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His eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”
“You can lie to your uncle,” I said. “Lie to him that you’ve sent me back to New York. See how he reacts. And when he reacts, look at his hands.”
He arched a brow. “Why?”
I took his hands in mine, brushing my thumbs over their backs. “If he fidgets with his hands, then you know he’s nervous. Then you know that he has something to hide.”
It was one of the first lessons that Luca had taught me. He told me that was the reason so many people chose to keep their hands busy when they were nervous, such as holding a glass or tucking them into their pockets.
“Meet with him. Lie to him. Then watch his hands.”
Aleksey gave me an inscrutable look. “Fine,” he finally said. “But if I so much as get a whiff of danger, you’re going back to New York.”
He pulled me close to him for an embrace, letting me feel his heart beat in time with mine. I knew from his tone that there would be no arguing with him if he did decide to send me back to my father in New York.
But I knew that I at least had been able to delay the inevitable.
I knew that I won a small victory.
And that would be enough for now.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Aleksey
I straightened my jacket as I waited on my uncle, looking down at the headstone that now decorated my father’s grave. Even seeing his name etched on the granite still didn’t make it feel real that he was gone.
It was the first time since his death that I visited him. I had avoided it, using every excuse under the sun. First it was the wedding, and then it was taking care of the transition of power within the Bratva. Then some other excuses that I’d all but forgotten.
All of them lies.
The truth was that I didn’t think I was ready to see him here. I didn’t think I was ready to confront the fact that he was really gone.
I didn’t hate him completely, even after the unforgivable thing he did to me.
Let’s fly away together, Aleks. Just you and me.
I clenched my fist, forcing the voice of a ghost away so that I might focus on the present.
This had to be done. If I was to face off against my uncle, then I needed to first accept the reality that my father was gone. So, I remain rooted here, staring at the silent tombstone and waiting for Uncle Misha to arrive.
“Alyosha.”
I turned and found my uncle standing a few feet away with a blank expression on his face.
“Uncle Misha,” I acknowledged with a nod. “Thank you for coming.”
He drew closer, his eyes on the headstone. “This is not exactly the place I would have chosen.”
I didn’t react. I couldn’t have him thinking that I suspected something from him. I didn’t know what he would do if he thought I did.
“Last place we could be ambushed,” I said. “Do you approve?”
He laughed, but his easygoing attitude didn’t ease the tension from my shoulders. “I do, Alyosha,” he finally said and turned to the mound of dirt covering my father’s grave. “Hard to believe he’s gone. He’d been looking forward to having you back. He missed you terribly.”
“And I missed him,” I said slowly, the corner of my gaze trained on Uncle Misha’s hands. “Too bad he was betrayed before I could return.”
Uncle Misha cleared his throat, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. “Betrayed?”
