Mikhail
“Maria Rostova is mine to deal with,” I say firmly. “Not yours.”
“Very well,” Alexander says, a hint of skepticism in his posh voice. “I’m glad that everything has been laid on the table.”
My head spins, and shadows appear in the corners of the room. Desmier, Father, and Mother-their voices seem to call out to me in unintelligible whispers. I struggle with clouded thoughts, and the vodka rushes down my tightening throat. Gasping, I need to know more before I can clear my mind. Turning my attention to the brigadiers, I press them for something, anything that might help me untangle this confusion.
Eyeing each one coldly, I ask them, “What proof do you have of her involvement?”
“Ah, yes.” Ippolit glances away. His manner is stiller than water and just as deep. He pulls out his phone, taps the screen, and slides it to me.
A redhead woman working behind a bar is on the phone. But it’s not anyone that I recognize.
“This is the daughter of Vito Genovesi,” Ippolit explains. “A caporegime of Emilio Lanzzare, and a distant relative to Emilio himself.”
“I know that place …” My heart pounds in my chest, and I struggle to breathe.
And then I remember something else.
The first time I met Maria, she asked me for the address to that very same bar.
“Tell us, my pakhan,” Alexander chimes in, smugness creeping into his tone. “Today is a day that we don’t keep secrets.”
The room feels as though it’s closing in, and the shadows won’t back away. My vision darkens with the weight of this knowledge, threatening to unleash something vile in me.
“Maria asked me how to get to that bar when I first met her …” I finally say.
And just like that, strength drains from my body, and I slump into the chair.
“That explains Larissa Gennadyevna’s story …” Alexander muses.
“What are you talking about?” I snap.
Alexander looks at Ippolit, and a silent decision is made that Ippolit should be the one to tell me.
“The day Maria went shopping with Larissa Gennadyevna,” Ippolit begins, “they stopped by a building owned by Vito Genovesi. The same one that his daughter ‘rents’ an apartment from, where she works in the bar on the ground floor. At first, Maria told your sister she had never been to the place, and then she told her she had worked there for a day. And then the two of them disappeared into the bathroom, seemingly arguing.”
I glare at Alexander. “The three of you questioned my sister?” I ask angrily.
“We only wanted her help filling in some gaps in our information,” Alexander interjects quickly. “Your sister is too attached to the girl. She is nursing a viper in her bosom, even if she doesn’t realize it.”
“Furthermore,” Ippolit leans forward, steepling his fingers. “We have reason to believe that Maria has found a way to communicate with her father.”
“How?” I ask.
“We’re not sure yet,” he replies nonchalantly. “But we’ve noticed that the Lanzzare are getting bolder in tailing you. The dead man at the shower was a Lanzzare informant.”
“He wanted to hurt her,” I snap, refusing to accept their accusations. “He had a knife.”
“Meant for you,” Gunsyn sneers. “How do you know he wasn’t trying to pass that knife to her?”
“No.” I shake my head. “No, she ran away from him.”
She can’t. She can’t possibly be in it to betray me. To kill me!
Gunsyn watches me with a taunting grin, folding his arms over his chest. “So, the bitch can act. Have you questioned her about that man? Or were you too busy playing house with her?”
“Enough!” I yell, unable to stand their satisfaction any longer.
“Very well.” Alexander’s snake-like expression is dripping with contempt. “I’m glad we finally had a chance to talk about this, my pakhan.”
I watch the brigadiers’ faces, searching for any hint of deception. There’s a twisted delight in their eyes, having delivered this terrible news.
“The engagement wasn’t my idea!” I slam my fist on the desk, ignoring the pain. “The three of you suggested it.”
“We suggested an engagement, my pakhan.” Ippolit looks at me with cold, uncaring eyes. “You went ahead and planned a wedding.”
“Because you told me that I had to be convincing!” I snarl.
“We didn’t tell you to be so convincing that you started falling for the bitch,” Gunsyn grunts.
“Love makes people do foolish things, my pakhan,” Ippolit says in his whispery voice. “Don’t let it cloud your judgment. Go to her and question her thoroughly. Don’t be taken by her false innocence. That girl is a wolf in sheep’s clothing. And if you do not find the truth from her, one night, you’ll wake up with a knife at your throat.”
I walk toward the door, swing it on its hinges, and rush toward the exit to the warehouse without looking back.
The doors slowly close and I’m trapped with my own thoughts.
Can I trust Maria? And if I do, at what cost? The shadows around me seem to grow darker, more sinister, as I contemplate my next move.
The silence that follows is deafening, and I’m left to wonder if Maria will be the very thing that destroys me in the end.
The weight of my rashness and responsibility sits heavy on my shoulders, but I can’t let it pull me down. I have to protect my family-the one I was born into and the one I lead.