Mikhail
Old family photographs are scattered across the low table where I sit in my office as the rain pelts the glass. As a kid, I enjoyed the sound of rain, but as a man, it puts me on edge. The sharp, tiny bursts remind me too much of the sound of gunshots.
“Brooding again, Kolya?” Larissa’s voice startles me as she enters my office. She’s wearing bright red and deep yellow, as if filling in for the absent sun.
I try to smile, but I can’t. “It’s my default mode, Lara.”
“You were always the moody one.” She tosses her wet umbrella onto the floor with a careless grace only she could pull off.
“Careful, or I’ll revoke your sibling privileges,” I warn her, attempting to lighten my mood.
“You wouldn’t dare,” she replies evenly.
She hasn’t visited the penthouse in weeks. And I notice both her absence and coldness.
She strides over and sits down beside me, a smile breaking out slightly when she notices the Kaori painting I’ve been staring at for the last hour.
“Chrysanthemum,” she says. “Mom’s favorite flower.”
But the single bloom suspended in the air now reminds me of someone else. I nod.
“I commissioned it,” I reply passively.
She glances at the family photographs on the table and a small sketch of Maria I had framed. She stares at it, uncertain of how to react. “Your true talent is wasted, Kolya.”
I reach for my glass, and the ice has melted into the scotch, creating layers of translucent amber in the glass. I don’t want to hear her comments and say so tersely. “Lara, don’t.”
“You always want what you can’t have.” Larissa ignores my request as she picks up the framed sketch. “Kolya, don’t let Father’s toxic legacy consume you.”
With a low sigh, she places the picture down. “You’ve been so wrapped up in it that you’re not living your own life. You’re living his.”
“I’m not doing it for Father.” I place the sketch facedown. “I’m doing it for Desmier.”
Her expression softens. “Stop blaming yourself for his death, Kolya.”
I snap. “If it wasn’t for me, he’d still be alive.”
“Stop it, Mikhail,” Larissa says sternly. “You were a boy. You couldn’t have known what would happen. Desmier chose his own path. He wasn’t going to die of old age.” Larissa takes my handand grips it to emphasize her meaning. “You worshipped a brother who never existed, and he was my brother long before he was yours. He could be loving, yes, but also ruthless and cruel beyond your wildest imagination.”
Larissa’s words sting because I know she’s right, but the guilt refuses to loosen its grip. “No matter what you want to believe, Lara, I’m responsible now. If I don’t act, who will?”
“Listen to me, Kolya. You’re not responsible for every bad thing that happens.” She scoffs and shakes her head. “Even if you want to believe that.”
I pull my hand out of her grip and avoid her intense gaze.
“Please, Kolya,” her voice trembles. “For the sake of our family, for your own sanity, let go of this vendetta. And focus on the ones who are still here and need you.”
The momentary silence is complete because we both know who she’s referring to. Larissa has Rurik, but Maria only has me … or her father.
Larissa walks to the bar cart and pours a scotch on the rocks. “Enough with the self-flagellation,” she continues. “You’re not doing any one any good by dwelling on the past.” She swirls the ice in the glass and takes a sip.
Her words sting like a slap in the face, and I decide to share the truth she doesn’t know. “Desmier was tricked. The hit he accepted in my stead? It was a setup by Zakhar.”
Larissa’s face pales. “Are you sure?”
My jaw tightens as I stare at the painting. “That’s what Gunsyn told me.”
“Gunsyn,” Larissa murmurs as her eyes narrow in anger. “Why are you so quick to believe him?” She sits beside me. “Kolya, listen to me.” She leans in, desperate for me to hear her words. “Don’t let Father’s brigadiers make you continue his war. Their war.”
I take a swallow of my watery drink. “Their war is mine. No matter what, the Lanzzare are our enemies, and Zakhar has been working alongside them ever since Maria’s arrival.”
“Kolya, the old generation is gone.” Larissa inhales deeply. “Don’t throw your life or Maria’s life away for them.”
For a moment, I stare at Larissa. The instant I think of Maria, I want her again. But I’m not sure I’m strong enough to resist the siren call at the top of the spiral stairs.
Larissa sinks back into the couch, but her gaze rests on the gray sky out the window. “Have you forgotten what Gunsyn and Alexander did, Mikhail?” Larissa’s question brings back my focus. “What Ippolit tried to do?”
I can’t have this conversation with Maria, but I can have it with Larissa.
“I haven’t forgotten, and I don’t trust them.” The words are both liberating and damning.
“Yet you hold them near you.” Larissa sits up, and her attention is on me. “Why?” Larissa’s tone is harsh. “They’re old, arrogant men who don’t respect you.”
“They know something,” I reply. “And I won’t find out if I don’t keep them close,” I snap. “And whether I like it or not, I still need them.”
“Just promise me something, Kolya.” Larissa leans her head on my shoulder. “That your need for them won’t cause you to push what’s left of this family away.”
“I won’t, Lara.”
I look away, my eyes focusing on a photograph on the table. It’s an old picture of Desmier and me, taken as kids. In it, Desmier grins ear to ear, his arm wrapped around me as if he could shield me from the world. A pang of guilt shoots through me, but I mask it with a hard expression.
Larissa follows my gaze and picks up the photograph. “Desmier was always more.”
“Meaning?” I ask, furrowing my brow.
“His love for us was unquestionable,” she answers, “but his capacity for violence was greater than any force.”
“Everyone has their demons,” I whisper, knowing I have my own.
“True,” Larissa concedes. “But deep down, we both know that there was only one way his path would have ended.”
“Maybe,” I admit reluctantly. “But if only I had been there instead of him …”
“It wouldn’t have mattered.” Larissa sighs as she pulls away from me. “You can be violent, Kolya, but it doesn’t drive you. Not like it did him.” She pauses. “Where is Maria?”
“She’s upstairs.”
Larissa stands and tilts her chin. “Good. I’m going to go and talk sense into her too.”