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She chuckles, wrapping me in a tight hug. "I can’t believe it! The last I heard, you'd moved to New York and found your brothers. The Kozlovs, is that right?”
“It’s true,” I confirm. “I’m back in Russia for a … visit.” If you consider abduction and forcible confinement a visit. “And what about you? What have you been up to?” I ask, eager to change the subject.
“Not much has changed since we were schoolmates. I’ve been living the life in Moscow—the parties, the society events, the usual. Papa allowed me to go to university, but now that I’ve graduated…” She takes a solemn breath and lifts her left hand with a less than thrilled expression.
My gaze is drawn to a flashy diamond ring on her third finger. “You’re engaged?”
I’m not surprised. She's always been the dreamy, romantic type. Unlike me—I’m happy to never get married. I prefer the freedom to work and run the family business. Plus, in most bratva families, marriage means losing all freedom.
“You remember Anatoly Petrovich, from the grade above us?” she asks without a trace of enthusiasm.
I wince. “He’s not exactly who I pictured you with.”
Liza is beautiful, chic, and sweet down to her marrow, and Anatoly is the exact opposite. My memory of him is of a self-important, pompous ass, who used his family name and connections to get good grades and only targeted the drunkest girl at any given party.
She grimaces. “Trust me, he's not who I pictured myself with. He's still the samemudakhe was at school." My parents are pushing this 'advantageous alliance' with the Petroviches,” Lizamimics, using air quotes. “I think you can imagine our situation. Nothing has changed.”
Liza's father, Boris Ivanov, has a hearty appetite for drinking and gambling. Her mother used to regularly be at the headmaster's office, pleading for more time to settle Liza's tuition fees. It was well-known among the students that, despite the Ivanovs' supposed wealth, they frequently fell behind on payments due to Boris's vices.
Anatoly might be a creep, but he’s a rich creep from a shipping magnate family. With the Ivanovs’ underworld connections, it's a match made in mafia heaven.
I sigh and take her hand in mine. “I’m sorry. When is the wedding?”
“Sometime next year. But to be honest, never is my preference.”
We look over to see Anatoly, slightly paunchy with thinning blond hair, attempting to engage a waitress in a conversation that seems too friendly. Watching him, I feel a fresh wave of sympathy for my old friend.
“Want me to help you do a runner?” I offer. “I can commandeer one of the helicopters on the back property and get us the hell out of here.”
Liza pauses in thought, sipping her champagne. “If anyone is capable of stealing a helicopter from Maxim Belov, it’s you.”
An involuntary shudder passes through me. His name alone is distasteful.
She smiles nostalgically. “Do you remember when we… Well, actually,youstole the headmistress's car to get to that party in St. Petersburg. The look on Sister Olga's face the next morning. Shit. I think she whipped us for that one.”
“I think she did. If it hadn’t been for my aunt pleading our case to the headmistress, we definitely would’ve been expelled.” The memory brings a bittersweet smile to my face. While otherparents would have been outraged, Aunt Masha had a rebellious streak—much like me—and understood the thrill of bending the rules. "She always said life was too short to live by the rules set by nuns.”
Liza studies me, her expression growing serious. “I know how much you loved her and struggled after she … died. I wish I could have been there for you more than I was.”
I shake my head, swallowing the pain that threatens to drown me every time I think of her. Aunt Masha raised me. Until I found my brothers, she'd been the only person who ever loved me. The only person I ever loved. The person whose absence in my life still leaves a hole as big as a continent in my heart.
Liza is one of the few people that know my aunt was murdered … and how it was all my fault.
“I’m the one who should be apologizing to you for not reaching out. When I settled in New York, I needed to move forward with my life. Thinking about Russia and the people I left behind” — I squeeze her hand — “was too hard.”
“Of course, I understand.” She smiles sadly. “What brings you here now?”
I clear my throat. “I’m close friends with Alyona Nikitin, Maxim Belov’s daughter. I’m here to support her during this time of ... transition.”Forcibletransition. But I leave that out as it doesn't fit the narrative Maxim is spinning.
She shakes her head. "It must have been a real shock to find out her biological father is one of Russia's most powerful men!"
"You have no idea," I say, swallowing the knot in my throat when I think of how trapped Aly is in a world she never chose.
"I don't, but I'm dying to know." Liza raises her eyebrow, clearly intrigued.
I can't help but smile—she's always been one for gossip, but this story is not mine to share. I'm about to change the subjectwhen she curses softly, her attention shifting to something behind me.
“Jesus, that man. I need to get him out of here.” There’s panic in her eyes.
