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“I’m already in your family’s good graces.”
“Not for long. I could change that tonight.”
Popov gulped down another glass of champagne, and he looked like it burned his fucking throat.
“And what do you want, young Nucci?”
Show time.
“Your wife.”
A crushing, heavy silence took over the room and from where I was standing, I couldn’t tell if Popov was breathing or not. The only thing that I was sure of was that he was slowly, but surely, turning red.
“You want to buy my wife? For a night?”
Nice try, old man. Nice fucking try.
“I want her for good. Let her go, give her to me with a set of divorce papers, and we can go and be civil about all this.”
“I had no idea you and Ludmila were so…acquainted. I thought it was my daughter you were fucking. Seems I was wrong, young Nucci. I let you into my house and you were banging my wife. Tell me, did you have them both at the same time?”
He was persistent in acting like a pig to the last moment.
“Katja and I share a friendship, that’s all. We have a platonic relationship. I would apologize to you for breaking up your marriage, Popov, but we both know you don’t care about your vows, so do yourself a favor. Let her go and let’s move past this.”
Popov rubbed his chin and looked away. He was a thorn, caught between a rock and a hard place. I humiliated him by confessing my affair with Ludmila to his face and he had to choose if he wanted to go about this quietly, or try and fight me and let everyone know I took him for a fool. To be honest, the only choice he had was to bend to my will because any other alternative would get him a bullet and a grave at the bottom of a lake.
After a solid five minutes, he finally looked back to me, with a sleezy smile, the same kind he had that first day I met him.
“Sure, you can have her. I’m happy to pack her things and kick her out right away. I was bored anyways. If you want what’s left, then she’s all yours.”
My fists clenched, and I could feel a vein on the side of my neck popping out. It was a true test of patience to not kill this fucking rat and get this over with. I reminded myself that I was doing this for Ludmila because her conscience would eat at her if I sent the fucker to God just to set her free. I wanted the best life for her, and I’d bite on my tongue to make sure I’d provide it.
“So, we have a deal?”
“We have a deal young Nucci. I’ll be expecting my money.” He walked to the door and looked over his shoulder. “And my praise.”
“I’ll be waiting for Ludmila.”
This was over. It was finally over. She was mine and mine alone, and I’d be sleeping in peace at night, with my doll by my side. I had to buy her some damn flowers.
Chapter 22
Something was wrong. I could feel it in the air, I could feel it on my skin, and I could feel it in my gut. I wasn’t sure what it was, but I knew something just wasn’t right. Everything around me was too quiet and silence was never a good sign. What do the Americans say – the calm before the storm? I didn’t know why but I was feeling like the lightning was about to strike me. I’d been feeling like this ever since the last time I saw Enzo. There was something in his eyes, something murderous, dangerous, and bold, that made me fear he might do something that would cost me greatly.
Enzo knew all my secrets now. I had to trust he wouldn’t act like a man, without thinking, just because he wanted me. His actions could ruin my family. Maybe my parents were worthy of such pain, but my brothers and sister? They were kids. My life shouldn’t be more important than theirs. If I had to stay in hell next to Alexei so they could live, it was something worth doing.
Because I couldn’t stay still, I started walking around the house to look for something to keep my mind occupied. I rarely roamed around because I hated this place. It was cold and sterile, like a hospital or a prison. Katja wasn’t home and I thought about calling her to see if she was with Enzo. I had this nagging feeling in my gut that was telling me to check on him and see if everything was all right. In the end, I decided against it and went to the kitchen to fix myself a tea. Maybe some chamomile would calm my nerves.
The water was boiling when the front door opened with force and Alexei came into the house and shouted my name.
“Where the hell are you, Ludmila?”
My heart refused to beat anymore, and I felt paralyzed by cold and pungent fear. Alexei was mad again and he was looking for me. I knew what happened when he was in this mood. I still had bruises from the last time he got mad.
“Ludmila!” He yelled again.
“Y…yes. I’m in here.”
