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“Once a year, the Varkov family comes together to catch up.”
“Oh.” My eyes twinkled. “So, it is a get-together then, of the Varkov clan.”
He glanced at me. “If we were children, yes. It would be a get-together.”
I laughed, and I caught his crooked smile. “Fine. The annual family day, it is.”
****
“Privet!” [Hello]
Thick Russian flew through the air, heavy laughter and clinking glasses followed. They exchanged greetings and said a whole bunch of things I didn’t understand.
When the introductions started, I stayed glued to his side, I was too intimidated.
Rafail introduced me to a few of his cousins. I met Igor and his lovely, spiky wife, Grace. They seemed to be the couple of the night for reasons unknown to me. Then, there was Damien and, finally, Vlad. The Vlad Varkov. The one who gave all the orders and sat at the helm of the Bratva.
I had always thought Rafail was scary. Until I saw the other men. Broader lines, black suits, piercing blue or dark eyes. They had the same look, the same domineering aura. And worse, the gloomy cloud hanging over their heads was even thicker.
I wasn’t sure when or why it happened, but when I glanced down at Rafail’s hand, his fingers intertwined with mine. It filled me with comfort and a sense of security.
We were about to go to the dining area when a woman called my name. “Julie!”
My head snapped to the side, and I looked over my shoulder. My jaw dropped. She was a person I was surprised to see in the hustle and bustle of the Varkov annual day. Someone I never thought I would see again. After her sudden disappearance from Denver, I was beginning to think that the worst had happened to her and sweet Xander.
My eyes widened and I threw my arms around her, excited and happy to see her.
“Oh my god! Nessa!”
She squealed, not hiding her surprise at seeing me too. “What are you doing here??”
Beside her stood a tall man with dark, wavy hair and a level gaze. He man hugged Rafail, clapped his shoulder, and the two began a conversation in Russian. I was glad they stepped to the side and gave us privacy.
Vanessa Collins—although she is now known as Mrs. Vanessa Petrov. She apparently didn't notice the news that Juliana Blair had married Rafail Varkov. It turned out that, she had fallen in love with a Bratva man, who was in fact the father of her son. And from the looks of it, she had settled in well.
“Is there a chance that you prefer Long John’s now?”
“Never. I stick with my donuts.” We laughed and she took me through the small crowd to meet other women, some of whom I’d already met at my wedding.
I felt heat tingling on my back. His eyes did not leave me. He watched me closely and guarded me, as he always did. I stifled a mischievous grin and nodded absent-mindedly when one of the women said something.
Life as the wife of a mafia boss was still new to me. I was only slowly getting used to it, and this annual day felt like an official introduction and a “showing off” of me.
Vanessa was the only one I could talk to for more than a minute. But she left soon after. Eventually, most of the people left and I was alone again in my reality.
I waited in a far corner, looking out the window, while a core group of Varkov men gathered at the oval table in the center of the room for a discussion. I saw the deference, awe, and respect they showed Rafail as he spoke. I wondered how great his power was and whether I knew him at all.
“… and you think they will easily surrender?”
“Da …” Vlad replied, saying something in Russian, his steely gaze holding mine from across the table. Rafail tilted his head, the ice in his eyes melting as he winked at me. And then he turned away again, while the rest of the conversation continued in their cryptic mother tongue.
Except for a few times when they spoke in English.
“…he’s a fucking pedophile. That bastard.”
“Good thing I fucked his whore until she gave up his hideout. Bastard.”
Since I had no idea who they were talking about, I was lost. I didn’t want to eavesdrop, but my ears twitched to tune in.
