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I roll my eyes and get back to eating.
Dinner drifts past. Feliks doesn’t cause anymore outbursts. Jasha keeps up a steady stream of teasing jokes about Melinda though, and eventually Feliks gets pissed off—and drunk enough—to storm off. Father frowns his disapproval, but soon the meal is over and Galina’s dragging Siena off along with Emiliya. “We’re giving her a tour!” Galina says, and before I can argue, they’re gone.
“Don’t worry,” Mother says, smiling kindly. She put a hand on my shoulder. “They’re good girls.”
“Allegedly,” I say, shaking my head.
Jasha leaves with a wink and a raised glass.
I’m alone with Father. He looks at me carefully and I finish my vodka. The silence is so heavy, it’s like a weight directly on my chest. The staff is smart enough to keep out while we’re alone.
Finally, he sits back, takes a long cigar from his pocket, and puts it in his mouth. He doesn’t offer me one.
“What were you thinking, bringing her here?”
I grimace at his words. I’ve been asking myself that question all day.
“We have an arrangement,” I say without looking at him. “It won’t affect the business.”
“It better not.” Father chews on his cigar. “You understand your position, don’t you, boy?”
I hate his tone. It’s dripping with scorn. I look at him, tensing my jaw.
“Have I ever failed you?”
“Not yet.” He tilts his head. “But this is close.”
“She’s just a girl. My mistress. That’s all.”
“An Italian mafia Don’s daughter.” He wrinkles his nose. “Feliks is rude, but he’s not wrong.”
My hand tightens around my glass. “Feliks is a fool, and you are too if you agree with him.”
A spark of something in my father’s eye. I so rarely stand up to him, and that was walking a fine line. If I outright called him foolish, that would be grounds for punishment—and potentially death, if that’s what he wanted. Instead of rage, he seems amused.
“You have your position on merit, Maxim. You are good at your work, I’ll give you that. You’re dedicated to the family and you’re ruthless. I see some of myself in you, but you’re not my blood. You understand that, don’t you?”
I nod once. “Yes, Father.”
I understand it better than he knows. I’m reminded every day that I’m an outsider, that I don’t belong.
That I’m adopted.
It means I have to try twice as hard to succeed. My brothers are given everything, because they are my father’s sons. They are from his loins and of his blood, while I’m not. Yes, I’m related to him—he’s my biological uncle—but that doesn’t matter.
I’ll always be the adopted son, never the true son.
“Make sure this girl isn’t trouble. If she causes so much as a single issue, I will hold you accountable. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Father.”
“Good. Now go.” He takes a lighter from his pocket and raises the flame to the cigar.
I get to my feet. My head pounds with fury but I keep it at bay. After everything I’ve done for this family, all the blood on my hands, he has the nerve to talk to me like that—like I don’t deserve a mistress of my own if I so choose. I knew he wouldn’t approve, but I didn’t expect him to be so demeaning.
It enrages me. I’ve done nothing but bring this family wealth and prosperity. I’ve killed countless enemies and succeeded in ways my brothers never have, and it’s still not enough. All he can see are my faults. All he can see is my blood.
I reach the door, but before I can leave, he speaks. “Maxim? One more thing.”
