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“No,” she replies. “I live out on Long Island.”
The mere mention of Long Island has my mind thinking of Holtsville. Oh, I would give anything to be back in my hot-pink bedroom. Far away from all of this madness. Where Dad is just Dad, and not some alleged traitor of the Bratva.
“But I have a small apartment in the city,” Larissa continues. “So I can be close to my husband and Kolya.”
A small apartment? Define small. I quickly take a sip of the orange juice set in front of me. Larissa doesn’t have a clue what her brother is doing to me. I can’t tell her, or she’ll tell him what I said.
I like her, but she isn’t my way out of here.
“Eden,” Larissa’s voice breaks me out of my reverie. “I hope you know how much you mean to both of us. I hope you will bring light into Kolya’s life. He’s been lost for so long now.”
“Thank you, Lara,” my voice shakes with emotion. “What do you mean lost?”
“Our mother’s death,” she replies sadly. “He blames himself for that. More than he blames himself for our brother’s.”
It’s only then that I notice that there are no family pictures on display here. No cheesy photo in a drugstore frame or oil portrait over the amazing fireplace. I look around again, and maybe Larissa can guess what I was thinking. After all, her brother is terrifyingly good at guessing my thoughts.
As we wrap up breakfast, I think about my family, and I’m left starved for affection when she tells me that she must go. I stand there a little dazed. And I want to reach out my hand and beg her not to leave me here in this beautiful, emotionless cage.
But I don’t. I remember the police officer who handed me back to Nikolai. I can’t trust anyone, not even one as warm as Larissa.
So, I swallow hard and nod. “Promise me you’ll visit again soon, Lara.”
“Of course, Eden,” she assures me, her eyes full of affection. “There is so much you still have to learn about this world—both the good and the bad,” she says cheerfully. “And you’ll need someone who isn’t my brother to walk you through it. Take care of yourself, Eden,” she whispers, squeezing me tightly once more. “And remember, you’re not alone. You have me. Anything you want or need, I can help you.”
Sunglasses and a large hat on, Larissa waves as she steps into the elevator. I watch her slip the key into her purse and wonder what she would do if I told her the truth.
And when she learns the truth, will she still tell me that I’m not alone?
21
NIKOLAI
The gallery openingis filled with invited guests in formal evening attire. Venomous words are exchanged behind masks of pleasantries, and all of it is buoyed by the copious amounts of champagne in their glasses. Gossip and rumor take flight in light whispers and raucous laughter, all while hands hide lips dripping with scandalous secrets. Waitstaff weaves through the crowd, carrying delicacies on silver platters, offering them to anyone who catches their eye
… and remembering any worthwhile rumor to be passed back to me later.
I hold a crystal flute up to my lips and take a sip, the bubbles tingling on my tongue. My chest swells with pride as I accept one congratulation after another on my newest gallery—the Vedere.
Tonight, the room subtly sparkles and glimmers with muted golden lamps illuminating the art pieces around the space. As I move through the space, I engage in small talk here and there, commenting on the artwork with my guests.
These people don’t know me as a crime boss. All they see is a man of wealth and a collector of taste. In other words, one of them.
“Your appointment is arriving, Nikolai Gennadyevich.” Anton motions toward the main door as an elderly gentleman exits a town car.
“Thank you, Anton. No trouble tonight?”
He shakes his head. “The men are patrolling the gallery, but there’s nothing suspicious. Nothing out of place, pakhan.”
“Not here, Anton.” I lower my voice. “Remember where we are.”
Anton’s eyes widen at his mistake. “Apologies, Nikolai Gennadyevich.” His brown eyes are filled with an eagerness that comes from wanting to please the Bratva.
Anton and I have known each other since he joined the Bratva. He was there when I received my stars, and I was there when he received his. And what he lacks in discretion among the civilians, he more than makes up for it in loyalty and strength.
I smile. “An understandable mistake, Anton.”
He nods, face solemn, and hurries away toward the main door to greet my business appointment.
