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“I’ve never told you exactly how our mother died,” he says softly. “I know what you were told.”
“She was killed in a car accident.” I press my lips together, feeling that sick, cold feeling spread. “When I was little. That’s whatpapaalways said—”
“He had her killed.” Nikolai’s voice is flat and hard. “Because she was unfaithful.”
“What?” I stare at my brother, my hands suddenly clenched so hard in my lap that I can feel my nails biting into my palms. “What do you mean? That can’t be true. And even if it was—”
How is that fair?I know my father wasn’t faithful to her. I have no proof of that, but I know the kind of man my father was, and how the men of the Bratva are. If my brother is faithful to Lilliana—and I believe he is—he’s the exception to them all. “So she was killed for what all the men around her do with impunity? That’s—” The horror of it stops my tongue. I can’t think of what to say, what could possibly be said that could ever make any of it any better. The entire idea is so awful it doesn’t bear talking about, but Nikolai is saying it out loud, and to hear him tell it, he’s known it for a long time.
“How could you not tell me? How could he—”
“The cruel reality of the world we live in,” Nikolai says, in that same blank tone, almost as if I hadn’t spoken. I know then with a deadly finality that Theo can never, ever find out about Adrik. If I have to open an artery to bleed enough on our wedding night, he can’t suspect that I’m not a virgin. Suddenly, the little trick Adrik pulled tonight seems less erotic, and more terrifying.
“What does any of that have to do with my betrothal to Theo?” I ask quietly, my voice trembling. I suddenly feel very sure that Nikolai knows. Why else would he—
“Theo was the man that she was unfaithful with. According to our father,” Nikolai adds, but I hardly hear that last part, because the blood is roaring in my ears. I feel dizzy, like I might be sick.
“That can’t be true,” I whisper again, but Nikolai is still talking.
“Plots to take him down have been in motion, shared with me, long before our father died. They’ve changed, altered, and none of them have been good enough. But he’s always wanted him deposed and dead, and now is our chance. I’ve seen—” he hesitates. “Proof. Diary entries that match our mother’s handwriting. Proof that they were together.” He looks at me, his expression grave. “I believe it, Marika.”
“Our mother—” I hesitate, trying to think of a kinder way to say it. “She wasn’t in the…best of health, mentally. She was never the most stable—” It’s an understatement. I remember days when our mother would be in her room, unable to come out because of the same migraines I claim to have now sometimes, but even I knew back then there was something else going on. She would have days where she could barely stir out of bed, and others where she went around the house like a dervish, planning, organizing, and moving furniture until the staff despaired of ever getting her to stop. She hadn’t been well, I know that. And I can’t imagine—
“Who are you going to believe? Her, or this man?” Nikolai looks at me sharply. “You need to know what you’re walking into, Marika.”
“Then why would you give me to him?” I exclaim, the words bursting out of me with all the emotion I’ve tried to hold back. “Why the fuck—what are you thinking, Nikolai? Why would you do this?”
Nikolai lets out a slow breath. “If Theo really loved our mother—or even just wanted her—then you are the perfect setup to get him to be vulnerable to you…tous, and what we’re trying to accomplish. You need to make himthinkyou want him, Marika. Make him believe that you’re falling for him despite yourself. But don’tactuallyfall for him. Be careful of riding that line.”
Easy thing to say, when you’re sending me into the lion’s den to ride him, I almost say, but I don’t. It’s an inappropriate thing to say to my brother—I almost do it just for that reason, to shock him. His sweet little sister, spitting out something like that.
“I can’t believe you’re doing this,” I whisper, my heart beating in my throat. “You’re becoming our father, Nikolai. This kind of plotting—using me like this without even telling me—”
It was the wrong thing to say. His face hardens in an instant. “How dare you,” he growls, his eyes narrowing at me. “Ourfatherwouldn’t have even given you the benefit of a choice. He wouldn’t have given you time to think about it. He would have marched you straight into matrimony with Theo and expected you to fuckingthankhim for it. He wouldn’t have told you his plans or anything about what he was doing. He wouldn’t haveworkedwith you; he would have ordered you!” Nikolai is breathing hard, his face tight with anger. “We’re doing this together, Marika. And when it’s over, you will have exactly what I’ve promised you. I won’t marry you off to some other mafia don or Bratvapakhanwho would be fine with marrying a widow as long as she came with money and status. You’ll have the deed to our family home, in your own name, your inheritance, and the freedom to do whatever and be with whoever you choose. So, howdareyou imply that I’m handling this the way our father would?”
By the time he’s finished, the car is nearly at my door. I look at him for a long moment, feeling suddenly tired in a way that I’m not sure I ever have before. What he’s telling me is outrageous. I’m having a hard time believing it’s true—but now I have to consider that it might be. I want out of this—but it’s too late now. “That’s fine if you want to think that,” I say quietly. “Butbe careful, Nikolai.” I mimic the way he’d said it to me, and it doesn’t get past him. “It’s a thin line you’re riding.”
I open the door, not bothering to wait for the driver to do it. I hear Nikolai’s voice behind me, as I slide out of the car.
“I’m doing this for the good of our family, Marika.”
I don’t answer him. I shut the door behind me, carefully, and I don’t look back as I walk up to the front door of the mansion.
Very soon, this won’t be my home any longer.
But hopefully, one day, it will be again.
Marika
The next morning, when the maid brings my breakfast up, there’s a thick, cream-colored envelope on the tray. It’s even sealed with wax, which seems a little over-the-top, and I look at the seal curiously. It’s a deep emerald green, two crossed arrows over a crown, and I know it must be from Theo before I even open it. I don’t know if I’m impressed by the ostentation or annoyed by it, but I crack open the seal, slipping the note out. It’s on equally thick card stock, written in a flowing hand, and I can’t help but roll my eyes a little. It seems like far too much effort to put into simply sending a note.
He could have called. Or asked Nikolai for my number and texted me.But there’s a certain old-world charm to it that I find a little touching, even as I roll my eyes while I start to read.
Marika,
I know it’s not strictly necessary, but I would like a little time to get to know my bride-to-be before our wedding. I have a dinner reservation tonight, and a box at the theatre, if you would be so kind as to accompany me. There will be a package sent to your home later today. Of course, you are under no obligation to accept, and if you don’t wish to come or have other plans, please feel free to keep the gifts. I will send a driver around this evening for you at six, if you accept.
Yours,
