Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 75209 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75209 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
My father smiles and looks thoughtful, then nods and responds in Russian. What the hell? I plunk my menu down.
Another warning squeeze of my knee has me immediately wet. Ugh. He can’t turn me on in here. It’s completely inappropriate.
As my father scans the restaurant, I sneak a glance at Markov, who is staring hard at his phone, deeply concentrating, it seems.
“I don’t mean to insult you, Vera,” my father says with what appears to be genuine kindness. I know better. “I just don’t know why you’re putting so much time and effort into your studies when you know the expectations of marrying and settling down are likely your lot in life.”
My cheeks color. I hate how easily I give myself away by blushing, but I’ve never managed to figure out how not to.
“In the modern age, women do both, Father.”
My father snorts, but Markov speaks up. “In my family, we have two women who are unparalleled with their skills. One is exceptionally brilliant with cyber security, while the other’s a marksman like no other.”
“I hear you’re quite skilled yourself with a weapon?” my father asks. “I’d like to see that sometime.”
A waiter appears out of nowhere and brings my father a bottle of wine. He makes a big show of tasting it and pouring it into wine glasses. Still, I take the glass gratefully.
The two of them continue their conversation in Russian for a few moments until Markov looks at me. “Vera doesn’t speak Russian yet,” he says. “We should continue in English.”
My father gives me a look of disdain. “That’s her mother’s fault,” he says, his cheeks flushed already from the effects of the wine and likely something more. He took it as a matter of personal injury that my mother wouldn’t have him back after he cheated on her my entire childhood. She stayed with him, but I knew she had no choice. A woman does not divorce her Bratva husband, especially one whose entire world revolves around his self-image.
I decide instead of discussing my own work, which he’s disinterested in any way, to steer the conversation back to my father’s favorite topic of conversation—him. “Tell me what brings you to Moscow this time, Father.”
He sits up straighter and nods to Markov. “I had business with Markov’s aunt. She unfortunately couldn’t join us for dinner this evening due to a previous engagement and sends her well wishes to you, Vera. She says she hopes to meet you in the near future.”
I stare at my father, uncomprehending at first. How is he so cavalier about his infidelity?
“Who is she?” I ask, my voice dangerously low. “A young little something you picked up on one of your latest travels to a foreign land? Someone who didn’t know you were married with children?”
My father laughs too loudly and snaps his fingers at the waitress. I flinch at the obvious rudeness. “Child,” he says with a laugh. “Vera, my love, look at you. You’re a full-grown woman. An adult. I have no children. You’re my daughter, yes, but a man of my stature and age has the privilege of associating with whomever he chooses.”
I saw how the infidelity wore my mother down. I witnessed how he would gallivant around the world with his mistress of the week, but should she ever do the same, her punishment would be severe and swift. There was the double-standard as a Bratva wife; don’t expect fidelity from your husband, but a woman was expected to bear the ring and name of one man for life, no matter how philandering he might be.
“Please,” I say in a soft voice, not wanting to draw attention to us. “You do what you must, but there’s no need for me to meet whoever she is. Whether you like it or not, I’m faithful to my mother.”
I down the rest of my wine. My father’s face colors and his fingers tighten around his wine glass.
“I’ll have you remember you’re my daughter, Vera Ivanova,” he says in that chilling voice that, even now, never fails to send an unwanted shiver down the back of my neck. It was the voice he used before he broke things or lashed out.
He wouldn’t do that here, would he?
“I know exactly who I am,” I counter, leaning closer to him. “I’ll ask that you do the same.”
My father reaches a hand out for me, but Markov intercepts him.
“Sir, this is neither the time nor place for a show of power,” he says in that quiet way of his. Since he spoke in English, the words were for my ears as well. “If our presence has upset you, I’m happy to escort Vera back to her apartment, and you can give my aunt my best wishes.”
My father stares at Markov’s hand on his wrist and seems to come to his senses. Markov is younger and stronger than my father, but my father outranks him. However, Markov has a bargaining chip. His aunt is my father’s lover. Markov has the ability to pull some strings.