He could have not donated at all, ignoring a problem that didn’t affect him. Spent the money on something—or someone—else.
It’s 10:17 a.m. here; 6:17 p.m. in Russia.
The keyboard is tinier than on my normal phone. Typing two words takes me a minute. I send it before I can second-guess, scared of the hope that flares in my chest.
Maybe I won’t have to wait weeks to hear from him this time.
Maybe he’ll call to sayyou’re welcome, and I’ll get to hear his voice.
Maybe the donation was his way of saying he wants more too.
THE DEVIL YOU KNOW
“Shouldn’t you be with Victoria?”
Aleksandr looks genuinely confused by the question. “Why?”
“Because she’s due to give birth at any minute.”
“The doctor is on call. I’ll hear when the baby is born.”
If necessary, I would take a bullet for my brothers. They’re blood. But I don’t particularly like either of them.
Aleksandr is too similar to our father—never content and always cold.
Maksim is the opposite extreme. He enjoys the money and power that accompany carrying the Sokolov name, leaving Aleksandr and me—mostly me—to handle what’s required to retain both. Maksim was trained, same as us, but only uses violence as a last resort. My younger brother probably knows exactly how many men he’s killed. I lost count a long time ago.
“You should show up sooner,” I state.
“What am I supposed to do?” Aleksandr’s focus remains on the scantily clad women dancing onstage.
Just like Igor.
If he were less distracted, he’d be more irritated by this conversation. Aleksandr hates being questioned—another trait he learned from our father.
He’s not really asking, so I say nothing. I try to relax. To hear the low, pulsing beat and see the dancers moving in perfect synchronization to the sultry beat.
“You finally crawled out of your hole?”
I glance at Aleksandr, surprised to find his attention on me rather than remaining on the women. He’s sharp when necessary, but I doubted my presence would rate as relevant inside his favorite club.
“It’s a long flight.”
A trip he hasn’t made since he turned eighteen. Aleksandr is too valuable to negotiate or enforce agreements. Maksim is too impulsive and lacks any diplomacy.
“Yet you never complain.”
“I just did.”
He cracks a smile at that. I get a glimpse of the boy who used to huddle on the stairs with me, eavesdropping on what was happening downstairs. Even at that age, we knew what was coming. We never had to be told what was expected. We were determined to be as ready as possible.
You can’t truly prepare for this life though. It attacks. You learn to fight back, or you have no life.
I hope Victoria delivers a son. Aleksandr would ready him the same way he tried to assist me. A daughter? He’d ignore. And Aleksandr needs to care more.
I need to care less.
My phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out to see an incoming call from Igor. So does Aleksandr.
