Chapter 40 Serafina
SERAFINA
“Knock, knock.” Vanessa leans on my doorframe, Veles pushing past her. “Ana mentioned Lev’s taking you to the ballet. Unfortunately, there’s a dress code.”
Is there? “Oh. I have a dress that’d work, I think. A sundress.” It’s hanging in the attached closet. Given we’re approaching winter, most of my dresses stayed back in Italy.
“These things are a bit more formal than sundresses, so I’ve come to see if you’d like to go shopping with me?
” Suddenly, the confident Pakhan dissipates into the woman I envision her being beneath Ursin’s control—nervous.
“We’ve hardly spent any time together, and you’ve been here for a while. I’d really like to get to know you.”
Shopping with my sister. Such a basic activity to others, but something neither of us assumed we’d have.
“I’d like that.”
“I’m free now, but if you’re busy studying, we can go another day.” She scans my laptop and textbooks spread all over the bed.
With Lev working to track down the mansion’s other resident I’ve yet to meet—Dimitri, who apparently tried to quit the Bratva and is now ignoring all communication from him and Vanessa—I opted to work up here and give him privacy.
I move everything to the side and retrieve my phone. “There’s always studying to be done, so now works.”
“Wonderful.” Her tone and matching smile make me hopeful it’s a genuine response.
Vanessa takes me to some ritzy bouquet in Moscow where the main colour is white of every shade.
Sheer curtains drape many of the windows, and the walls that aren’t made of glass are painted a vibrant white.
White leather couches are scattered around, and the lights are an unfortunate luminescence that burns my eyes.
By the door, Vanessa’s two soldiers linger, not fitting in whatsoever. Their black outfits that appear straight from the front lines of a battle are everything opposite of the shop’s princess suite vibes.
She explained she doesn’t usually take extra protection when in her own territory, but today, she chose to. While not stating it’s because of me, I figured that one out for myself.
After Vanessa greets the staff, one rushes off to get “Miss Volkov and her friend a drink.”
Once we’re alone, Vanessa leans closer. “This place reminds me of the past. I avoid it unless absolutely necessary.”
“When you were younger?”
“Papa believed women’s uses were to look pretty and make social connections, so he sent me off to play nice with business partners’ daughters.
Shopping trips, lunches, whatever other social events he deemed important.
This was a common stop, so it brings back a lot of resentment.
Unfortunately, it works well for our needs, and they do make nice stuff, so it’ll be perfect. ”
“Are you coming with us?” Although I’d love a night out alone with Lev, like a real date, having my sister there too seems like a pleasant experience.
Her nose wrinkles. “Unfortunately, pre-scheduled meetings decided I won’t. My cousin’s disappearance is getting worrisome, so I need to focus on that.”
The woman who left earlier pops back up with a cheery disposition and a tray of two champagne glasses. With an eye roll directed my way, Vanessa takes one, almost downing it in one go, much to the staff’s distaste. It’s nearly laughable, so I go for a slower approach, sipping mine.
Vanessa gestures after handing her empty glass back. “This is Serafina, a friend. She’ll be attending one of Anastasia’s performances and needs a dress that’ll suit.”
“Hm.” The woman studies me in the same way I do my experiments in the lab. “With your hair and skin, a bold colour will compliment you well. Blue, perhaps, or red. A deep burgundy would also work with the hints of blonde in your hair.”
I glance at Vanessa who merely shrugs and gives me a look that says, See? What did I tell you?
“Um, whatever you think is good.”
Zeno has financially taken care of Madre and me, but considering my casual upbringing and Madre no longer within the Cosa Nostra, the nicest dress I’ve ever owned was for my graduation.
The woman leads me to a rack, pulling off multiple dresses in shades of red and blue, and once there’s about a dozen hanging off her arm, she leads us towards the changing rooms.
Vanessa waves her away. “Spasibo. We got it from here. I’ll call if we need more help.”
The woman exits the area, taking her energy with her. Even Vanessa exhales loudly.
“If she remains, she’d probably dress you herself.” She wanders forward, flicking through the options, separating them into piles of red versus blue. She gestures to the three red ones. “My advice: try these first. Red will suit you better than blue.”
The first is a simple A-line in a deep red that ends up feeling too puffy. The second is a slim cut halter, but the top sits weird and isn’t comfortable.
The third, in burgundy, is made with soft material, almost a silk, that feels fantastic against my skin. The front rises high, clipping around my neck while leaving my shoulders and back entirely bare, ending just above my knees.
This one, I show Vanessa.
“I wasn’t a fan of the other two.”
She whistles, lifting to her feet to inspect closer. “Da. This suits you perfectly. We’ll have to send your brother a picture.” She pauses, tapping her chin. “Hm, maybe not. Then he’ll hide you away, and you’ll miss the show. That’d be a damn shame.”
“This one it is.”
We head to a small restaurant Vanessa speaks highly of, settling into a private booth near the back. Once the waitress finishes tripping over herself, she disappears to retrieve our drinks.
“The name Volkov has a long history in Russia, and Papa used to eat here often. The owners are very hospitable to our family,” she explains, smirking at the waitress flittering behind the bar.
The restaurant is intimate, filled with small groups and couples. By the door, her two bodyguards linger, sipping water, their eyes constantly sweeping. They pay extra attention to the waitress who quickly returns with two glasses of red wine.
“I’ll pay you back for the dress. Or Zeno will, I guess.”
She flicks her fingers. “Nonsense. Consider it a gift. Besides, isn’t this what family does?” She lifts her drink to her mouth, and if she has feelings about her last comment, they’re well hidden.
“Do you really mean that?”
“Of course. Our history is strange, but I’d like to change it. To become friends, or even sisters, in all the correct ways.”
I’ll never replace what Anastasia is to her, and she’ll never be a second Zeno to me. Eighteen years of history has gone into my current sibling relationship, but that doesn’t mean I won’t spend the next eighteen changing that.
First step in a sibling relationship is the teasing.
“Are you going to be a pain in the ass like Zeno?”
“Will I need to?” Her brow arches.
“Depends how strict you are.”
She laughs, and the waitress arriving to collect our order distracts us both. Vanessa orders a Russian delicacy I could barely read off the menu, and I go with food I trust: pasta.
Once the waitress runs off, Vanessa murmurs, “My strictness will depend on what happens in the future. For now, one day at a time.”
I tap my glass against hers. “One day at a time.”