Page 64 of The Beauty Who Loved Him

“And your ride has arrived out front,” Igor added after a brief pause. “The General will be leaving first, and you are to quickly follow.”

He didn’t bother to ask how Igor could confirm the news. The man’s one responsibility when Vaslav was out on and on the move was to make sure his boss could do so safely. While he wasn’t always willing to blindly trust Igor, the man did know how to do his job.

Particularly well.

Behind the opaque aviator sunglasses that made the light streaming in from the many stained-glass windows slightly more bearable, Vaslav surveyed the lower section of the church long enough to be satisfied that no one down there was looking back at him. The heavy gold drapery framing every balcony from the outside, and around each balcony entrance on the other side, helped with that. At least, the plush, crushed red velvet chairs and thick piled carpeting make the balconies more comfortable for those who were deemed important enough to use them.

Like him.

And his mother.

Unfortunately.

Speaking of which, Vaslav decided his attention was better spent on the people inside the balcony at the moment. Especially because he now needed to slip out without causing unneeded attention and conversation when the funeral wasn’t even over.

Essentially, impossible.

Which already put Vaslav in a bad mood before he could even rise from his seat. Instead, he took a few seconds to massage the tension and pressure in his forehead and temples. The pain scale teetered somewhere between a too strong seven and a moderate eight. Not quite enough to keep him in bed or bent over a toilet, but enough to wind him when he had to so much as think.

Never mind talk.

Yet, time was something Vaslav didn’t have at the moment. A fact Igor chose to point out when he said quietly, “Fifteen minutes and the Prosecutor General’s limo is leaving, Vas. Before the parish starts to clear out.”

“As if it makes any damned difference,” he hissed right back.

Wisely, Igor didn’t reply.

Why would he?

Vaslav was right.

People would still see. Someone would recognize the luxury, stretch limo painted black with very specific flags on the front and back waiting at the front of the church, and given how many vory from the brotherhood had attended the funeral that day, it was highly unlikely that Vaslav entering said vehicle would also go unnoticed.

A politician, he was not.

“Vaslav, honey,” came his mother’s coo at his left. Vaslav hadn’t noticed that Natalia had leaned across the two-foot makeshift aisle between their chairs until she spoke. A great way to put him on an even sharper edge. There was something to be said for the skin-tight dress and blood red claw-like fingernails she opted for the day. The veil that fell around the stiff brim of her black hat didn’t hide how glassy her eyes were when he was this close to her face. “You really do need to take the sunglasses off. It’s not appropriate.”

While he couldn’t smell the vodka on her breath, the hot sourness of her words gave it away for him. His previously expressionless face pulled fast into a scowl as he turned to Natalia, and still wouldn’t take his sunglasses off.

“Mat, you’re only here because I needed at least two people from a family to reserve the balcony,” Vaslav said. There was something to be said about a church that would sell good seats to anyone with a big enough checkbook, but who was he to judge how priests funded their debauchery and bullshit? Igor didn’t count because he was working.

Unfortunately.

Natalia’s brows drew together, and anger lit up her gaze. Every word she snapped at him came with spittle and more sour breath. It took him straight back to his chaotic childhood on hard floors with aching bones as she stood above him, raging. “Excuse me, you invited—”

“Yes, I needed you. One last unfortunate time,” he interjected coldly.

Natalia, either too drunk or frustrated that she couldn’t get a proper rise out of her son, huffed back into her seat with arms folded over her chest and a childish pout set into her lips. Behind his aviators, Vaslav’s gaze narrowed on his mother.

She didn’t realize how little he needed her. That she was more of a problem; a thorn in his side that he hadn’t been able to remove for years because a part of him was just as human as her. He knew good and well why he was the way he was. A lot of it stemmed from her. Natalia wasn’t any different, and he never did see the point in killing a soul that was already dead.

Well, that was then.

“I despise you,” Vaslav said, making sure every word was clear for his mother to hear despite the fact that he kept his gaze focused on what was ahead of him in the balcony.

Igor cleared his throat behind Vaslav, muttering only, “Ten minutes.”

Better make this quick, then.