Page 26 of Scarlet Promise (Yegorov Bratva #4)

Chapter Twenty

ALINA

I sit in the kitchen early the next morning, my hands around my toasted rice tea. I find that it’s all I can tolerate in the morning, so I’ll just eat later.

It’s not until he steps into the kitchen, pulling up short, that I connect the nausea to nerves.

“You’re making this a habit,” he says.

“What?”

“Ambushing me at breakfast.”

“Well,” I say, taking a sip of the mild, soothing tea, “if you weren’t such a coward and would talk about things, then I wouldn’t have to, would I?”

He holds up his hands. “Save it.”

Demyan starts to make himself a coffee. He looks about, hopeful for Magda, but I have power here, too. And I’ve forbidden her from entering the kitchen before seven this morning.

It’s six thirty.

He wants food, but that’s too bad. He can make it himself.

“Save what?” I ask him.

“Whatever bullshit story you have over Ilya because I don’t have time for an argument this morning.”

“That’s just too fucking bad, Demyan. You left your wife last night, so right now, you’ve got a lot of making up to do?—”

“I—”

“Nope. Whatever romantic things you did won’t cut it, and you need to understand that. You. Left. Her. But I’m not here to argue about what you did to her. I’m just saying if you want a few extra points to use in climbing out of your deep hole there, you’ll be quiet and listen.”

He stares at me like I’ve grown another head.

Maybe I have. I feel like I have.

Normally, I’m not so fierce. But maybe I’ve just had enough. Or it’s that and pregnancy hormones, but right now, I could fight a dragon and win.

“So,” I say, “we’re going to have a conversation, and you’re going to make time for it. Sit, Demyan. Now. Please.”

Demyan sits then looks at me. “Well?”

I nod and set my cup down. “I’m not here to talk about Ilya. I miss my brother. I miss Demyan. I don’t know who you are right now, but you’re not the man I’ve looked up to my entire life. You’ve always been my hero. Always. And I miss that. I miss you. I miss my Demyan.”

“Alina…”

The choke in his voice hurts.

“Can we sideline any Ilya issues you have?” I ask him. “Can we do that and work on fixing our relationship?”

“It’s him?—”

“No,” I say, “it isn’t. You seem to think I’m fifteen and need you to protect me against a boy. That’s you treating me a certain way, and I don’t know why, but it’s not him. It’s you and me, and we need to mend it.”

“I’m not sure I can do that, because to me, it is Ilya,” he says. “But I agree to try.”

I pick apart his words, what the deeper meaning is. Right now, he can’t see he’s strangling me by treating me this way, and it took me thinking last night about it all. About how he’s been to boyfriends, boys who flitted around, and even Max.

He put Max through his paces, but he didn’t treat me like I didn’t know my own mind, like I had no autonomy.

And that’s the difference.

Demyan knew Max was different, so he was maybe a little harder, but he saw how Max felt. How I felt. And he shifted to giving his blessing.

I know he knows Ilya’s different, too. And he knows how Ilya feels and how I feel for Ilya.

To be so unfairly hard on me for finding love after losing Max is cruel.

And I can’t…I can’t call him my brother like I used to if he keeps on this path.

“I never thought I’d find love again, find someone worthy like Max. Find happiness. But I did. And I thought you’d be happy. You’re not, so what does that say about you?”

He doesn’t answer.

“Nothing good, Demyan,” I whisper.

He clears his throat. “I said I’d try.”

He shrugs like that’s all he can he do.

I lean in. “Try hard, Demyan,” I warn. “Because if this fails, if you fail, I’m not sure what else to do but walk out the door and never see you again.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“I don’t know what to do. I deserve to be happy. Like you. I deserve happiness, too.”

I stand, leaving my tea, and head to the door. Then I stop, my hand on the doorjamb. “I’ll be spending tomorrow night with Ilya at his place.”

He frowns. “Is that a good idea?” I must look apoplectic because he adds, “I’m thinking of your safety.”

“Ilya’s taking care of that today.”

“Is he?”

“He’s upgrading all the security at his place. I’ll be safe.”

I walk away and don’t look back.

Mainly because if I stay, I’ll start to cry.

Maize bounces up and down on her chair when she sees me coming, and I sweep the little girl up for a big hug.

“Doggy?” she asks.

I laugh. “Albert’s keeping Uncle Ilya company.”

“Doggy.” She frowns as I put her down, and then Isla gets up and hugs me, too.

“You know if we get a pet, you’re to blame.” Isla laughs. “Knowing Maize, she’ll want a cat and a dog.”

I can see Albert with a cat friend.

We order some salads and pasta, including mac and cheese, Maize’s favorite. When Isla asks if anything’s new, I drop the news.

“Um, I’m pregnant.”

“Oh my god!” Isla screams and laughs and draws every eye to us, not that she cares.

Maize screams, too, not sure what’s going on, but getting into the fun and games anyway.

“Can you imagine the playdates our little girls will have?” Isla asks, basically jumping up and down the same way Maize did.

I grin. “Maize is three, and by the time the baby’s old enough for playdates, Maize might not want to play with a toddler.”

“Nonsense,” Isla says, spearing an olive. “Big sister, little sister dynamic, and you know it.”

“There’s also the slight problem that there’s a fifty percent chance I’ll have a boy.”

“They can have matching outfits! Oh, this is going to be so great. And how excited is Ilya? I bet his feet haven’t touched the ground yet.”

I hug myself.

“You have told him, right? He knows. I’m just beyond thrilled.”

“He knows,” I say. “And he’s excited about him or her?—”

“Her,” Isla says with a laugh and squeezes my hand. “It’s a pity you can’t drink, or we’d celebrate.”

“You can celebrate with booze. Maize and I can have a soda.”

“Soda!” Maize screams.

Isla sends me a mock dirty look. “I’ll do that to you one day. She loves soda.”’

“One of the natural juice ones. They can make one,” I say.

When the waiter comes over, we order mimosas, a real one for Isla and a soda water and juice, one for me and one for Maize, much to her excitement at a grown-up drink.

Isla tells me about the schools near where Ilya’s mansion is, from preschool up. The state-funded ones as well as the private ones.

I lift my hand to my head. “The baby’s not a baby yet. It’s just dividing cells.”

“So? You should have been planning when it was sperm and unmet egg.”

I start laughing. I can’t help it, but one look at her face, and I can see she means it.

“You’re not joking,” I say.

“I’m not. Ask Erin. Do hers go to private or?—”

“It’s Demyan. Private.”

“Even so…schools matter. I’ll get a list of the best ones, the waiting lists, and everything else you need. You have to make sure you have it all locked down now.”

She sits back and sips her mimosa. “Speaking of Demyan, how did he react?”

I don’t say a thing.

Her eyes widen. “He doesn’t know, does he?”

I shake my head, guilt nibbling at me. “I’m still working up to that. Erin knows, but Demyan’s a different thing altogether.”

“Maybe this will bring him around,” Isla points out.

Maybe.

But maybe it’ll be the thing to drive the final wedge between us.

When lunch is over, Isla and Maize leave, and I reluctantly get in my car, already missing them. I ignore my bodyguard and let Gus know to drive by the shelter.

When we pull up, I get out and head in.

“I meant to come in earlier,” I say, noting the only person in the shelter is Eva.

There’s a dusty, neglected feeling here, like the building’s given up. I know she would never neglect the animals, but the feeling isn’t a physical thing I can see. Still, it tugs hard on my heart.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been around as much as I want to.”

“Don’t be silly,” Eva says, her smile strained but genuine.

“I feel bad. I wanted to help more than I have. And I still do.”

She touches my arm. “Alina, please, don’t be silly. I know you’ve been through a lot. And really, it means the world you’re here.”

She looks around.

“How’s Albert?” she asks.

“Good. Great.” I smile. “He’s at home with Ilya. He’s the best dog.”

“He’s very special.”

I rub my hands together. “So now that you know he’s safe and happy, what do you want me to do?”

Eva sags against the counter. “Nothing. There’s nothing to do. The negotiations I went into to try to renew the lease?—”

“You already said the landlord wouldn’t.”

“I know, but I thought if I could ask him to extend the current lease, or come at him with something big, an offer he couldn’t refuse, then… But it doesn’t matter. He said no. And he gave notice, making it official.”

My heart sinks. “We’ll find another place.”

“Where?” she asks. “This shelter’s done and is going to close. The worst-case scenario is some of the dogs won’t be taken in by other no-kill shelters. So many are struggling and at capacity already.”

The nausea that rocks through me isn’t from pregnancy but from what she’s saying.

“And the dogs who don’t get taken in?” I ask.

Eva shakes her head, and her expression haunts me. She doesn’t have to say a word.

I know.

They will be euthanized.

I think of all the dogs I’ve come to know and care for. They’re all good animals. They deserve a home.

“Eva, if anything changes, anything, like if someone turns up to take them or you’re told to get out, call me. Okay?”

“But—”

“Call. No one can kick you out with such short notice, and I can help to rehouse, at least temporarily.”

I doubt Demyan will be pleased that I’m thinking about his grounds. Ilya may not be up for that, either, but I don’t care. If I need a place to put them temporarily, I’ll do it.

“Promise me?” I ask.

Eva nods. “I promise.”

The shelter’s all I can think about when I get home. The idea of using these grounds and Ilya’s as places to house the animals is a good stopgap, but it’s not an answer. I’m assuming there are laws, and there will need to be people to look after them all.

The real purpose of a shelter is to find the animals homes. I still like the idea of having a place where they can live out their days in comfort if they aren’t adopted, and I can do that down the road. Cats, dogs, other pets.

But that’s an end-game kinda thing, when all other options are gone.

I don’t think starting there is the right way, but shelters that have aspects of those kinds of places may be. Shelters that allow the dogs dignity, kennels, spaces to run, a safe home until their human chooses them is.

Right now, I need to help Eva and the dogs.

Considering letting them live here and at Ilya’s for now and turning those spaces into something like I’ve got in mind is a perfect idea. I could make that happen by buying the block of land.

I knock on Demyan’s office door, and he looks up at me in surprise.

“Alina?”

We’re both wary for different reasons, but I step inside, taking a breath.

“It’s about Albert.”

“The beast who bit me?”

I scowl at him. “You were hurting Ilya. And I see you trying to get back in Albert’s good books by sneaking him treats.”

“What about him?”

“I’ve been volunteering at the shelter I got him from, only the landlord’s kicking the shelter out?—”

“That’s sad,” he says, “but what’s it got to do with me?”

“The landlord’s been trying to offload the block of land for years, on and off. I can come at him with an offer, but I’d need a chunk of my trust fund.”

“How much?”

There’s a lot of money in there. More than I could ever use, even if I was given a quarter of it. The landlord would drool over a quarter, and if I offered more, he’d give me his firstborn.

“Half.”

“No.”

“It’s my money, Demyan.”

He presses his lips together. “It’s a bad idea.”

Something in me snaps. “How would you know? You spend millions and millions on illegal shit. You have a billion-dollar bratva, and only some if it’s legitimate money.

I want to do something good with an amount that wouldn’t put a dent in your fortune, not that I’m asking for a drop of yours.

I’m requesting half of mine early for a good cause, and you think it’s a bad idea? ”

“Yes, I do.”

I slam a fist on his desk, spilling his coffee. “Doesn’t it get tiring being up there on your pedestal?”

“It’s not that, Angel,” he says. “How long until you lose interest in this and move on to the next shiny thing? It seems like fun right now, but shit like that isn’t. It’s not all pretty things. This is real life.”

I stare at him, shock vibrating through me. My mouth hangs open. “Do you even know me at all?”

He sighs. “Send me the sales listing.”

“It’s not for sale right now because no one ever bites, and he keeps taking it down only to put it back up later on.” I’m pretty sure it has something to do with time spent on the market can devalue the property or something.

I don’t know. I’m not an expert. But I don’t need to be. I know how much I’m willing to spend, and if he won’t bite, I’ll buy something else.

But Demyan thinking I’m some kind of vacuous socialite… That stuns me.

“Then that’s a problem,” he says.

“Did you listen to me?”

“I did, but things don’t stay new and shiny for you for long.”

“Be very careful,” I warn. “If this is about Max and Ilya, you’ll regret it.”

“Damn it, Alina. Stop being combative. Just send me the info you have, and I’ll have someone look into it.”

“Don’t bother,” I say quietly. “I’ll figure something out myself.”

I turn and walk out, ignoring him call my name.