Chapter 13
Zita
The Russian lesson ends with a soft chime in my earbuds, and I pull them out as I walk through the mansion’s quieter wing.
I’ve been working through basic conversational phrases for the past hour, trying to master the pronunciation of words that feel foreign on my tongue.
If I’m going to be Tigran’s true partner in this business, I need to understand when his men speak in their native language around me.
The hallway here is dimmer than the main areas of the house, lined with smaller sitting rooms that I assumed were rarely used.
One of them has its door slightly ajar, and warm light spills into the corridor.
I wouldn’t have paid attention except I hear Tigran’s voice carrying through the opening, speaking in English rather than Russian.
I pause, not intending to eavesdrop but curious about why he’s meeting here instead of his usual office when he promised to include me in future meetings. My steps slow as I recognize Viktor’s gravelly tone responding to something Tigran said.
“She’s not like the other wives, boss.” Viktor’s voice carries concern that makes me freeze completely. “The men are talking.”
“What are they saying?” Tigran’s response is calm and measured.
“That she doesn’t know her place and letting her into the conference room sets a dangerous precedent.” Dmitri’s clipped accent joins the conversation. “Some are wondering if you can control your own household.”
My heart suddenly feels like it’s in my throat. They’re talking about me and my involvement in the organization. Part of me wants to walk away before I hear something that will hurt, but I lean closer to the door instead.
“My wife proved her value in that meeting,” Tigran says, and there’s steel in his voice that surprises me. “Her analysis prevented us from making a costly mistake. Frankly, I had already reached the same conclusion and was about to tell you all that when she interrupted.”
“Her analysis embarrassed seasoned lieutenants who’ve served this family for decades,” Viktor counters. “Georgi hasn’t spoken to anyone since she questioned his recommendations.”
“His recommendations would have started a war we couldn’t win.” Tigran’s tone grows sharper. “My wife saw what he couldn’t, and she had the courage to speak up about it.”
“Your wife humiliated him in front of his peers,” Dmitri interjects. “In our world, that kind of disrespect has consequences.”
I press closer to the door, my pulse thrumming. They’re debating whether I’m an asset or a liability. That he’s defending me when I’m not there to hear it makes me smile in spite of a surge of fear about whatever consequences Dmitri has in mind.
“The only consequence will be better decision-making,” Tigran says firmly. “Zita brings perspectives none of us have. She sees patterns we miss because we’re too close to the situation.”
“She sees patterns in newspapers and academic journals.” Viktor’s voice carries skepticism. “That’s not the same as understanding how this business actually works.”
“She understood enough to recognize that gang warfare brings federal attention we can’t afford.” There’s pride in Tigran’s voice now, unmistakable and fierce. “She understood enough to know that maintaining political relationships requires subtlety, not violence, and she’ll learn the rest.”
My breath catches at the conviction in his tone. He’s not just tolerating it but genuinely advocating for it while defending my contributions against men who’ve been his advisors for years.
“Boss,” Dmitri says carefully, “We’re not questioning your wife’s intelligence. We’re questioning whether including her in operational discussions compromises security.”
“How does it compromise security?” asks Tigran.
“Wives talk,” Viktor says. “They share information with friends, family members, and other people who might not have our best interests at heart.”
“My wife knows how to keep her mouth shut. Her family consists of her father, who’s already our ally. Who exactly is she going to talk to?”
“It’s not about who she talks to now,” Dmitri says. “It’s about the precedent it sets. If other wives think they can demand inclusion in business matters—”
“Other wives aren’t Zita.” Tigran’s interruption is sharp and final. “Other wives don’t have business degrees from Northwestern or the analytical skills to prevent catastrophic mistakes. I can’t think of another wife of an associate or rival who has any interest in the business. Can you?”
The warmth inside intensifies. He’s defending me specifically, acknowledging abilities that set me apart from the decorative wives most Bratva leaders prefer.
“No, I guess I can’t. She’s different, and we understand that,” Viktor concedes, “But different doesn’t always mean better. Your father—”
“My father is dead.” The words come out like bullets. “My father’s methods died with him. I’m building something different here that will be better.”
The room goes silent for a moment. When Viktor speaks again, his voice is careful and respectful. “What exactly are you building, boss?”
“A more stable, prosperous business,” Tigran says simply. “I’m smart enough to recognize a woman strong enough to challenge me when I’m wrong and shrewd enough to offer solutions when I’m stuck. She’ll only help make things better serving as my partner.”
“Partnerships require trust,” Dmitri says. “How can you trust someone who’s been in this world for such a short time?”
“How can I not trust someone who’s already proven her loyalty by choosing to learn our language, our customs, and our business instead of running from them?
” Tigran counters. “She could have demanded living separate lives after the wedding or retreated into socialite activities and charity work. Instead, she asked to be included.”
I touch my throat unconsciously, remembering the Russian phrase I was practicing when the lesson ended. He’s noticed my efforts to learn their language and to understand their world better. The observation makes my chest constrict.
“Including her in strategy sessions is one thing,” Viktor says, “But there are other aspects of this business—”
“That she’ll learn about when she needs to know,” Tigran finishes. “I’m not na?ve, Viktor. I understand the risks, but I also understand the value of having someone I can trust completely, whose interests align perfectly with mine.”
“Do you think her interests align with yours?” Dmitri’s tone suggests doubt.
“I think her survival depends on the success of this organization,” he says after a moment. “She’s smart enough to recognize that fact and strong enough to act on it.”
The conversation shifts to other topics, covering shipping schedules, protection payments, and political contributions, but I’m no longer listening. My mind races with everything I’ve just heard and Tigran’s fierce defense of my involvement.
He trusts me not just with information or responsibilities, but with his reputation among men who’ve served his family for decades. He’s willing to challenge tradition and risk their disapproval because he believes in my abilities.
The realization should make me happy. Instead, it fills me with a strange kind of pressure. What if I can’t live up to his faith in me? What if his trust is misplaced, and I end up proving Viktor and Dmitri right?
I’m so lost in my thoughts that I don’t notice the conversation in the sitting room has ended until the door opens wider and Viktor emerges. He sees me standing in the hallway and stops short, his weathered face registering surprise and something that might be suspicion.
“Mrs. Belsky.” Viktor’s tone is polite but wary. “I didn’t realize you were there.”
“I was just finishing my Russian lesson,” I say, holding up my phone and earbuds as evidence. “I didn’t want to interrupt your meeting.”
Dmitri appears behind Viktor, his expression equally cautious. Both men study my face, probably trying to determine how much I overheard. Tigran emerges last, frowning when he sees me. “Your Russian lessons are going well?”
“Slowly but surely.” I manage a smile despite the awkwardness of the situation. “I’m starting to recognize more words when people speak around me.”
“Good.” There’s approval in his voice, but also something else that suggests he knows exactly how much of their conversation I heard. “Viktor, Dmitri, we’ll continue this discussion tomorrow.”
The dismissal is clear. Both men nod respectfully and head toward the main part of the house, leaving Tigran and me alone in the dimly lit hallway. “How much did you hear?” he asks once they’re out of earshot.
I meet his gaze directly. “Enough to understand that you’re taking significant risks by including me in your business.”
“Are you sorry I am?”
The question catches me off-guard. “Are you asking if I’m sorry you defended me, or if I’m sorry I’ve put you in a position where you need to defend me?”
“Both.”
I consider the question seriously, weighing the warmth I felt at his advocacy against the pressure of living up to his expectations. “I’m not sorry you defended me. I’m grateful that you see value in what I bring to this organization.”
“And the second part?”
“I’m not sorry I’ve forced you to reconsider how this business operates,” I say after a moment, “But I am concerned about the consequences for you if I fail to prove myself worthy of your trust.”
Something shifts in his expression, surprise giving way to something softer. “You’re worried about me?”
“I’m worried about what happens to your authority if your wife turns out to be a liability instead of an asset.” I swallow a lump in my throat. “I’m worried about what happens to us if I can’t be the partner you need me to be.”
He steps closer. “You heard Viktor and Dmitri’s concerns.”
“I heard their concerns, and I heard you dismiss them without hesitation.” I search his face for any sign of doubt. “I heard you defend me against men whose opinions you value.”
“I defended you because everything I said was true.” He cups my face. “You are different from other wives. You do bring valuable perspectives, and you’re strong enough to be my partner in this.”
“How can you be so certain?”
“Because you’re standing here worried about my reputation instead of running from the responsibilities I’m offering you.” His smile is small but genuine. “You’re learning Russian on your own initiative instead of expecting me to translate everything for you.”
The observation makes my throat feel full again. “You noticed.”
“I notice everything about you, including how hard you’re working to understand this world. You’ve stopped looking for ways to escape this marriage and started looking for ways to improve it.”
“Is that what I’m doing?”
“Isn’t it?” He studies my expression carefully. “Unless you have some other reason for learning the language and asking to be included in business decisions?”
I shake my head. Somewhere between our wedding and now, I’ve stopped seeing this marriage as a prison and started seeing it as an opportunity. The realization should frighten me, but it feels warmly reassuring instead. “I want to be worthy of your trust.”
“You already are.” He traces the line of my jaw with his thumb. “There’s another meeting soon.” His expression grows serious. “I want you there.”
My eyes widen. “Viktor and Dmitri won’t approve. Neither will the others.”
“Viktor and Dmitri don’t get to approve or disapprove of my decisions regarding my wife. Neither do the other lieutenants.” There’s steel in his voice that leaves no room for argument. “They get to adapt to new realities or find employment elsewhere.”
The fierce protectiveness in his tone makes my pulse quicken. “What if they’re right? What if including me compromises security or undermines your authority?”
“We’ll deal with those consequences when they arise, but I don’t think they will. I think you’re going to surprise everyone with how naturally you fit into this world.”
“Including myself?”
“Especially yourself.” His kiss is soft but loaded with promise.
As he leads me back toward the main part of the house, I think about everything I overheard. Tomorrow night, I’ll have another chance to prove myself worthy of his faith. The thought terrifies and exhilarates me in equal measure.
Anticipation runs underneath the anxiety. I’m finally getting the chance to be the partner I’ve wanted to be from the beginning, and to prove that Tigran’s trust in me isn’t misplaced.
I just hope I don’t disappoint him. I don’t think I could handle seeing doubt in his eyes where there’s currently only confidence.