32. Carmie
Chapter 32
Carmie
A lot of people show up for Oleg’s funeral.
I’m surprised, honestly. I always thought he was a bitter, nasty old asshole, but apparently he was well liked in his community. Lev shakes hands, accepts condolences, and listens to stories about his father. Most people think Oleg died of a heart attack at his desk. Always working too hard, everyone says.
A few people know the truth.
There are armed men scattered throughout the church. It’s subtle, but they’re watching Lev the whole time. Not in a menacing way though.
They’re taking his orders.
“He should be here,” Lev says, pulling me close to his side. The viewing is winding down. Everyone’s getting ready to head out to the cemetery.
“There’s still time.”
“There are barely any Zeitsev people here either.” Lev’s face is grim.
“But I don’t understand. All these people?” I gesture at the crowd. “It’s kind of amazing, actually. If I get even half this many at my funeral, consider me lucky.”
“They’re business associates. Jewelry people. There aren’t any—” He lowers his voice, his lips tickling my jaw. “There isn’t anyone from the Bratva here.”
I frown slightly. That’s probably not a good thing then. Oleg was an important member of the Zeitsev organization, and Lev expected to slot into his father’s place.
It’s a nice day. The crowd around the grave is small. Only Oleg’s closest friends and family show up, and it’s an intimate thing. Alex and Natalya are there, and I stand with them and Lev while the priest performs the ceremony.
Oleg’s casket is lowered into the ground, and nobody cries.
“Did you count how many?” Lev asks Alex once everyone begins to disperse. Natalya’s hanging on my arm, looking more thoughtful than sad. I want to ask how she’s feeling about her father’s death, but she doesn’t seem very bothered by it.
“Two, and neither of them were full members.” Alex shakes his head. “He didn’t show up.”
“That's not good.” Lev glances over at the line of cars. Mourners are climbing in and heading home. Our small group pauses under a tall oak tree and the shade feels nice. My feet ache from wearing heels, and all I want to do is take a nap.
“It’s only a funeral,” Natalya says. “So what if Valentin didn’t show up?”
“Dad was a part of his Bratva. Valentin not coming today sends a pretty clear message.”
“Which is what?”
“He doesn’t approve of what I did.”
She frowns and looks at Alex. “What do you think?”
“He’s right. At the very least, even if he was too busy to come today for some crazy reason, he should have sent people. Or there should be other people from the Bratva here. Your father wasn’t the most well-loved guy in the world, but they understand family and honor. They should’ve been here.”
A tense silence follows. I lean into Lev and touch his arm. He doesn’t pull away, and instead wraps me closer, hugging me into his side. It’s strange, this thoughtless affection, like it’s as natural as anything to touch me like this.
When barely a couple of weeks ago we were sleeping in separate rooms.
Now our relationship is different. He takes me out to dinner and tells me about his day. The masked man still visits—but not every night. Instead, most of the time, it’s just me and Lev getting to know each other.
And having sex. A lot of sex.
Most getting to know each other.
“Half of Fed’s clients went elsewhere too,” Alex says after a little while. “And the dealers are barely working with us anymore.”
“Bunch of fucking scum.” Lev scowls at the last of the lingering mourners. “Goddamn vultures.”
“They had relationships with Dad,” Natalya points out. “Not with you.”
“I was winning them over.”
“And the ones you convinced are sticking around,” Alex says. “That’s the one small piece of good news.”
“Them and the soldiers.” Lev takes a deep breath and blows it out. “There’s also the less legitimate side of things.”
“I thought you were involved in all that?” I ask, frowning between him and Alex.
They exchange looks. “I was, and I still am, but my father kept a lot of that stuff a secret. After he died, we went through his books and his papers, and it turns out he had fingers in a dozen or more pots. There’s a whole legal dance I need to go through until I have access to his accounts and until the family’s money becomes mine. In the meantime, everything’s frozen.”
“Including the Canadian job,” Alex says, shading his eyes against the sun.
“Valentin’s going to give that to someone else soon enough.” Lev begins to pace. Fifty yards away, a big machine spools to life as the gravediggers begin to cover over their father’s grave.
Natalya watches them with a strange satisfaction. “He’s really gone now, huh?”
Lev stops pacing. He puts a hand on Natalya’s shoulder, and the pair of them watch in silence. Then he squeezes. “Can’t make you marry anyone else now.”
She laughs. It’s an ugly laugh, but some of the tension bleeds from the little group. “What do we do now then?”
“Win Valentin over,” Alex says. “Make him see that you’re not your father. You’re better .”
“We need a meeting, but he hasn’t been responding to any of my messages,” Lev tells him.
“Adriano can help,” I say, perking up. “Why don’t I ask my cousin? He’ll know what to do.”
Alex and Lev exchange a look. “I don’t want to owe him anymore,” Lev says.
“He didn’t do all that much during your little coup,” I point out and glance at Natalya. “Sorry if that sounds harsh.”
“It’s okay. Alex told me the story already.”
“She’s got a point.” Alex crosses his arms and turns away from the differs. “At the very least, it’s worth a try.”
“Reach out to him,” Lev says, taking my hand in his, holding it tight. “I’ll do my best to rebuild my father’s network in the meantime.”
“That’s a plan then.” I lean against his chest as Alex and Natalya walk toward their car. Lev hugs me back. I breathe in his smell and close my eyes. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
“Your dad died. This was his funeral. It’s kind of normal to be upset.”
“I’m not normal.”
“I know, but?—”
“I’m fine,” he says again, except his tone softens. “Thinking about Stepan, that’s all. But I’m happy my father’s gone, even if there are complications.”
“We’ll convince Valentin. You’ll win over your father’s old business partners. It’ll be okay.”
“If only I had your optimism.”