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MIRA
It’s snowing in Moscow when I land. I head outside, shivering despite my many layers. It takes forever for me to get to the front of the taxi line, and when I get into one, I discover my cab driver speaks no English. Thank heavens for the Translate app on my phone.
“Novodevich'ye kladbishche, pozhaluysta,” I say, mangling the pronunciation almost beyond recognition.Please take me to Novodevichy Cemetery.
The driver turns around in his seat and says something to me in a stream of rapid-fire Russian. I must look helpless, because he mutters impatiently and pulls his own phone out of his pocket, types something on the screen, and shows it to me.
The cemetery is closed today. Private function.
“Yes, I know.” I type those words into the Translate app, nodding insistently as I push the screen toward my cab driver. “Please go there anyway.”
He shrugs and says something that I’m guessing translates to ‘crazy tourist.’ He puts the car in gear, and we set off down snow-covered roads. It takes an hour to get there. The traffic is horrendous, made even slower by the winter weather. The ceremony would have gotten underway by now, and I’m going to be horrendously late.
Everyone who is a power in the underworld will be at Vadik Sidorov’s funeral. Andrei’s family, his friends, and his enemies. Ekaterina Nekrasova will probably be at his side, clutching his arm and crying beautiful tears. His mother, Anna, and his sister Natalya. Neither of them has cause to love my family. Butterflies flutter in my stomach, and I almost want to throw up from sheer nerves. What was I thinking, rushing over here so impulsively? What if Andrei doesn’t want to see me?
We finally pull up in front of the cemetery. A pair of gun-toting guards stand in front of the gates, barring the way in. It’s not for show; the guns are Kalashnikov assault rifles, and the guards look like they know how to use them.
I pay my fare and step out of the cab, and my driver speeds off immediately. One of the guards blocks my way. “I’m sorry,” he says in unaccented English. “The cemetery is not open to tourists today. There is a private function.”
He’s making it obvious I don’t belong here. Normally, I wouldn’t let him intimidate me, but I’m pretty sure he’s right. “I’m not a tourist. I’m a friend of Andrei Sidorov.”
The two guards exchange skeptical glances. “Do you have an invitation?”
Funerals have invitations? I guess that makes sense. How else are you going to keep the riffraff out? “No,” I admit. “But if you find Andrei, I’m sure he’ll confirm?—”
A dark-haired woman walks by just then. She hears my words and looks up, and I recognize her from pictures. Natalya Sidorov, the second-in-command of the family, Andrei’s younger sister.
“Mirabella?” Her eyes are red, but when she looks at me, her face is wiped clean of expression. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m sorry for your loss.” I take a deep breath. “I wanted to see Andrei.”
She nods tightly. “I’ll take you to him.” She makes a hand gesture, and the guards fall away. “He is with my father. Come.”
She leads me to a small grove surrounded on three sides by a hedge. Andrei is there, and he’s alone. He looks up and sees me, and for an instant, an expression of shock fills his face. “Mira? What are you doing here?”
“Do not hurt him,” Natalya says under her breath. “Not today.”
Her words barely register. I take a step forward, and his gaze falls to my hand, to my bare ring finger. “You’re not engaged?”
“No. Uncle Renzo has the unenviable task of telling the Palermo family the engagement is off. Then again, he was so relieved he didn’t have to head up the family anymore that he didn’t even complain.” He doesn’t move, and so I take another step closer. “I’m sorry about your father.”
His eyes turn sad. “Thank you. We knew it was going to happen, and I thought I was prepared, but. . .” His voice trails off. “He had colon cancer.”
“Antonio told me.”
He nods. “He’s just been gone a day, and I miss him already.” He takes a deep breath and shoves his hands into the pockets of his overcoat. “Why did you come, Mira?”
This isn’t the welcome I hoped for. “I didn’t want you to be alone.” I feel like I’m walking on a thin ledge with deep caverns on either side. “I don’t speak the language. I neither have territory to offer, nor money. I bring nothing to the table. I don’t belong here, but if you will have me?—”
He puts out his hand to stop me. “You didn’t get my package?”
“Your package?” I look at him in confusion and then I remember the box that Elisa slipped in my bag. I pull it out. “This one? You sent me an engagement present?”
“Not exactly.” He shakes his head in wry amusement. “So much for my grand gesture. Open it.”
I unwrap the box warily. There’s a ring inside. But not just any ring. Nestled in the velvet is the thick platinum signet ring of the Sidorovs.
“I don’t understand,” I say blankly.
