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I turn my head slowly to look at her, scarcely daring to believe she’s actually helping me right now.
Her gaze is apologetic as she meets her father’s furious gaze, and she bites her lip in a convincing imitation of shame. “I heard you call Mishka into the cigar room and thought I could catch you before your meeting began. But when I opened the door, I saw Mishka going down those stairs…” She gives a one-shouldered shrug as she gestures toward the cellar steps, then drops her gaze. “I’m sorry, Papachka. My curiosity got the better of me, so I followed him down. When Mishka saw me, he made me come back up.”
“Alina, you should know better,” Sergio scolds, though his countenance softens considerably, even in the midst of chastising her. “You’re well aware that you’re not allowed in the cigar room at all. You shouldn’t have opened the door in the first place. I’ve told you a hundred times, you’re always supposed to knock and get my permission.”
Alina looks contrite. Interlacing her fingers in front of herself, she swivels her leg like a little girl who just got caught with her hand in the cookie jar. “I know, Papachka. I really am sorry.”
Her teary voice is almost enough to convince me—when I know the truth of the matter—and I wait with bated breath for Sergio to let us off the hook. Because how could he not? Her performance is masterful.
“How far into the basement did you go?” Sergio asks, his voice gruff. “What did you see?”
Alina’s eyes flick to mine, the fire in them reminding me that she saw everything. And once again, I’m confident she’s going to rat me out. She can’t not tell her father what she saw now. Not when she likely fears his life is at stake.
Then her gaze shifts back to her father. “I only got to the bottom of the stairs before Mishka found me…” She pauses. “I saw tunnels.”
Sergio relaxes visibly, his shoulders softening, bringing him back down to his usual, still-towering height. “You’re never to come into this room again, Alina,” he says, his tone brooking no argument. “For any reason.”
Alina nods, dropping her eyes to the floor once again. “Yes, Papachka,” she murmurs.
“What did you want to see me about?” he asks after it’s apparent his daughter has heard his message loud and clear.
“Oh, um… it’s not important…” she hedges.
“Alina.” Sergio’s deep voice is severe, commanding her to tell him.
“I just wanted to ask for some spending money,” she rushes out. “Katie asked if we could go shopping tomorrow.” The blush that colors her cheeks makes Alina’s excuse that much more convincing.
I don’t know if her excuse is entirely fabricated or a half-truth, but I’m going to have a serious amount of groveling to do to thank her for her Oscar-worthy performance.
“Well, then, as punishment for disobeying the rules, you won’t be going shopping this weekend. Let that be a lesson to you. And I assure you that if I find out you’ve been in here again, your punishment will be far more severe next time. Am I understood?”
Alina nods.
Viktor smirks behind his father, finding humor in his sister’s scolding. In a flash, I can see that this scenario has played itself out so many times that it’s easy for Alina to convince her family of it.
She’s always been on the outside of her father’s business. She told me that early on. And she’s soaked up every detail of information I’ve imparted to her along the way. She wants to know, to understand, but Sergio won’t let her in—likely to protect her. Or from a misogynistic point of view that business is no place for a woman.
Either way, from the sound of it, I don’t think Alina even knew about the trap door into her father’s basement torture chamber until tonight. It’s a wonder she could regain her composure after everything she saw.
“I want to hear you say it, Alina,” he commands.
“I understand, Papachka,” she says, infusing her voice with disappointment. She lets her golden hair fall in a curtain around her face, masking her expression.
He gives a single curt nod that she wouldn’t have seen since her eyes remain glued to the toes of her shoes. Then he turns his cold gaze to me.
“Mishka, once again, it would seem I’m in your debt. Please escort my unruly daughter to her room and see that she stays there. I expect you to return downstairs once that’s done.” Sergio faces Viktor then, jerking his chin to indicate their business in the cigar room is finished.
“Gospodin,” I agree respectfully, glancing sidelong at Alina to see her reaction.
From beneath her thick lashes, she glares up at me with no small amount of hatred. Her look tells me that despite her assistance, I’m far from off the hook—even if she’s postponed my death sentence.
“And, Alina?” Sergio says, pausing on the stairs down.
She meets her father’s gaze once again, her lips forming a thin line.
“For the good of the Family, you’re never to speak of this basement’s existence or what you saw.”
Alina’s full lips part, the air rushing from her lungs as the color drains from her cheeks. “Yes, Father.”
