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Roman
Ruby’s words rang in his ears as Max pulled into the cemetery behind several other black cars and SUVs. Two hearses were at the front of the procession, but there was no limo behind them, no family to accompany Vladimir and Valeriya to their final resting place.
“She would have hated this,” he said.
Max responded from behind his sunglasses, his expression unreadable. “Agreed.”
Roman had wanted to tell someone that Valeriya wouldn’t want to be buried next to her father, that she would want something else, something grand. That she would want, in this final thing, not to be in her father’s shadow.
But there was no one to tell. Vladimir and Valeriya had no surviving relatives, none close enough to attend the funeral in New York anyway. The church service followed by a brief graveside service had been arranged according to Vladimir’s will and paid for with money set aside for that purpose.
Roman had no idea what would happen to the rest of the Orlov money now that Vladimir’s heir was also dead. Probably it would revert to the state — the Russian state that is, since Vladimir was still a holder of citizenship there — although Roman had no doubt there were offshore accounts too.
They parked next to a curb behind the procession and Roman watched the black SUV carrying his father and Konstantin.
“I still think this is a bad idea,” Max said.
“I don’t disagree,” Roman said. “But I stand by my decision.”
Honor dictated their presence. He would not leave Valeriya to be laid to rest alone, with only Roman’s father — the one who had probably ordered Valeriya’s murder — and the rest of the bratva to bear witness. He and Valeriya hadn’t been friends, not exactly, but the situation they’d found themselves in had birthed a kind of camaraderie.
Seeing the other mourners, Roman was glad of his decision. The crowd filing toward the double grave site was familiar — Roman’s father and Kon, of course, but also made men from all the criminal organizations in the area, all of them trying to get the lay of the land, sniffing around for a hint of the Orlov money.
Roman didn’t blame them. If he hadn’t known the money was out of reach, he’d be curious too.
“It looks like a war zone out there,” Max murmured, his gaze pointed at the black-clad figures streaming up a small hill as the funeral home attendant unloaded the caskets.
Anyone else might not have seen it. To the untrained eye, it looked like any other funeral — people dressed in black, heads respectfully bowed.
What might escape notice was that everyone was armed to the hilt, the Mob bosses accompanied by body men who watched the procession nervously, the Feds parked alongside the curb in hulking black SUVs, probably with zoom lenses aimed their way.
Occasions like this were rare, a chance to get the current lay of the land, add the new players to the roster of organized criminals they were always trying to take down.
He watched his father step carefully out of the SUV, aided by Kon, then amble behind the other mourners. Igor was getting old, his stride slower, a hitch in his gait that might have spoken to injury.
Don’t die yet, old man. Not until I’m done with you.
Roman opened the door. “Let’s go.”
Not coming hadn’t been an option, but he wasn’t stupid. Roman would stay behind his father, where he could watch him.
They started up the hill behind the procession.
36
Ruby
She spent the first hour pacing the loft — sitting in the bedroom Roman had made for Olivia, reading the books on the shelves and imagining showing them to her daughter, even walking into the playroom, which Roman had left unlocked (in case Ruby decided she wanted to use it with him?).
Finally, she returned to Roman’s bed, breathed in the scent on his pillow, replayed every moment of their time together the night before.
He wasn’t tender in bed. He was consuming and demanding, like a wildfire beating a path through a forest in summer.
But last night had been different. Something had shifted between them. She wasn’t dumb enough to think they were headed for happily ever after — his business would never be conducive to Olivia’s well-being — but Ruby cared about him, maybe even loved him, although she was glad he hadn’t pressured her into saying it back when he’d said it to her.
I love you, Ruby.
Her cheeks flushed just thinking about it, which wasn’t exactly good news when she had no idea what the future held for them and their relationship.
