22. Konstantin
TWENTY-TWO
Konstantin
I’m looking over the designs again, scowling at them. The internet informs me that this particular crib design might not be the safest for a child. There are supposed to be a lot of fancy features, and probably locks, and whatever other overprotective crap Americans insist on to protect their soft, weak, babies.
I should buy one. I can’t build anything as complicated as what’s recommended. Mine is just a standard, currently unfinished, wooden crib. I’d wanted to embellish it with a few flairs, something to make it unique, but what’s the point if a crib like that would just kill the baby?
The door quietly opens, and I recognize the footsteps without needing to look. Sierra’s boots on the floor are distinct. I turn to face her, and I see it when she spots the crib.
Her face pales, and her lips part like she’s going to say something to me. Instead, she starts to turn with a mumbled, “Nope. Not today, Satan.”
“What?” I ask, confused. “Why Satan?”
She glances at me with a huff of breath. “It’s a saying,” she explains. “It means that… Oh, never mind. Why are you working on a crib? Isn’t it a little early for that? ”
“Yes,” I admit with a sigh. “My brother’s mistress is pregnant right now. Maybe I should have it delivered to him.”
As if I would ever send him anything as personalized as this.
He’d take it as an insult, anyway, because it’s hand-made and not the safest, most expensive crib on the market.
“His mistress?” Sierra asks, looking more closely at the crib even though she stays by the door.
“Yes. I guess he didn’t learn from my father.” I let out a bitter chuckle. “Or he did, and doesn’t care.”
I expect this second child to be similarly looked over, constantly striving for recognition, while my brother dotes on his legitimate children instead. Or maybe Roman will surprise me and be a very attentive father, regardless of who the mother is.
“Do you think he’s going to treat her like…” She trails off, and I can see that she’s not sure how much to go into the whole issue. “Is this common in Russian society? The whole mistress versus wife thing?”
“I think it is common with men who are rich and powerful,” I say, regarding her closely. I could easily have more women in my lap—but if I’m honest, I’ve never much cared for the idea of cheating on a partner. I get so angry, thinking about how my father treated my mother, and I have no intention of doing that to any person. “Are you worried? I have no intention of finding anybody else. You have my full attention.”
It’s almost a full minute before she replies, but I’m patient enough to let her sort out her thoughts. “I’m worried I’m going to end up pregnant with a child no one actually wants, yes. You know I don’t want to have a baby at all,” she says bluntly, “and I definitely don’t want to be a single mother when my life is just getting started.”
“Why would we not want the baby?” I ask, truly surprised. “I want a child. I want your child. You are a beautiful, clever woman, and any child I—or Yura, or Nikolai—had with you would be amazing.”
Sierra purses her lips. “So you don’t care if it turns out to be Yuri or Nikolai’s? What if you find a woman you want to marry, and you decide you don’t want to deal with some illegitimate child?” She holds up a hand before I can reply, though, sighing. “No, you wouldn’t do that after the shit you went through, I guess. But you can’t blame me for worrying.”
“A child is a child,” I say fiercely. “I would not care who the biological father is.” I stop and scowl. “That is not an invitation to fuck anybody but us three. I would not forgive betrayal.”
She glares back at me. “Wow, is that what you think of me? That I’m just going to spread my legs for anyone? I’m already exhausted from the three of you trying to fuck me all the time. I don’t need another person on that particular roster,” she retorts.
“Then there is no problem at all,” I say with finality. I smile at her. “I’m going to scrap this crib. We’ll buy a modern one. With the best safety ratings.”
She looks at it again. “Okay,” she says slowly.
“What?” I ask. I run my hand over one of the railings I’d made, grimacing when I feel a splinter from where I’d missed a spot while sanding.
Sierra manages a strained smile. “It’s just nice, is all. Personal.” She shakes her head. “But you’re probably right about getting one that’s got all the bells and whistles.” She finally approaches me, inspecting the crib. “Maybe you could make a simple bassinet, to keep the… the baby close when it’s just been born.”
“Wouldn’t we want an extra safe one then, too?” I shake my head. “I’ll finish refurbishing that rocking chair. And build a changing table. I can repurpose some of this wood so it wasn’t a total waste of effort.”
I fold up the blueprints for the crib and get up, wiping my hands on my work apron.
“I’m surprised you’re willing to admit defeat,” she says. “I’m used to asshole douchebags who insist they do everything the best.”
“I don’t give up,” I say. “But I know how to pick my battles. There is no point in continuing something that won’t work anyway.” I incline my head at her. “Why are you here, anyway? You didn’t come here to watch me do woodworking.”
“This came,” she says, pulling an envelope out of her pocket. She looks wary as she hands it over to me. “I said I’d bring it to you.”
I take it from her, noticing that it’s already been opened, and I arch my brows at her.
She shrugs. “I was curious.”
I shake my head, but I’ve gotten used to her tendency to snoop where she doesn’t belong. I’m sure if she spoke Russian, she would be eavesdropping on all my conversations.
The card inside the envelope is plain, just completely normal card stock.
In simple font, it reads:
Dear Konstantin Voronkov,
You’re invited to Don Marino’s 65th birthday celebration. This year’s theme is Carnival! Wear your best suits, dresses, and masks.
My eyes widen. I’ve heard of Don Marino’s love of parties. I’ve never been invited before, though.
“It’s probably a trap,” Sierra says bluntly. “Especially with masks. Could they be any more obvious?”
“It’s probably a trap,” I agree, turning the card over. The back includes instructions about parking, guards, plus ones, weapons, and the general party rules.
The smart thing to do is to tear it up and pretend I never received it. I shouldn’t risk anything.
On the other hand: this is my best opportunity to get close to him. I need results for my father. I need something to show for all this trouble. If I can recover those fucking missing weapons…
I look up at Sierra. “The data you stole from him last time. Was it complete?”
She shakes her head. “I got interrupted. I’ve been trying to work on it, but I’m also working on my father’s files. I thought those were more immediate since shipments and all…” She trails off, suddenly wary. “I probably should’ve asked.”
“Okay. Focus on that now. Get us anything that will help us when we’re in his mansion.”
Sierra frowns at me. “What? No, we can’t go. That’s a trap. As we just discussed. ”
I let out a deep laugh. “He invited us! It would be rude to decline. Besides, a little networking never hurt anyone.” I smile at her. “You’ll look beautiful.”
She immediately shakes her head. “Absolutely not. If you want to get yourself shot up, that’s fine, but I’m not putting myself in the middle of gunfire again.”
I almost give in. I remember how shaken she’d been with the blood splattered on her.
Nobody else would be as effective at hacking Don Marino’s computers though. “You’re going,” I state. “You said you’d do anything we asked, remember? And I want you there to hack his computers.”
“You’re just asking for one of us to be hurt or worse,” Sierra mutters. Her hands are trembling, and I take them into mine. They envelop hers, making them look small in comparison. “But whatever, throw the blackmail in my face.”
“We will take Yura and Nikolai with us. They will protect you while I keep Don Marino occupied and see how much he actually knows.” I lift her hands and kiss the knuckles softly. “You are a strong, smart, capable woman. I know you can do this, Sierrochka.”
She breathes out slowly. Her hazel eyes are stormy, troubled, but she nods. “All right,” she says simply. “Are they going to let all four of us in?”
“They will,” I say. “The guards won’t dare refuse me.” I pull her close and wrap an arm around her shoulders. “It will be fun! Mafia parties are a brand of their own. The last one I went to, only one death threat got shouted.”
“Oh. Only one,” Sierra says, deadpan. “Well, that’s all right then.” She relaxes against me with a sigh. “All right. I’ll take care of getting all four of us on the guest list. Well. I’ll be your plus one, I guess, and I’ll get Nikolai and Yuri sorted. Shouldn’t be hard.”
I pull my phone out and send a text to Yura and Nikolai. “Imagine how handsome those two will look. Although, I’m not sure I know what a carnival outfit is.”
She laughs. “Lots of feathers and sparkles and bright colors.” She turns her head to look up at me. “Which will be vastly entertaining, considering it’s a bunch of mafia dudes and their… women.”
I trail a hand down her lean stomach. “We should get you one of those dresses that barely covers you.”
“Nope,” she says instantly. “You don’t really want other men gawking and thinking it’s an invitation, do you?” She quirks a brow in challenge.
I let out a low growl. “They would not dare.” I grip her hip and nuzzle her collar.
Before I can decide whether I want to fuck her, I hear Yuri and Nikolai approaching, speaking with each other in Russian.
Nikolai looks between us as they enter. “Getting started without us? I thought we were talking about some party.”
“Some party we absolutely should not be thinking about going to,” Sierra grumbles. “But nooo.”
“We’re going to one of those fancy carnival parties. With the masks and feathers.” I check the invite again. “Formal wear required. You can’t show up in leather, Yura.”
Yura scoffs. “I don’t always wear leather.”
“Yes, you do,” Nikolai says at the same time that Sierra scoffs at him.
“Konstantin wants us to go in and snoop in Don Marino’s computers right in his mansion,” Sierra says. “Someone please talk him out of that plan, at least. I’m too young to die.”
“Sounds fun,” Yura says. “Adventurous!” He smirks at Sierra. “You just don’t want to dress up.”
“That too,” she agrees. “I don’t even know what kind of carnival this is. Like, is it Brazilian? Venetian? Circus? You’d think he’d specify a little more, unless he wants to humiliate people who don’t show up in the right clothes. I’ll just wear a little black dress and a mask. Can’t go wrong with a little black dress.”
“That sounds boring,” Yura argues. He reaches out to stroke Sierra’s side. “We gotta do feathers, at least.”
Nikolai shrugs. “It’s probably just a generic fancy masquerade. I doubt he’d demand a complicated, culturally specific costume.”
Sierra looks like she wants to protest, but instead, she lets out an exasperated sigh. “Whatever. As long as I’m not showing skin, I’ll wear some feathers. On top of clothing,” she hurries to add.
I meet Nikolai’s eyes, and I know we’re on the same page.
Sierra is going to look amazing in the outfit we choose for her.
And yes, there’s going to be a lot of skin showing.