Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 85224 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85224 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
He looks at the piece and then back to me. Franco keeps his focus on the game, and I’m glad.
“That is from the first time I ever beat my father at the game,” he tells me. “Or rather, the first time I ever allowed myself to.”
I reach out for it hesitantly, examining it between my fingers. It is odd that he has kept it all these years. But it is significant to him.
“Why?” I ask.
“My mother told me I should always allow him to win,” Alexei answers. “And I did. Until he told me I was not a worthy opponent.”
“It’s cracked,” I remark.
“It is,” he replies.
There is nothing else said, but it answers my question. Alexei’s father was enraged by this. And for some reason, it pleases him. I suspect that Sergei has always been insecure over his son. But I also suspect it has nothing to do with his hearing and everything to do with his intelligence.
Like me, Alexei had to adapt to the world he was born in. And I have no doubt he is always the smartest man in the room. Calculating his moves like he does on the chess board. Standing with his back towards a wall so he never misses a cue in conversation. His eyes working overtime to assess everyone in his orbit. Trying to appear as though he is normal.
But this man is nowhere near normal.
He is a genius in a room full of cavemen. Highly adapted and overqualified for everything he does. And yet he slums it with his Vory brethren and a wife like me, feeling as though he will never fit in. And maybe it’s selfish of me, but I hope he never does. I hope he never realizes how much better he could do than the likes of me.
Franco’s phone rings, interrupting the game. He speaks in short and precise sentences, giving Alexei a nod before he steps outside.
“How long do you think he’ll be gone for?” I ask.
“Not long enough for what you have in mind,” Alexei answers, wheeling his chair closer.
“You mean what you have in mind,” I retort. “Pervert.”
I reach for his hand that rests on my thigh. With an empty space reserved for another tattoo. One he has not added yet. An idea strikes me as I grab a pen from his desk. One that will probably reveal too much. But I do it anyway. And he lets me.
Pressing the ink to his skin, I write my name in that space. The one I feel like I have a claim on.
“When do you get my name carved in your skin?” I ask.
“Soon,” he answers. “If that is what you wish.”
I have an opportunity here. To be vulnerable. Or to keep my armor in place.
I did not think I could ever choose vulnerable again. But I do.
“I would like that,” I tell him.
He wraps his arms around me and presses his face against my belly, peppering it with little kisses. My hands move through his hair, mussing it up before he pulls my face down to kiss him.
“Lyoshka,” I murmur against his lips.
“Yes, my sweet?”
“You are so hot.”
He smiles at me.
“I don’t think I ever tell you,” I continue. “But you’re hot, and you should know it.”
He grabs my chin and his eyes flick from my mouth to meet my gaze.
“Solnyshko,” he says sincerely. “You terrify me.”
I swallow, and he kisses me softly.
“I know,” I tell him. “Because you terrify me too.”
43
Alexei
Just as I do every month on the 3rd, I arrive at a Vory owned club for the usual meeting. The meeting where we discuss numbers and operations and anything else that Viktor adds to the agenda.
And just as I do every month, I set up the flash drive in the computer downstairs and prepare the projector.
This is the way things are always done. The same routine I have performed as long as I have been Sovietnik.
And then we drink. Always for about thirty minutes or so until all of the Vory have arrived. We discuss business and ask after the other’s family members.
It is the way things are always done.
Only, this evening is different.
This evening, I am betrayed.
When Viktor calls the meeting to order, he directs one of the Boyeviks to operate the presentation as he always does. I take my seat beside him, prepared to discuss the details of our gambling operations.
What I am not prepared for is what comes up on the computer.
“What is this, Lyoshenka?” Viktor asks.
I stare at the video in confusion. It is from my own home. A video I have not seen before. From a low quality camera placed somewhere in my own sitting room.
I am on the couch. And Talia and Magda are behind me, near the stairs. Magda is telling her something. And it looks like Talia is calling out to me, but I can’t be sure. I don’t turn around, and Talia’s face fills with confusion as she tries again.