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“So you’ve finally returned. Where have you been the past few days? I asked your cousin but he refused to tell me. Where he gets his fierce loyalty to you from, I have no idea,” my father states, rage filled eyes landing on my cousin beside me.
Rico doesn’t flinch.
I arch an eyebrow, “It seems to me that a lot of the men in this room could learn a thing or two about loyalty from Rico.”
My father cocks a head to the side, gaze assessing, “You sound proud of yourself, mia cara. Even after the mess you’ve made?”
“I have nothing to be ashamed about.”
“I see,” he says, eyes calculating, looking for a breach in my defenses.
It’s a game I’ve watched him play all my life. I’m a formidable opponent though. Perhaps the one he’ll fail to rile up.
My gaze roams the room for a second. “Everybody out,” I order. “Except my father, my uncle and Rico, everyone get out.”
They don’t make a move. The room is silent as they stare at me. Very slowly, my lips curve into a smile. It’s humorless, cold. I reach into my purse, pulling out a gun.
“Have you all suddenly gone deaf?” I shout. “Get the fuck out. The last man out of here gets a bullet in the skull. Fucking try me, I dare you!”
That gets then into action. They’ve watched me kill too many people not to take my threat seriously. The men shuffle out, one by one until all that’s left in the room is my immediate family. My father watches quietly, emotionlessly, my uncle beside him.
“Now that we’re alone. We can speak. You have a right to anger, Papa. But don’t display that anger in front of the capos. It’s unbecoming,” I state.
Instead of speaking, he lets out a scoff, looking away from me. My uncle speaks up instead.
“We also deserve an explanation, Katerina. What is this news we are hearing? You have a son?” he asks, and I can see in his eyes that he’s more confused than anything else.
So I suck in a deep breath before launching into the story, telling them everything. With each word, my heart grows lighter. So much that I start to wonder why I kept the truth hidden all this while.
By the time I’m done however, my father answers that question for me.
“I’m going to kill that son of a bitch, Sokolov,” he spits.
Alarm pulses through me. “No. You’re not.”
“He tormented you, Katerina. He held you captive. He deserves death. And I will be the one to bestow it upon him. Your uncle and I will go to Moscow.”
It’s sweet that his first thought is revenge on my behalf and not anger. But that is quite possibly the worst idea I’ve ever heard.
“You will do no such thing,” I state. “Nine years and I ensured at great cost that there would be no war and no bloodshed between our families. We will continue to ignore the Sokolov’s.”
His jaw grinds. I’m positive if he had still been Don when the news came out, he would have reveled in a fight, and consequences be damned.
No one says anything else for several seconds. My uncle stares, my father doesn’t look at me.
“Go on,” I say on a sigh. “You must have more to say, Papa. Ask me.”
His lifts his brown eyes, so much like mine to my face.
“Why did you not tell your family about your baby? You kept him hidden for nine years, Katerina. What led you to make that decision?” he finally asks.
“Because I was scared of what your reaction would be, Papa,” I answer honestly. “You ruled our family with an iron fist. And I was worried that fist would come to serve as a blow against me, against my son. So I hid him, I abandoned him, because I thought I was doing the right thing. And because I wanted him to be safe.”
Seconds tick by before he speaks again. “I would have never hurt you or my grandchild. And the fact that you would have thought shows that I failed as a parent.”
And just like that, my heart aches.
“You didn’t fail, Papa. I promise you didn’t. I made mistakes. But you did your best.”
