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"Not now." I take his hand. "It's not the time."
Lilyana bustles through the front door, Arman behind her. "Vladi!" she says, weaving through the floral forest toward us. "We walked six blocks, and I got my own coffee."
"Yeah, but you didn't get me one, did you?" Arman says. "I was there, protecting you, and what thanks do I get?"
Lili giggles. "Sorry." She holds her cup out to him. "You want the rest of this?"
"Tsvetok, that's not coffee. It's basically a milkshake."
Lili shrugs. "Whatever." A tiny line appears between her eyebrows when she sees her big brother's expression. "Come on, Vladi." She slips her arm into his. "Everyone is leaving for the church. We can't be the last to arrive. And for once, I'm not afraid. Papa's gone, and I have you."
Vlad smiles at her. "Always." He reaches for me, taking my hand. "Let's get this over with."
35
Vlad
It's hard to keep the correct expression on my face. David walks around the restaurant, shaking hands and accepting condolences while I sit alone, nursing a drink and looking like the dutiful bereaved son.
I told Morgana I was not prepared to let her go far from my side because I believed she may be in danger. That's not the only reason, though. While she needs me, she won't leave, and I don't have to face the harsh reality that snaps at my heels.
Morgana doesn'thaveto stay with me. She already has ten million dollars in her private account and has kept her side of the bargain. Papa's will was read last week, and I made the financial and business transfers shortly after. It's all in my name, and I can do anything. I no longer need to be married.
That's a fucking lie. But I don't need justanywife. I needmywife. The woman who went way past her brief and soothed my soul when my demons came out to play.
I didn't know Papa's death would change me. Now that he's gone, I thought I'd be free and unburdened, but I'm troubled. My feelings for Morgana are deepening, and I'm drifting further from the ideal image of a pakhan that my father instilled in me.
"Women are leeches," he would say. "They want your money, but it's more than that—they'd reach into your bones and scoop out the marrow if they could. They are parasites, and it's your job to get what you need from them without letting them latch onto you."
He was full of shit. But it's hard to turn away from a future I recognize and embrace the unknown.
Mama wasn't a parasite. Neither is Morgana. It's Papa who bled everyone around him dry.
As he was lowered into the earth, I felt nothing but contempt. I threw a handful of soil into the grave and muttered a half-assed prayer, but I wouldn't have the audacity to ask God for favors, least of all on my father's behalf.
Most mourners were at the wedding, creating a bizarre déjà vu. Unlike the reception, many couples have their children with them. I haven't seen kids playing since the twins were tiny, and the sight pulls at my heart. I glimpse Morgana across the room, talking to Josie, and my anxiety eases. As long as I know where she is, I'm fine. I'm not worried about anything happening at Papa's wake—it's unforgivably rude to cause a ruckus at a funeral.
I'm contemplating getting a top-up when a man sits down opposite me.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Kislev."
"Do I know you,tovarishch?"
I take the man's extended hand. He's younger than me, with a wiry strength that's easy to underestimate. His smile is brief and tight.
"We haven't met," he says, "but we have a shared problem."
I don't fucking like this guy. He's too unctuous, too self-assured. He walked into my father's funeral dinner to talk business with me?
"So get on with it." I finish my drink. "I don't have all day."
"I am the one you've been looking for." He leans forward, raising his eyebrows. "You know. The one who's been asking questions about the pimp you killed."
"You're Hektor's boss? Wait, no. You're running errands for someone else. Your boss wouldn't come here."
The man tries to smile again, but I see his irritation. He doesn't enjoy being a nobody. I know an overreaching underling when I see one.
"I represent a powerful individual." The man sits back in his chair. "He's a pakhan in Chicago. Hektor would have told you that. What did he do to make you kill him rather than discuss it?"
