Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 79211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
My father sputters, his cheeks flushed with rage, as Ekaterina and my mother enter the room again. I feel sick to my stomach.
Aleks, however, placidly goes back to his meal and begins to cut his chicken. “Now would be a good time for you to go. The only reason I’ve given you any leeway at all is because you’re an old man.” He spears my father with a look. “No one talks about my wife that way. Old man or not, if you ever disrespect her again, you’ll answer to me.”
My heart swells with gratitude, love, and newfound strength. His declaration in the face of my father’s judgment means more to me than he can ever know.
“We’re leaving,” my father sputters, as if it’s his idea, and gets to his feet. My mother, dressed in too-tight clothes because she’s obviously several sizes larger than Ekaterina, only stares.
I hate her in this moment. I hate her for never standing up for me. I hate her for never defending me or making anything in my life easier. I hate her for staying with my father when he abused me and used me and for her own complicit part in all of this.
My hands shake when I cut up Ivy’s chicken. Aleks’s hand covers mine.
He speaks in a voice meant only for my ears. “A woman who holds a gun like it was carved into her hand can control the shaking with effort,” he says quietly. “Let it go.”
I remember the way the gun felt in my hand.
The shaking steadies.
Aleks raises his voice. “Viktor, why don’t you escort them out.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Harper
Leaning in to whisper in my ear, Aleks says, “I’ll pay a visit to your father tonight. We’ll have a talk, man to man.”
When I stare with wide eyes, he shakes his head. “I’m not going to hurt him, Harper. But if your brother’s there… I make no promises.”
I feed Ivy little bites of chicken and praise her for sitting at the table so quietly. “I’m hungry,” she says. “Cookies if I eat lunch?”
I nod.
“Well,” Ekaterina says, standing. “Wine isn’t cutting it here, my loves. I think we need to bring out something stronger, shall we?”
I like her already. She comes back to the table with a bottle of vodka in each hand. “Harper, vodka flows in our blood. It’s strong, though. Care for a taste?”
“I care for more than a taste,” I reply. “Thank you.”
Aleks’s eyes shine at me. I had no idea saying yes to his family’s favorite drink would tickle him.
Ekaterina hands me a shot. I take it and down it in one gulp before I realize they’re all staring at me, still holding their full shot glasses. I stifle the need to sputter, liquid fire burning my throat. “Oh, I’m sorry,” I say, my cheeks warming. “Do we all drink together?”
Aleks snorts. “Don’t worry, we drink alone, together, in pairs, in groups. You’re fine.”
Still, he links a finger with mine, holding my gaze while the rest of them hold their drinks.
“To new beginnings!” Ekaterina declares.
“New beginnings.”
Lev, the youngest one, pulls up a remote and hits a button. A large white screen descends. “Now that our guests have left, we need to have a meeting. I’m going to patch Mikhail in on a call.”
I hardly pay attention to what they’re discussing, since none of it pertains to me. I know none of the names or places, though Aleks keeps looking at me. Instead, I’m trying to take in the family.
Most of Polina’s attention is on Ivy. When Ivy gets antsy and wants to get down from the table, Polina gestures for her to come over to her. Ivy leaps up on Polina’s lap and Polina shows her how to shake the salt and pepper shakers into little piles on her empty plate. My mother would’ve made me sit with my hands folded and I’d have gotten in big trouble for getting up, but I’m glad the Romanovs seems a bit more at ease, at least when it comes to Ivy.
None of them are surprised that she’s here. I wonder if Aleks warned them ahead of time.
At one point, Ivy wriggles down from Polina’s lap. I expect her to come to me, but instead she taps Viktor’s arm. He’d be the last one whose arm I’d tap, but Ivy is undeterred.
Wordlessly, he reaches down and lifts her up onto his lap. She turns to face him and traces a finger down the side of his face, where stubble meets scars. Then ink on his neck. “Dirty,” she whispers, shaking her head. She lifts a napkin and dabs at the tattoo on his neck.
Polina snorts. “Out of the mouths of babes.”
Aleks winks at me, and my heart does a little somersault in my chest. I draw in a deep breath.
Lev is speaking animatedly with his hands, like we Italians do. Nikko watches. Unlike the others, he’s still eating. He cuts every piece of food with militaristic precision, sets his knife down, then carefully eats each bite. He doesn’t seem to be a man that’s quick to make decisions but rather is thoughtful and meditative. I was born and raised in the mafia, so I know how this goes. He’s skilled with a gun, careful and precise — this guy’s the assassin.