believe the woman did not attend any culinary school. Everything she did in the kitchen always came out so perfect.

“He’s on a call, but he’ll be back soon. I can help out.” I reached for the napkins and was met with a scolding from Maya.

“You have a white dress on devochka . Go wait for him or walk around the house.”

I gave her a tight smile and returned to the balcony upstairs, not knowing what to do with myself. Maybe from here, I can catch a glimpse of some of the guests before I’m required to be downstairs for dinner, and I’d have something for Father.

After Mikhail practically left the house to me yesterday, I took my time to explore every nook and crevice of the building, and all I got were history books, old ledgers, wine, and bookkeeping records. I even trailed my fingers around the wooden panels of the library as Father instructed, feeling for a secret button to a hidden room or something, and was still met with nothing. I couldn’t find anything remotely useful that had to do with the family business. The house was littered with family history, though. They seem to hold tightly to their roots, tight enough to show everything and give away nothing.

I quit trying to pry words from Maya a while ago. While she might be a sweet motherly figure, she was also fiercely loyal to the family and would always smile and ask me to inquire from Mikhail or to let it be. According to her, it was not required of the women in the Bratva to know much about the details. All they had to concern themselves with was looking good, bearing children, and maintaining a peaceful home for their men.

I stared at the endless green expanse of land that stretched through the horizon. Mikhail said the property stretches till you meet stone walls. I was currently on the balcony of the tallest part of the building, and still, I couldn’t see the walls. Dusk slowly descended on the horizon, covering the oak trees lining the driveway in a blanket of darkness and casting eerie dark shadows on the road.

I watched the driveway, slowly expecting a paranormal apparition or wild animal to jump out of it. My expectations were halfway met when I saw two yellow gleaming eyes approaching the fountain. I was ready to run into the house when the soft purr of a car reached my ears. Gleaming eyes turned to headlamps, and the sleek body of a matte black Mercedes materialized from the darkness.

Shortly after that, a long line of exotic cars followed, and before I could blink, the entire garage was filled with the most expensive cars I’ve ever seen, with more exotic-looking guests coming out of them.

“There you are,” Mikhail’s velvety voice wrapped around me as he stepped onto the balcony. “You look beautiful.” He placed a soft kiss on my hand.

“You don’t look bad yourself,” I replied, my eyes glued to the way his charcoal black suit wrapped around his body. I will never get over how handsome he was.

“Sorry, I’ve been so absent. A lot is going on, and I need to take care of it all before it’s too late,” he sighed, massaging his temple with the pad of his fingers.

A closer look at him revealed how tired he was. The area below his eyes looked slightly darker. His eyes looked dull, and the tightness on his shoulders seemed to have returned. I almost felt sorry for him. He had not had a decent night’s sleep or rest since the news of the explosion got to him. “It’s okay. You said it was going to be this way before we left. Did your visit to the port go smoothly?” I added, carefully observing him.

“Not really, but I’ll take care of it. Don’t bother your pretty head with it,” he replied with a soft smile. “We better head to dinner, or I’ll make good on Maya’s words and have you instead,” he said, his voice dark and low.

“I can be desert,” I suggested.

“No, sweetheart. You’re a feast. Now let’s leave, or I can’t be blamed for what happens.”

A chuckle spilled from me, and I wrapped my arm around his. “Lead the way then.”

I wanted to ask more questions about his visit to the port, but I knew he wouldn’t be very receptive towards it in this state. I’ll just have to circle back when he’s less tense.

*****

My view from the balcony didn’t do justice to the people I walked in on. The dining room looked like something straight out of a movie, and everyone looked so expensive, especially the women. Their make-up was flawless, their hair styled to perfection, their jewelry catching the light from the chandelier, and their dresses tailored to perfection.

The men didn’t need much. You could tell from their suits and wristwatches. Some had tobacco pipes lodged between their lips. This did not look like a gathering of criminals.

Silence descended on the dining following the steady click of my heels on the floor, and I could feel their eyes burning into me. Sensing my discomfort, Mikhail’s hold on me tightened reassuringly as he led me to the table, pulling out a chair for me.

“Never thought I’d see the day Mikhail pulls out a seat for a woman,” the man seated at the far end of the table with a scar running from his eyebrow to his cheek whistled, and the men laughed.

“You should’ve given us a head start. I would’ve loved to impress the beautiful lady,” another man added, and the laughter intensified.

“Pardon my brothers, I’m Ivan, and I think you ended up with the wrong brother,” a dashing young man seated next to me said, flashing me a bright smile.

“You know, if you flirt with your wife that way, maybe she won’t look like she hasn’t had an orgasm in a decade,” the man with the scar shot back, and the laughter couldn’t get any louder.

In all of this, I couldn’t help but notice the silence of the women. They didn’t even laugh at the jokes. Not that the jokes were appropriate or anything, but there was almost no difference between them and beautiful statues.

“Hello darling,” a beautiful blonde seated across from me smiled, “I’m Natalya. Mikhail didn’t tell us he was bringing a gorgeous girl.”

“When does Mikhail tell anyone anything?” The bald man seated next to her interjected, puffing out a ball of smoke.

I sought help from Mikhail, but he was engaged in a hushed conversation with Enzo and another man I learned to be Alexei. He paid no attention to the commotion going on at the table. Guess I would have to figure this one out myself. “I’m Arielle,” I smiled, returning her greeting.

“Arielle, now that’s a beautiful name,” Ivan said, wrapping a few strands of my hair around his finger.

Before I could process his action, a knife wheezed past me, missing my cheeks by a hair’s breath and lodging into Ivan’s palm, tearing a sharp, agonizing cry from him. My eyes widened at the sight of blood dripping from his palms, my heart thudding so hard in my chest it felt like it would burst out of my rib cage anytime soon.

Silence settled over the table, and I looked to find Mikhail’s fingers curled on the table, his eyes shooting lasers at Ivan while Enzo watched with a smirk.

“That’s what happens when you lay your hands on someone’s woman,” Scarface whistled, amusement simmering in his eyes.

I pinned my gaze on Mikhail, but he wouldn’t look my way. He went back to his conversation with Enzo as if nothing had happened. I glanced around the table to find everyone else back to their affairs as if someone didn’t have a knife lodged in his palm.

Ivan ripped the knife from his palm, hissing in pain as the steel sliced through him, and it took everything in me not to puke. I glanced at the women and found them occupied with their meals and phones. None of them paid attention to Ivan except Scarface, who looked to be very entertained, and Natalya, who watched me in amusement before raising her champagne flute to me. “Welcome to the family.”

I could only manage a tight smile in response to her greeting, noticing a platinum blonde at the far end of the table staring at me with murderous eyes. Maya appeared shortly with a bandage for Ivan, sending me a look I couldn’t decipher before returning to the kitchen. These people acted nothing like the way they were dressed. I wouldn’t be surprised if one of the drinks on the table turned out to be blood. My appetite completely faded, and I ended up playing with my food for most of the time. Mikhail still wouldn’t look at me, and Ivan acted like I was never in the room to begin with.

Dinner ended with the men involved in a heated argument in Russian. Mikhail had passed a file through them while we ate, causing an uproar from every eye that looked into it. My fingers itched with curiosity, and I longed to catch a glimpse of what the file held. I knew that wasn’t going to be possible, so I settled for recording the conversation by phone. I’d send it to Father, and he’d have someone translate it for him.

I was still straining my ears for familiar words when I noticed the women rise to their feet while the men maintained their positions on the table. My eyes narrowed in confusion, not knowing what I was supposed to do at the moment.

“Come on,” Natalya beckoned, “It’s time to leave the men to business.”

Of course, the women were sent away when it was time for serious business. I could only hope the recording provided enough details for Father, or I’d have to bank on guilt-tripping Mikhail into giving up a few details. I didn’t see myself particularly successful with that, but I’d still give it a shot.

I got up, briefly catching Mikhail’s eyes as I left for the drawing room with Natalya. The women I met there were completely different from the ones in the dining room. Snorty noses were crinkled in laughter, and the whole place sounded like a saloon. Some of them still looked miserable, and the platinum blonde wouldn’t stop shooting daggers at me.

“That’s Caroline, Ivan’s wife,” Natalya muttered, and her resentment suddenly made sense.

“Don’t let her get to you. It could’ve happened with anyone. Ivan is a well-known dog. You should be grateful Mikhail stopped him,” she said, and my footstep faltered.

“He threw a knife at him,” I said, and she only smiled, steering us to a coffee table at the far end of the drawing room.

“That’s the most effective way to mark your territory around here. Ivan was only testing the waters, and If Mikhail had done nothing when he touched you, he would be indirectly signaling to the men that you were fair game and open for the taking. Benjamin almost chopped off Alexei’s fingers when he tried to kiss my hands.” She explained, and I swallowed to hold down the wave of nausea building in me.

If I couldn’t get anything from the men, I’d settle for the women. Everyone knows women love to talk, and Natalya looked very willing to indulge me. “So does this happen every time?”

“Yes. It’s their way of marking their territory.”

Animals. Brutally sadistic animals. I swallowed my disgust, plastering a smile on my face. “I think I already figured that out. I was asking about the part where we get sent out from dinner. Is that a regular thing?”

“Oh. It depends on the occasion. Women are not supposed to be present when sensitive issues are being discussed,” she replied, and I furrowed my brows in confusion.

“Benjamin said the explosion was a suicide attempt, so it’s indicative of a bigger threat,” she explained.

“That’s not what Igor said,” a stunning brunette interjected from the table next to us. “He said the attack was not on the port but on the new ammunition.”

Soon, the room was filled with the voices of women offering what they had drawn from their brothers and significant others about the state of the current events.

“He said it was a failed suicide, and the culprit was caught.”

“That’s totally wrong. My husband said the culprit was blown apart and left no evidence.”

“That’s wrong. Mine said the culprit has been found.”

“You all have it wrong. My husband said the culprit was blown up, but the shipments were found intact.”

My ears perked at the last statement from a redhead puffing out a ball of smoke from her pipe. She was the only one who looked like her husband would actually give her honest details about what was going on.

“That’s a good thing then. Everyone’s safe,” I said, careful not to let my true intentions show.

“That’s barely the case,” she scoffed. “The events only point to the presence of a mole. Only someone on the inside would’ve known about the shipment. Everyone is a suspect for now.”

“Didn’t Amber say it was a suicide from one of the workers? That’s the mole right there.” Natalya replied with a tone of conviction.

“Maybe, maybe not,” the redhead replied, turning to me. “So, tell me, Arielle, how did you meet Mikhail, and most importantly, how did you get him to claim you? I’ll have you know he has never shown interest in a woman past the bedroom, and a good number of the women here have thrown themselves at him in the past, including Natalya.” She shot Natalya a look to which she replied with an eye roll. This woman wasn’t scared of stepping on toes. “I’m sure we’re all curious to know how you bagged him.”

Something about her sent chills down my spine. She didn’t seem docile like the other women, and her brown eyes looked like she could see right into your soul and sniff out the fake in you. I let out a nervous laugh when I noticed the silence in the room. Every woman had suddenly drawn closer to my table, their eyes filled with questions, including Ivan’s wife.

“Honestly, I had no intentions of bagging him when we met. I only came to the club to have a good time, and I fell into a hiccup with some dufus, and Mikhail came to my rescue. We fucked that night, and well, as the storytellers would say, the rest was history.”

“I always knew he was going to end up with someone who had no idea who he was and didn’t cower at his sight. I saw the way you looked at him when he threw the knife at Ivan. You’re not scared of him. That’s good,” she asserted, puffing out another cloud of smoke.

Slowly, the conversation shifted from Mikhail and I to who would be throwing the next party and who was the least dressed to the last party.