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“Will do. Are you coming to dinner?”
“Plans,” he says as he walks past.
I watch him go. He disappears down the stairs, the iron railing creaking under his bulk. My brothers are all big men, as big as me or larger. Feliks is only twenty-two, but he’s the oldest. Next is Jasha at twenty, and then the girls, Galina and Emiliya, eighteen and sixteen respectively.
A big family. Lots of children. Three strong, clever, healthy boys, and two spoiled Russian princesses. Our numbers make us strong and our blood keeps us united.
Except for me. My blood unites me to nobody.
Which is why I have to work twice as hard as the rest of them.
I turn away and head to the end of the hall. The library is around the corner and through a large oak door. The floor is covered in a green and red carpet with a low pile and intricate patterns. Massive wooden bookshelves hold ancient, rotting, leather-bound tomes that nobody bothers reading except for my little sister Emiliya, and only then because she likes hiding out from everyone in here.
My father sits near the window with a blanket in his lap, his bald head gleaming. Damir Novalov is the Pakhan and leader of the Novalov Bratva, and with it the heavy responsibility of running our massive organization sits on his shoulders. He looks down at a laptop perched on a bay windowsill, frowning at an email before I clear my throat to announce myself.
He looks over and closes the computer lid. “You’re back. I was beginning to wonder.”
“It’s been a busy day.”
Father gestures at a chair. “Come sit.”
I hesitate. All I want is to take a shower and think more about Siena. She’s in my blood now, singing like a songbird. I can’t get rid of her, but I also can’t walk away from the direct order from my Pakhan and my father. I don’t have the same luxury and leniency that’s given to Feliks and Jasha. I love them dearly, but they don’t understand what it’s like to be the outsider, and they never will.
I sit and stretch my legs.
“You met with Bastone,” Father prompts, nodding at me. “And what did you think?”
I scowl at the window. Clouds drifts across a fat, silver moon. “You know what I think.”
“Yes, I understand your objections. But you saw the operation. What are you impressions?”
I clench my jaw. Father knows I don’t want anything to do with the flesh trade, and I think that’s why he assigned me to deal with this. He has a sick sense of humor, my father does, and he’ll take any opportunity to put me in my place.
To remind me of what I am.
Family, but not quite family.
“Bastone’s clever,” I say finally, accepting that I can’t avoid this forever. “His operation seems well done. The Velvet Rope is impressive. I didn’t stay long, but I’ll go back for another visit soon.”
“I’ve heard things about Bastone,” Father says. “There are vicious rumors about him. I hear he locked his own daughter in a cage for some unknown reasons. The girl’s been missing for months.”
I shrug. “I didn’t see any cages. Only working girls.”
“I assume he keeps the cages out of sight.” Father gives me a sharp smile and his eyes sparkle. He’s in his sixties, but he’s still sharp as a tack. He’s frailer than he used to be, but I know a lot of his apparently weakness is an act more than anything. I’ve watched that man wolf down massive meals, drink more vodka than should be possible, and wake up the next morning to run four miles. Damir Novalov is getting older, but he’s still a vicious killer.
I look away toward the fireplace. Above it, an ancient shield hangs above the stone mantle. A Russian bear is carved into the wood—the symbol of our family. That’s my father, the big bear, the monster beast of the forest. I scowl at the thing, because I never associated myself with it. The bear is for the Novalovs, and I am a Novalov only in name.
And my father never lets me forget it.
“Do not worry so much about this, Maxim,” Father says. “Once you’ve ascertained whether they’re worth doing business with or not, I will assign someone else to take over.”
“And if I decide they’re not worthy?”
“Then you will find another family to partner with.” Father’s eyes narrow. “We are moving into the flesh trade, boy. You will not resist that any further. Do I have your blood and your loyalty?”
I clench my jaw. It burns, that question. How dare he ask that of me when he knows I’d take a bullet for him? I’d die for any member of my family, even Feliks. “Yes, Father. You have it. You know you do.”
“Good.” He waves a hand. “Return to Bastone and tell him I am very interested in moving forward. Make this happen, Maxim.”
