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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
Leaningin 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.
I shiver and lift my empty shot glass for another refill. Half an hour later, Ivy’s made the rounds and visited with everyone at the table. Lev looked a bit awkward but spoke to her kindly, explaining why he had “boo boos” and “Band-Aids.” Nikko poured her a glass of water and made funny little animals with his cloth napkin. When she reached Kolya, dessert was served. He broke little bites of cookies onto his plate and handed her each one. But when she got to Ekaterina, she reached her arms out to her and laid her head on her chest. When I looked upa few minutes later, Ivy was asleep on her shoulder, Ekaterina stroking her back.
I look over at her, a bit jealous. I want to hold my sleeping daughter, but I’m glad that she has a safe place with Ekaterina.
