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Luka’s sister seats Irina in a chair and sidesteps me to grab a glass from a cabinet while Luka tries to talk to his mother.
He murmurs something to her, and she brings a hand to the side of his face.
“I’m so glad you’re here, Dima,” she says in a weary voice. “Where is your wife? Did she come with you? Are you hungry?”
Luka’s spine stiffens and Nikolai rubs his temple, exchanging a glance with Tori. She shakes her head and throws her hands into the air.
“It’s not Dima, Mom. I’m Luka.”
“Oh, Luka,” she says, and there is a hint of disappointment in her clouded voice. “Is everything okay? You’re not in trouble again, are you? After the last time–”
“Jesus Christ,” Luka mutters. He straightens up and stalks away from his mother, focusing on his sister instead. “How drugged up is she, Tori?”
I reach out to graze his arm, but he shakes it off. “Don’t,” he warns me through clenched teeth.
Just as suddenly as it appeared in the car, the sweet, soft demeanor is gone.
Now he’s pure darkness again.
“She needed some medication,” Tori hisses. “She’s been a fucking wreck since everything happened. And she’s been calling me Valentina since the night Dad and Dima died, by the way. So it’s not just you she doesn’t recognize. What was I supposed to do? She took a few Xanax.”
“How many is a few? The whole damn bottle?” He nods toward his mother. “She’s on a whole goddamn other planet right now.”
“Don’t get pissed off at everyone else because she mistook you for Dima,” Tori mutters. “She’s out of her mind right now. It doesn’t mean anything. And if she thinks you’re him, it means she doesn’t realize he’s gone,” she says, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Let’s spare her the anguish right now, okay?”
“Sure, let’s just sweep it under the rug like we do with everything, right?” Luka shakes one of the near-empty orange medicine bottles and rolls his eyes. “We don’t talk about the shit that can get people killed or thrown in jail because it makes us look weak, right? Like we’re not the strongest or the richest, like we don’t have enemies. And because it makes us vulnerable.”
Nikolai grabs Luka’s arm. “Forget this shit. Let’s do what we came to do.”
But Luka doesn’t move. He holds Tori’s shocked gaze and continues his tirade.
“Maybe it was the prince who plunged us into this downward spiral, and because nobody bothered to pay attention to what the hell was happening, we’re sitting fucking ducks right now. So yeah, let Mom be oblivious. Let everyone else run around with their heads up their asses, not willing to make a move because of the damage it might do.”
Luka stabs a finger at his own chest. “I was the one willing to put my ass on the line for this family. Not Dima. He sat in his goddamn ivory tower while I was on the ground keeping things safe for us. Until Resnov fucked me and got me put in jail. And after all those years, look at what the hell he and Dad let happen. And nobody questioned anything, not even Val’s fucking sham marriage. Just keep sweeping, Tori.”
Luka looks at me, anger flickering in the depths of his icy gaze. “Stay here. This won’t take long.” He drags Nikolai out of the kitchen without another word to his sister.
Tori folds her arms over her chest and stares daggers at me. “He’s a loose cannon. That’s why he ended up in jail in the first place.”
“Maybe that’s just the story you were told.”
“Maybe. But I make my own decisions based on information I’m given. I don’t just accept things at face value. And Luka has a history of fucking things up.”
“But now he’s in charge.”
“He is. And Dad and Dima are dead, and Val is missing.” She lifts an eyebrow. “How would you feel knowing that your entire family is potentially at risk?”
“So Taras got into your head.”
“He makes a good point about the takedown conspiracy.” She shrugs, sliding a knife out of the butcher block and turning it over in her hand. “His arguments make sense.”
I swallow hard, eyeing the glimmering stainless steel tip. “He’s just paranoid and desperate to find answers.”
“Maybe. But he still might be right. He’ll do everything he can to prove it, too. And if we find out you really are the bait, Natasha,” Tori says as she picks an apple out of a bowl and places it on the cutting board. She slams her hand down, the knife whizzing through the air as it splits the apple in two. “Just imagine yourself as that apple.”
