Chapter 5
Katarina
Carrying a tray of baklava to the front display before the dinner rush, I smiled at the regulars.
“Katya, you make sure they save me some for after dinner,” Mr. Antonov said as his wife batted his arm.
“The doctor said no more sweets,” she scolded before she tossed a smile my way.
“I’m seventy-five, woman. If I want sweets, I’m having sweets.”
Anya, our hostess, gave a playful eyeroll as she grabbed menus. “C’mon, you two. Let’s get you seated before it gets too busy.” Her short brown bob swayed as she escorted the elderly couple to their favorite table in the back.
After I replaced the tray, I carried the empty one to the kitchen and put it in the rack of the huge industrial dishwasher. There was a little more space so I grabbed a tub to go bus some tables.
As I rounded the corner to the dining room, Robbie whistled at me. “I got that. What are you doing?” He was a few years younger, working here after his classes at the community college nearby. He kept his dark brown hair short and wore the assigned black pants and white button down.
“Just helping. We need to get the washer running so I was looking for a few plates. The rush is coming soon.”
Robbie took the tub from me with an eye roll so I followed behind him, grabbing a rag and cleaner from the order kiosk on my way past.
It took a lot of begging, or nagging, but I finally got Papa to agree to a few upgrades in the restaurant a couple years back.
We were small and family-owned but were also busy.
Sure, a lot of his associates and friends paid with cash, but the average person coming for a meal, even if they knew what the restaurant really was, often used cards. Even the Antonov’s used a card to pay.
The servers were ecstatic with the upgrade. It streamlined ordering, was much faster for them, and helped with tabs. Plus, no accidents if the chef couldn’t read their shorthand and no tickets getting lost, missed, or prepped out of order.
Papa wouldn’t let me find a job elsewhere, so I made it my life’s work to take over the restaurant and bring it to the twenty-first century. Maria’s was my mother’s. It was the only part of our legacy I chose for myself.
Papa had been hinting at giving me away the last few years.
It’s always been understood that I’d have no choice.
It was my duty as the only daughter to bring families together.
My only hope was for the family to be close enough that I could still run the restaurant.
And that whoever I was given to was a fair man.
Mama passed when I was young, but I didn’t believe my father to be a one-woman man.
I didn’t understand until I was older, but there had been times as a child I saw Papa speaking to women who worked at our home or at the restaurant and the way he looked at them was much different than the average interaction.
When I asked Niko if my suspicions were correct, he told me to not ask questions I didn’t want to know.
I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want to know. But Niko was always trying to shield me. He was the best brother a girl could ask for, but he annoyed me to no end and treated me like a child, even when I grew up. I needed to know the expectations for me. The little mafia princess.
It sounded so powerful and important, but really it was a title of property. I currently belonged to Papa, and soon I’d belong to some other mafiaso who would eventually take over his own family.
After attending all the parties since my early teen years, I started to put together some things on my own.
As a younger teen, I was only allowed to be at the parties for dinner and maybe a few minutes after before a driver would take me home.
Once I was in high school, I was able to stay later, but only in approved spaces of the various homes.
If the party was at our house, the girls my age were all quarantined to the dining room or the sitting room.
If it wasn’t too cold, we’d mingle outside, but even there, we’d be run back in occasionally by Papa’s associates.
Over time, I learned that was because the men liked to go outside to speak about sensitive matters.
It had to be exhausting always being suspicious of everyone and everything around you. Perhaps that was my silver lining as a woman, never having to worry my pretty little head over such things.
To my father’s dismay, I wasn’t a complete dingbat. And I wasn’t a proper little princess. He thought it was a waste for me to go to college, but I got my way by constantly interrupting his meetings, blowing up his phone with nonsense, and generally annoying him.
He finally allowed me to attend culinary school since I showed so much interest in the restaurant. But culinary school wasn’t all just fancy food and cocktails. No, there I learned more about business than anything.
Even though I knew my lot in life was to be a trophy wife, I wanted more.
I could dress up and smile through parties and baptisms, even be a perfect host for when we had guests.
And I’d have children. But what I wouldn’t do was spend my days ordering my house staff around or let a nanny completely raise my kids while I was busy perfecting my tan and getting my second round of lipo for the season.
Sure, I’d have enough money to have help and I’d take advantage for things like mopping and dusting. Who likes dusting? But I could run a home and a business. What was the point of having privilege if you squandered it?
Mama had the restaurant, and she had us.
We spent time with the nanny and, of course at school, but still saw Mama a great deal until she left this earth.
Over the years, I’d watched as other men in power who ran in Papa’s circle had the perfect trophy wife who did nothing but play the part and they still were cheated on.
If I had to accept that was the way of life for women like me, I at least wanted something that was all mine.
But things like that made me long for my mother’s guidance and support.
“Katya,” Niko called from upstairs.
I turned and looked up. His cropped blond hair was perfectly combed, his face clean shaven, and he donned a pair of navy suit pants, a white dress shirt, and a burgundy tie. I’d probably find his blazer draped over a chair upstairs.
He tapped his fingers on the railing of the stairs. “Father would you like you to join us, sister.”
“Be right there, Niko.” Sighing, I mouthed, “sorry,” to Robbie and handed him the towel and spray.
Niko had been gone a few days and only returned early this morning. I happened to be up training early when the notification from the front gate popped up on my phone while I was listening to my fight mix.
He waited at the top of the stairs as I headed up, his blue eyes sparkling from the light of the chandelier in the main entryway.
While I got the same light hair, I had always been jealous of his ocean eyes.
Sometimes looking into dark irises in my reflection reminded me so much of Mama that it choked me up.
It was nice that I carried a piece of her with me forever, though.
After hugging my brother, I stepped into the formal dining room that was often reserved for Papa and his acquaintances. I walked to the large table where Papa was at the head of it.
He stood, his arms out and a bright smile. His dirty blond hair was more ashen now and his blue eyes were bright as the lines around them crinkled. “My little Katushka, so radiant.” Papa still had a bit of an accent while Niko’s was subtle and mine usually was faint, except if I was mad.
I wrapped my arms around him, not able to meet my hands around his back. Even though I hated that he smoked, I drew in the scent of his cigar as I pressed my face to his chest.
Pulling away, I smiled up at him. Papa may have not been the best husband, but he was a wonderful father. He was larger than life, not just in size but in presence. He could command a room with a look and unfortunately I knew he’d ordered men to death with one as well. But to me, he was just Papa.
“Good evening, Papa. Haven’t seen you all day,” I said as Niko pulled out a chair for me so I took a seat. “Thank you, brother.”
Papa sat back down and Niko took a seat across from me. We both sat on either side of Papa at the long, wooden dining table. Only place settings for the three of us were out.
Dinner was plated. Because it was a restaurant, the cuisine was all traditional Russian dishes to keep the customers happy.
At home we ate a variety of foods, but we had many meals at the restaurant, so we ate like tourists most of the time.
I did enjoy our traditional meals, but wished I had a bit more variety sometimes.
We all began with a small cup of borscht followed by lamb and rice. We ate quietly with a few pleasantries occasionally.
“How was your day?”
“What sweets did you bake for us today?”
“What do you think of the weather?”
Always so superficial towards me. I just smiled, answered succinctly, and nodded a lot. While Papa was loving, he was still the head of the family and to him I was still a child and a female, even though I was twenty-four and successfully running the restaurant.
After our dinner was cleared, tea and coffee were brought out along with a variety of the pastries and pies I’d prepared the last two days.
Of course we had tea, it was a Russian restaurant.
But having lived in America my whole life, I took a liking to coffee.
And the few times we’d visited the old country, there was a coffee shop around every turn.
Although there, they’re not coffee shops, but cafes.
And our coffee was still much richer than most you found here.
So, you could order a proper tea at the restaurant, but we served more coffee.
Once Papa dug his spoon into a slice of cheesecake, I reached for a crème br?lée. It was one of my favorite desserts to prepare and I enjoyed the delicate but not overly sweet taste. And it paired well with coffee.
“My little Katushka, I need to speak with you,” Papa said after he swallowed his bite.
Tapping my spoon on the hard crust of my dessert, I smiled. “Yes, Papa?”
Niko put his cup and his spoon down.
My own spoon was standing in my custard while I held it in place as I looked between them.
Papa didn’t often announce he was about to speak, he just did.
And Niko didn’t often look nervous, but even though his face was stoic, the vein in his forehead was prominent and the artery in his neck was pulsing wildly.
Papa took another bite of cheesecake, then sipped his coffee to wash it down. This happened in a matter of seconds but it felt like hours as I held my spoon in place. My own heart beat so fast I knew my own artery was about to burst from my neck.
“Darling, the time has come. You are to be wed.” He took another bite of his cheesecake.
Nodding gently even though my heart skipped a beat then continued at rapid pace, I said, “I wondered when this day would come.” Trying to seem calm and agreeable, I finally scooped a bite of custard and said, “I’m excited to hear who you have chosen for me, Papa,” before finally tasting the dessert I prepared.
Honestly, I was surprised it had taken this long.
If you asked the right circle, I was an old maid.
“You’ll marry Hawk Jones. He’s an honorable man.”
Custard didn’t seem like a food you could choke on, but indeed it’s quite possible, especially with a sugary crust. Coughing and putting my spoon down, I picked up my coffee and took slow sips because of the heat.
“You alright, my Katushka?” Papa asked.
Finally clearing my throat, I said, “I’m sorry. Forgive me, Papa. I thought you said I was to wed one of the bikers that comes to visit you. You shouldn’t jest while we dine.” I’d never actually met any of them, but I’d overheard names enough times.
“I’m quite serious. He’ll be visiting soon. We’ll arrange for a proper reception at a later time but for now we will have a private ceremony with a small gathering after. You should make arrangements for your things to be packed and tie up any affairs here.”
My head was spinning. Pack? “Wait. They live far away, somewhere south. And they’re outlaws.”
Niko said, “Now Katya, Hawk is a friend. He’s a good man.”
“Et tu, Brute?” I couldn’t believe he was encouraging this outlandish idea. Unshed tears blurred my vision and I stood. “If you’ll excuse me.”
“Katarina,” Papa declared, but I didn’t stop.
Instead I rushed down to the kitchen and grabbed my driver. “We’re leaving. Now.”
I wouldn’t run away. Everyone worked for my father anyway so nobody would help me and everyone in the area would quickly have me returned to him. But if he thought I was going to finish my dessert quietly and smile after he shared his plan he was sorely mistaken.
Instead, I’d go get my frustration out in the training room before I cried myself to sleep in my bedroom, while it was still mine.
Rushing outside, my driver was right behind me and I practically flew into the car once he opened the door.
Looking in the rearview I finally let a tear roll down my cheek as I watched us pull away from the restaurant, and neither of them even ran after me.