13. Vitaly
13
VITALY
M ila’s brother smells like garlic. Every time his mouth opens, only inches from my nose, the stench puffs out with his excited words, slicing past neglected teeth.
He doesn’t look like he could be her brother. Well, I suppose in some ways he does. His hair is the soft brown I remember hers being, but it’s difficult to see much else past the garlic smell.
“Babygirl.” Leo, the brother, snaps his fingers at the bartender who’s already staring at him. She looks less than thrilled by the nickname. Or maybe it’s the snapping. “Get our boy Vitaly here a shot of our finest.” He squeezes my shoulders, making me tense. I fight the instinct to react, remind myself it isn’t threatening. That nonthreatening touch exists .
“Thanks.” I clear my throat and move his hands off my shoulders. When the shot comes, I give a polite lift of it before knocking it back.
“That’s our boy,” Leo laughs and claps my back as if he has any idea who I am.
What is he doing?
“Another one, babygirl, let’s go.” He snaps his fingers in rapid succession, and even I have to glare this time. We catch the attention of a woman sitting a couple of stools away, straight, cinnamon hair swaying as she turns her head.
Leo eyes the woman, his lips curved in a smile that makes me think they know each other, or maybe he just thinks she’s beautiful. Which makes his next move questionable.
“Gotta go to the pisser.” He claps my shoulder again , my jaw clenching. I wonder if I would’ve behaved differently had he not been Mila’s brother. The answer occurs automatically.
Of course.
Leo walks off toward the bathroom, and I let out a breath as the bartender—a woman I can only think to describe as curvaceous— slams the shot glass in front of me. I nod my head in thanks, but she only stares with contempt before addressing the woman next to me.
“Doing okay, Olive?”
“Mm-hm.”
The bartender turns back to me, looks me up and down, then slinks off to the other side of the bar, a classic butterfly tattoo visible beneath the hem of her black shirt that must be intentionally too small. It works for her. Even her meanness works for her.
I stare at the shot glass in front of me, wondering how long this is going to take.
“So,” the woman two stools away begins in a low, mousy voice. Almost scared. Definitely nervous. “You’re Vitaly?”
I turn to take in her face, mostly hidden by hair, and something about it feels familiar. I don’t know her, but I think I’ve seen her before.
Is she one of the women from the mansion?
Does she know that I got the other girl killed?
Would she be stupid enough to be talking to me right now if she did?
I look over the woman, dressed in faded jeans and a dull sweater. She doesn’t look like a whore. She doesn’t look Russian either.
Maybe she’s just an alcoholic. Maybe she hears things, sitting at this bar at eleven thirty in the morning, nursing what looks like an Appletini.
It doesn’t seem to bother her when I don’t answer. She already had her mind made up about who I am. Sitting up straighter, she swallows and holds out her hand. “I’m, um… I’m Olive.”
I take her hand and shake, allowing my brows to subtly knit when she pulls away like I snatched her hand instead of her offering it.
She smiles and grips the bottom of her stool as she turns to fully face me. “Aren’t you going to drink that?” She nods to the shot on the bar top.
I glance at the shot glass and open my mouth. “Uhh, no. I’m not. Here…” I slide it over to her, but she holds up her hands and shakes her head.
“Oh no. No thank you. I don’t drink.”
I eye the martini glass in front of her.
“It’s a mocktail,” she explains with a nervous chuckle. “To be honest, I barely even drink these. It just feels weird waiting without something in front of me.”
“What are you waiting for?” I look around me. Leo is out of the bathroom and sitting at a booth with Mila’s old man and a few others. Mila sits uneasily at her brother’s side, watching me with her face pinched. She looks away.
Why are we not leaving?
“My doctor’s appointment,” Olive says, pulling my eyes back to her. “My friend was supposed to meet me here but got held up, so I’m just waiting until I need to leave for it. But, um, actually, I’m happy I was here to meet you.” Teeth sinking into her bottom lip, she looks around before moving over to the stool next to me. She carefully slides her drink in front of her then wipes her palms on her lap and stares ahead instead of looking at me.
“I’ve heard so much about you,” she says, playing with her hands.
She has?
I stare at her. She looks like an innocent doe, but there’s a touch of weirdness to her that unsettles me. Like I shouldn’t move my eyes away.
“Oh, really?” I ask.
She clears her throat and turns to me with a tiny nod. “I’ll be honest, most of it didn’t frame you in a good light. But … um…” Her mouth stays open like she wants to tell me something, but eventually, she shakes her head and looks away. “I shouldn’t be saying this.”
“It’s all right,” I say to try to get her to go on but then remember Felicity. If she thinks she shouldn’t tell me something, maybe she shouldn’t. I don’t even know who she is.
“You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to.” I lean against the bar and study her again. “Are you one of Nikita’s girls?” I ask, already knowing she isn’t. “How have you heard about me?”
She frowns at me. “Oh, you don’t remember.”
I study her features, sensing the familiarity more than ever, but I still can’t place it.
She quickly shakes her head, as if shaking away a thought. “Listen, Vitaly. I really shouldn’t be saying this, but I think I have to.” She sucks in a breath, and I wonder if this time she’ll really get it out. “I know you’ve done some bad things and hurt a lot of people, but to me, you coming back says a lot. Your uncle is a psychopath . He terrorizes everyone he comes into contact with and has killed so many innocent people, and then he forces himself on everyone, making the dinners at his house unbearable, like, he just…” She combs hair over her eye that was already plenty in her face. It’s kind of weird. “He enjoys torturing people. And I guess, what I really want to say is, if you’ve come here for the reasons that everyone thinks… I hope the best man wins. Even if it means my husband and I suffer for it.”
Even if it means my husband and I suffer for it.
Her husband. I must know her husband.
At the same time my eyes draw to the ring on her finger, the memory I’ve itched to recall slides into my mind. I see this woman, Olive, in her wedding dress. It was only days ago.
Alik.
She’s Alik’s wife.
The bell for the door chimes, but I don’t turn that way. My eyes are on Olive’s when she puts her hand over mine and leans toward me like she’s going to tell me a secret. Another one.
Now I understand why she moved next to me. Why she didn’t want the others to hear.
She’s the underboss’s wife, expressing her disdain for the Pakhan. That’s a death sentence for her. If Alik came to her defense, it’d be a death sentence for him as well.
“Alik is blinded by anger,” she continues, her beady eyes pleading, like already I’ve taken over the Bratva in some imagined scheme running through the delusional minds of Nikita’s people. “Please don’t hold that against him.”
Her eyes move behind me then go wide as saucers as she jerks upright, her hands lifting.
Before I get the chance to look, a pair of hands spins me around on the stool, and a fist connects with my eye.
“Alik, stop!” Olive exclaims, revealing my assailant’s identity even if I didn’t have another eye to see my very angry-looking ex best friend standing over me with his fist reared back. He swings again, landing a blow to my jaw that smashes my teeth together. I don’t block the next punch either.
It hurts, of course. I’m not immune to pain. I’m not a machine.
But I’ve delivered so much pain in my life and suffered so much guilt that I really don’t mind taking what’s deserved. Part of me likes it. Like a piece of my wrongdoings are absolved with every burst cell.
“Stop!” Olive yells again, grabbing onto her husband’s arm to prevent him from swinging. “ Please .”
For a moment, I think Alik is going to shove Olive away, but he closes his eyes as his body tenses so much a low rumble comes from him.
He hovers his fist in the air, even after his wife lets go, whispering pleas as she leans against him.
“Go,” he commands, turning to her.
Swallowing, she looks between us then backs up a few slow steps before scurrying from the bar.
Alik lowers his fist and stares at me with more hatred than I ever knew possible from a human being. It seeps through his pores. It roars like an inferno in the red eye I gifted him. It drips from his teeth.
“Stay away from my wife,” he says, his voice so low, I think he’s doing everything he can to contain himself.
He wants to kill me. He desperately wants to kill me.
But he turns, his fists shaking, and walks from the bar.
For a moment, I fight the urge to go after him, holding the words inside as I have for years. But it’s only a moment.
My heart thumps in my ears as I swipe blood from my lip and hold it out in front of me, then I push off the stool and follow Alik outside.
“Vitaly, no!” Mila calls after me, running to catch up. Sunlight is nearly blinding stepping out of the dimly lit bar, so I use a hand to shade my eyes and find Alik and Olive walking briskly down the sidewalk toward his parked car.
“Let it go,” Mila growls, taking my arm when I step after them.
I rip out of her hold and lengthen my strides. “Alik!”
Olive looks back worried, but she goes to the car at Alik’s prompting. He turns back to me, his expression stern, his shoulders squared. He looks ready for a fight.
As I approach, I make a point to relax my hands and let them hang limp at my sides.
“I deserved that. I did. But I hope you got it out of your system because it’s the last time you’ll ever touch me and get away with it.”
His eyes widen incredulously as he laughs. “Oh, is that so, Prince Vitaly ?” He pulls a gun from his waistband and points it between my eyes. “Do you have any idea who you’re fucking talking to? I’m the underboss. You’re a soldier . What’s stopping me from killing you right now, just for threatening me?”
I lift my shoulders, my face hard. “I don’t know, Alik. What’s stopping you?”
The self-satisfied power in his expression melts into unmistakable tension. After several seconds of staring at me with that fiery hatred, he lowers the gun and turns, so tense he looks pained as he walks.
“What do you want me to do?” I yell, throwing my arms up at my sides. “Apologize? I’m sorry . Okay? Feel better?”
He ignores me and continues on to his car.
“Alik!”
“Just let him go,” Mila says from behind me, her voice moving closer. When she puts a hand on my arm, I twist away.
Heat singeing my ears, I turn to meet her deceptively empathetic eyes only a moment before storming toward the SUV.
“Vitaly,” she calls, hurrying behind me. “Maybe if you give him time?—”
When I spin, grinding to a halt, she bounces into me and looks at me with confusion pursing her red lips. Confusion .
I thought I knew how to read her. I really did. Obviously, she’s a better actress than I gave her credit for.
“Are you just going to stand there and pretend you didn’t set me up back there?” I ask, my voice calm despite the anger I feel. It shouldn’t be directed at Mila, but it is. I know she hates me, that her whole family hates me. I shouldn’t be surprised by her doing something like this.
But I am.
Guilt settles into her features and sags her shoulders.
I nod. “That’s what I thought.” I turn back toward the SUV.
“I had no idea Olive would be at the bar or that Alik would pick her up,” Mila says, following close behind me. I ignore her.
“Vitaly, please. I wasn’t a part of it.”
My jaw tics at the desperation in her tone, which only makes me angrier. More irrational betrayal eats away at the false idea I had of this woman.
It’s my fault. It really is.
Still, my anger grows.
“You knew exactly who she was when your brother led me to a stool right next to hers. You knew exactly what they were doing.”
I make it to the SUV and climb into the driver’s seat. She slaps her hand on the frame when I go to shut it.
“So what?” she barks, her eyes wild, her chest heaving. “I don’t owe you a damn thing, and neither does anyone else. You can’t just destroy people and expect no retaliation. That’s remarkably naive, even for you.”
I let out a cruel laugh and shake my head.
“What?” She huffs. “What’s funny?”
I lean close enough to her that I can smell her perfume, but the scent doesn’t make me sway like it might another time. It doesn’t even penetrate the bitterness I feel.
“ Alik retaliated. He hit me like a man, and like a man, I let him. This once . You used an unsuspecting, meek woman to do your bidding for you while you sat back and watched like a coward… But that’s not the funny part.” I shake my head. “The funny part is you think a snake like you could ever be worth destroying.” I nod to the bar. “Your family never had any respect to defile. So maybe it’s me who doesn’t owe you a damn thing?”
Her face falls, and she steps back like I’ve just kicked her in the stomach. She looks stunned by my words, as if she’d never considered the possibility.
I don’t wait to see if she has a response. I slam the door and start up the SUV, pulling away and leaving Mila behind to catch a ride with one of her dirtbag relatives.
I think about missing my exit. Driving until I don’t recognize the scenery. Leaving this place for good.
But of course, I don’t. Because regardless of my judgment of Mila or her family, I was never here because of it. I was here because of my father’s judgment of them. Of her . I questioned him then. I’m still questioning him.
But he isn’t here for me to challenge. And that’s my doing.
With a low growl, I take the exit for the mansion, my knuckles white as I grip the steering wheel.