Chapter Seven
Tiana
“The funeral parlor is sending me copies of the order of service this afternoon.” I smile at Dima, who looks mildly satisfied. I’ve come to the conclusion that the man never smiles.
“The flowers?” he presses.
“Lilies and white roses,” I tell him.
“And you were sure that—”
“I made certain that there will be thirty roses in each arrangement. It is an even number – according to Russian tradition,” I tell him. I’d done my homework before getting into this.
“Da.” He gives a curt nod before leaving the room. I settle back onto the plush cream couch, glancing at the notes spread out across the coffee table in front of me. A cup of herbal tea and a plate of saltines is set off to one side – all that I can manage to tolerate most mornings.
Dima had been surprised when I told him that I wanted to plan Irina’s funeral.
But it’s given me something to focus on during this difficult phase.
I didn’t know her long, but in the short time we spent together, I grew to care for her deeply.
We may have had many communication barriers, but she was the only real mother figure I’ve ever had.
I never knew my mother and my relationship with my father was complicated, to say the least.
Yeah, right.
Complicated.
I huff out a small snort. If you could call selling your own daughter “complicated.” But he was my dad, and like any human, he had his flaws.
He was controlling and demanding, just like Kirill can be.
But he never showed me affection or made me feel loved, not the way Kirill does…
in his own twisted way. Nobody has ever made me so cared for.
With Kirill, as dysfunctional and complicated as the relationship is, there’s passion there.
Obsession, even. I can feel how much he wants me, needs me.
It scares me, but it also makes me feel alive.
Irina was different. She was warm, gentle, accepting.
I could be myself around her, tell her my secrets – even though I knew she was largely unaware of what I was telling her.
Although from what Kirill told me, she knew I was there and she enjoyed my company.
We connected somehow. Now she’ll never get to meet her grandchild.
She never even met her other grandchild, Stepan. It breaks my heart.
I stroke my still-flat stomach, imagining what it will be like to hold my baby in my arms. A piece of Kirill growing inside me.
I know I should be afraid, but part of me is excited, too.
If I’m being honest, the darkness calls to me just as strongly as the light.
I’d never known that about myself. It’s something that’s dawned on me since meeting this enigmatic man.
And now I’m drawn to the shadows, to the thrill of danger.
But a baby changes everything. I’ll be responsible for an innocent life, and I know I can’t raise a child in Kirill’s world.
Not with all the lies and dysfunctionality weighing down on us.
Not with all the Bratva shit going on. And especially not with Zoya back in the picture.
Seeing her here, inserting herself into Kirill’s life again so forcefully…
It is one of the many red flags I can’t ignore.
The baby’s safety must be your first priority.
I must remember that I’m playing with fire.
This baby in my belly is everything. I must be more cautious than ever.
No matter how wildly my body reacts to Kirill every time he’s around me, I musn’t forget the things I learned about him.
His wife. The things Roxie said to me. And if I’m ever going to find a way to get away from this life, I must do it before the signs of my pregnancy start showing.
Except things are not that simple anymore.
Not with the FBI on my back, watching my every move. I really don’t know what to do.
I force the confusing thoughts to the back of my mind, trying not to think about how cornered I am. All I know is that I have to be here for now. Perhaps I just need to be patient and keep my eyes open. Perhaps things will work out on their own.
I sink against the back of the couch and run my hand over a soft cushion beside me. The velvety surface is smooth against my palm; I keep stroking the fabric, trying to soothe myself. It doesn’t work.
You’re out of your depth…
Despite how fucked up our relationship is, my heart aches at the thought of losing Kirill.
As perverse as it is, I love him. He may have lied to me and treated me like a commodity, but he also made me feel treasured and cared for in a way no-one ever has.
I’m addicted to the passion we share, that all-consuming desire.
He makes me feel like I’m the only woman in the world when I’m in his arms. I’ve never felt more alive than when I’m with him.
I know it’s wrong to feel that way, but I still do.
And it’s going to break my heart if I have to leave him behind.
If you can even pull it off.
As for Zoya, I don’t even know what to think of her. It’s not just that she’s beautiful. She knows Kirill in a way I never will. They speak the same language; not just Russian, but the language of power and violence.
Perhaps he’ll take Zoya back and I’ll be no use to him anymore.
Perhaps then, I can leave. Start fresh somewhere new, somewhere safe. But how would I survive losing Kirill Vyronov, the father of my child? If I ever found a way out of here, would he come looking for me?
It’s not something I want to think about yet. And if I’m honest, there will always be part of me that would want him to find me. As much as he scares me, I’m pulled to that darkness like a moth to a flame. I know it’s fucked up, but I can’t seem to pull myself out of his orbit.
“God, Tiana… you need to sort your head out, girl.” I rub my eyes and take in a deep breath.
This whole situation is a mess and my thoughts are beyond confusing.
Zoya, Stepan, the baby, my feelings for Kirill.
But for now, I just have to hold it together and get through the next few days.
Do my best to give Irina the dignified sendoff she deserves.
Forget about the lies and support Kirill during this difficult time.
Push all my doubts and worries to the back of my mind while he grieves in that silent way of his.
I know he’s in pain; he’s just too proud to show it.
Reaching for my notepad and pen, I go over the details again.
The funeral will be small, just close friends and family.
Security will be a priority. After the accident that took Kirill’s father and sister, he’d kept his mother’s existence secret.
Dima has hinted that there was a fear that the accident had been a deliberate hit.
The thought of that makes my heart ache for Kirill and what he’s had to live through.
Stop it, Tee!
I keep remembering that moment after Irina died.
How I’d felt him soften for just a moment.
I don’t think I’ve ever seen a chink in his armor before, but that day, there was a glimpse of the sensitive soul beyond the mask.
The one who exists within the hard exterior that’s been tempered by years of living this life.
Enough!
Gnawing at the end of my pen, I frown as I force myself to focus on the pages in front of me. I can’t mess this up. Every detail needs to be perfect. Not for Kirill, but for Irina. Pushing everything else from my mind, I turn my attention back to my notes.
Unfortunately, I only get a few minutes of uninterrupted focus before the sound of heels clicking on marble makes me glance up. I freeze when I see Zoya striding into the room, looking as cool and elegant as ever. She gives me a thin smile as she settles onto the couch opposite me.
“Tiana,” she greets me with seemingly genuine warmth.
I nod in reply, trying not to let my surprise show.
“Thank you for what you are doing.” She flicks a hand in the direction of my notebook.
“Planning a funeral is no small task,” she says.
“Especially for someone like Irina. How are you getting on?” Her tone sounds pleasant, but there is something about it that puts me on edge.
I nod slowly. “I’m managing alright. Dima has been very helpful too.”
Zoya tilts her head. “Well, I’m glad that you are the one in charge.
I know my Kirill doesn’t handle emotional matters easily.
” She gives a little laugh. “Even as a young man, he would just shout and carry on to avoid feeling anything real. And when Irina died I could hear him yelling right across the house; threatening to kill everyone.” She rolls her eyes.
I bristle when she says “my Kirill,” but I bite my tongue. I know that was no accident. But I won’t give her the satisfaction of seeing she’s gotten under my skin.
“Yes, well… he was clearly very upset about losing his mother. But I think he’s feeling better now,” I say evenly.
Zoya nods, leaning back against the couch cushions.
“I have no doubt you were able to calm him down. Kirill has always responded well to certain… feminine wiles. I have learned this myself. In fact, I have done these things myself. It is just interesting that you have figured it out so quickly. It makes me wonder what special talents you might have.”
She smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. I feel my cheeks grow warm, but I meet her gaze steadily. I’m not about to let her intimidate me.
“I listen when he needs to be heard,” I shrug. “Nothing more.”
Zoya gives a low hum as if she doesn’t quite believe me. We’re both silent for a moment. I resist the urge to avert my gaze.
Finally, it’s Zoya who breaks the silence. “You know, I don’t think you fully appreciate who Kirill is, little girl.” Her voice has an edge now.
Little girl?
I set my jaw. “Is that so?”
She leans forward, ice-blue eyes boring into mine. “I have seen more than you can imagine, Tiana. The world he inhabits. The things he’s capable of.” Her lips are curled into a small smile, but it seems predatory. “Tread carefully, Tiana. I don’t think you know what you’re getting yourself into.”
I swallow hard but keep my face neutral. Inside, my thoughts are swirling. Is she threatening me?
Zoya smooths her skirt and sits back again, composed as ever.
“I also happen to know who your father was, child.” She arches one perfect brow. I’m getting increasingly annoyed with her condescension, but she has my attention with this new line. “The business he was involved with. You don’t want that getting back to Kirill now, do you?”
Suddenly, fear lances through me. Does she know something about my dad that I don’t?
Does she know about his role with the FBI?
Or is there something else? My mind races but I force myself to hold Zoya’s gaze.
I won’t give her the satisfaction of seeing how shaken I am.
I’ve had enough shit these past few days.
I don’t need her to add more layers to the pile.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I simply say.
“Is that so?” Zoya smirks. “Is your mind unclear? Perhaps it is simply the hormones talking.”
“Hormones?” My brow furrows.
“But of course. A woman in your condition would be flooded with them, yes?”
I feel the blood drain from my face. “My condition?”
“Do I need to spell it out, girl?” She winks. “We are both women, after all. We know these things. A man might miss it but me? Not likely.” She flits a meaningful look at the herb tea and dry biscuits on the coffee table.
My throat has closed up at the implication. If she knows about the baby…
Shit.
I can’t think about it. If she figured it out somehow and decides to hold this over me as leverage than I’m in much bigger trouble than I thought.
“Like I said, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I set my mouth in a grim line.
After a tense moment, Zoya shrugs, then rises gracefully to her feet. “But of course.” Her eyes remain cool, but there’s a flicker of amusement in their depths. “I’ll let you get back to your planning. I’m sure we’ll be speaking again soon.”
With that, she turns and sweeps from the room, stilettoes tapping sharply on the cool marble. I stare after her, pulse racing. What game is she playing here? Does she know something I don’t?
I take a shaky breath, trying to collect myself.
If Zoya wanted to rattle me, she succeeded.
And if she somehow figured that I’m pregnant, then I’m in for a world of shit.
I glance down at my notes, I force myself to refocus.
The funeral first. Then I can deal with everything else. One thing at a time.
Picking up my pen, I smooth the pages of my book and get back to work, planning a tribute worthy of the woman who was like a mother to me, however briefly. I owe Irina that much. I’ll finish this task for her memory.
Then the real fight begins.