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11
Kira took a sip of her champagne and looked at the women convened around the table. The city bustled beyond the large window of the private dining room at 312 Chicago, but inside they were cocooned in a sea of rich mahogany and patterned carpets, bottles of wine lining the walls.
The woman to her right leaned closer, speaking softly under the conversation of the other women. “This is such a lovely gesture. Thank you for inviting me.”
Kira smiled. “Of course. It’s so nice to get to know each other.”
Of all the women at the table, Annie Kamenev was the one Kira most identified with. In appearance, they couldn’t have been more different, Annie’s hair dark as a raven, her eyes almost as black.
But Annie was the beloved only sister to Borya, one of the brigadiers on the fence about Lyonya, and Kira happened to know that Annie was Borya’s closest confidant. Kira had been following the pair for some time, and their relationship struck a familiar chord: the two of them alone, Borya consulting Annie in business matters, sometimes even changing his mind about something if she made an especially compelling argument.
Their relationship seemed not unlike the one Kira shared with her father, and since Kira had always had the power to persuade her father with a reasoned argument, she was willing to bet Annie held the same sway over her brother.
“How is the life of a newlywed?” Annie asked, her eyes bright. “You didn’t take a honeymoon!”
Kira shook her head. “The time… didn’t seem right.”
Annie’s eyes lit with understanding. “I’m sure you’re right.” She glanced at the other three women, engaged in conversation around the table. “This was a good idea.”
Kira hesitated. “Most of the men like to think we do nothing but shop and gossip. It might be true in some cases, but I happen to think the women around this table, yourself included, know more than they’re given credit for.”
Annie leaned back in her chair and looked at Kira with appraising eyes. “I always knew you were smart.”
“I could say the same about you,” Kira said. “I’m sure it was a shock to you and Borya — to everyone — to hear of my marriage to Lyonya. To hear my father’s endorsement of Lyonya as pakhan. I want to reassure you, to reassure all the women at this table, that he is determined to see that everyone’s needs are met.”
“Borya is a simple man,” Annie said. “And I say that with admiration. He’s had things well in hand since the death of our parents. Long-term security has always been his greatest concern.”
They were speaking in a sort of code now, and Kira found herself liking Annie even more. The other woman was telling Kira what her brother wanted.
It wasn’t a surprise to Kira. She’d guessed security was Borya’s biggest motivation based on the holdings he requested, which were sometimes smaller than others, a factor that was offset by their stability.
Still, it was helpful to have her instincts validated by Annie, which was the whole point of the private brunch Kira was hosting at 312 Chicago. She’d invited the women over a week ago and had spent the time since attending to every detail, ensuring the finest champagne be served alongside fresh squeezed grapefruit juice, strong coffee, salmon flown in that morning from Alaska, an assortment of bagels and crisp breads, delicate crepes, fresh fruit, eggs Benedict, and enough caviar to feed a Russian army.
“Borya is wise,” Kira said to Annie. “Stability is often overlooked in the name of short-term gain.” She took another drink of her champagne, then met the other woman’s eyes. “I wonder if a position with the Spies would suit him.”
The Two Spies reigned directly under the pakhan in the bratva hierarchy. They reported to him, served him. But it was a lifetime appointment — barring any unforeseen circumstance — and the money wasn’t subject to fluctuating holdings the way it was for the units run by brigadiers.
Annie’s smile was knowing. “We’ve never spoken of it.” Kira doubted that, but she understood the game they were playing, admired Annie for playing it. The women around the table advised their men in private. To let the other men know their wives and daughters and sisters were active in decision making was to show weakness. It was outdated and patriarchal, but Kira had to work with things as they were, not as she wished they were. “But I suspect a position with the Spies might suit him.”
“Perhaps you could ask him,” Kira suggested. “Lyonya is looking to modernize the organization at every level. A man with Borya’s intellect and experience could inform that modernization.”
“It will make for an interesting dinner conversation,” Annie said.
Kira laughed and one of the other women looked their way.
“You’re having entirely too much fun down there,” Nadia Polotov said with a smile. “You must be talking about the men.”
About forty, with wild blond hair and blue eyes that seemed to see everything, Nadia was genuine and practical. She was married to Luka, a quiet brigadier who played his cards close to his vest. Of all the men represented at the table, Luka’s desires were the most enigmatic.
Kira grinned at Nadia. “How did you know?”
“What else brings us so much amusement?” Nadia asked.
Next to her, Aksana Kamenev sniffed, clearly offended. It wasn’t surprising. Being uptight was practically a prerequisite of being married to her husband Michael, an older brigadier who was averse to change of any kind, even when that change might benefit him.
Kira moved to avert disaster. She needed everyone at the table on the same page, for this one meal at least. “Yes, but that’s why we love them, isn’t it?”
Nadia lifted her glass of champagne. “Here, here.”
