Ivan
It’s cute that Lily tries to hide her interest in me, but I know I can’t take advantage of her in such a vulnerable moment. She came here to learn about Dimitri, and it’s my duty to inform her of what she’s gotten herself into.
The terrors that she’s up against are greater than she realizes, and this isn’t going to be an easy conversation to have.
Lily, however, is still unaware. Her chocolate eyes are wide and curious as deep red soup laid down in front of her at the dinner table. Normally, I’d have guests sit a few seats down from me, or across the table, but I have some things to show her, so I’ve seated her right beside me.
“What’s this soup?” she asks, picking up a silver spoon and dipping it into her bowl.
“I take it you’ve never had borshch before?”
“Borshch! That’s what it’s called,” she replies excitedly. “No, I’ve had it before. Dimitri used to make it, but I always forget the name.”
“Makes sense,” I say, lifting my spoon. “But everyone makes it differently. I think he liked to use a lot of pepper.”
“So, you do know him,” she says, looking at me. Her eyes are so big and beautiful that I feel like I could fall into them and drown. They’re pools of glass in the orange candlelight.
I nod. “I knew him well when he was with our organization, but once he retired from it, I didn’t keep in touch as much as I should’ve. Business moves fast, but that’s no excuse. I just didn’t expect him to go so suddenly.”
Her eyebrows pull together in a frown. “You worked together?”
“For… twenty years? At least that much, but it could’ve been longer, honestly.”
She laughs, taking a spoonful of her soup. “Jesus, you must be old.”
“Forty-five. Still have a few more good years in me,” I reply, not expecting her to understand that life doesn’t end after thirty. She’s clearly still in the part of her life that feels like her youth will never end, but your twenties are short. You only realize that once they’re over and you have to face the long road ahead.
“Dimitri was sixty-two,” she says. “Not really that old. I thought he was going to live to be a hundred, at least.”
I’m glad she doesn’t think he was old. She’s more mature than I thought, but she’s still in her twenties. Mid-twenties, I think, but it’s better to ask than to assume.
“And how old are you?” I ask, taking a sip of my borshch.
“It’s impolite to ask a lady her age,” she teases, batting her eyelashes at me in a way that makes my heart melt.
A girl shouldn’t have this much power over a beast like me. It’s dangerous for both of us.
“So, you’re thirty,” I say, hoping that will bother her enough to open up.
“Twenty-five,” she snaps. “I don’t look thirty and you know it. I take care of my skin.”
I chuckle. “I can tell. You look like a porcelain doll, and I bet you’re soft as velvet, but I know you’d be angry if I touched you.”
The light dotting of freckles disappears under the glow of redness that spreads over her cheeks. She lowers her head to her bowl, slurping up soup to save herself from having to respond.
I place my hand on her back, feeling the warmth of her skin through her shirt. “Let’s talk about your uncle, shall we?”
She looks up, crimson soup dripping from her puffy lips. “Yes please.”
I can’t hide a smile. She’s the sweetest person when she’s not being feisty with me. It makes me want to scoop her up in my arms and tell her that everything will be okay. I want to be her protector, but I get the feeling she doesn’t trust me enough to let that happen.
She doesn’t appear to trust anyone but Dimitri, and he’s gone now.
“Let’s start with this,” I say, pulling a black leather-bound book from my back pocket. I lay it on the table, positioning it so that she can read the title. “Do you know what that says?”
She leans in, studying it for a moment before shaking her head. “No, I can’t read Russian.”
“But you recognize the language.”
“Yes, Dimitri had a lot of Russian books in his house. Even his ring had Russian on it, just like yours,” she says, pointing at the ruby sitting on my pinky.
I brush it with the tips of my fingers, remembering the oath I took the night I received it. It’s tattooed on my back as well, but the grooves in my mind are deeper than the ones in my flesh.
Family first.
Blood before anything else.
Lily doesn’t count, but she’s close enough to deserve similar treatment. If she were to take an oath, however, she’d be accepted in because of her relation to Dimitri, but I doubt she’d do something so drastic.
“Dimitri had the same ring. Everyone important in my organization does,” I explain, tearing off a piece of bread from the loaf between us. I dip it into my soup, soaking up the deep color. “It’s required to be part of the leadership in the Bratva.”
She wrinkles her nose in confusion. “Bratva?”
“You would call it the mafia, but I think it has significance far beyond simple organized crime. It’s a network that stretches across the world, with no regard for borders or local laws. It’s more important than simple manmade rules.”
Lily looks deep into her bowl as she absorbs what I’ve just told her. She has a quick mind, but it takes her a little while to come up with a response. “How can it be beyond the manmade? Is it not manmade itself?”
“Good question,” I reply, enjoying the way she thinks. “Some believe the Bratva has a divine energy on this earth, but I prefer to think of it as set into the natural order of the universe, like a river that’s flowed through the same spot for millions of years, cutting deep into stone. Few things have that kind of power. It’s long-lasting and generational.”
She nods slowly. “I think I understand. It’s kind of like the freemasonry.”
“There are masons among us, but we’re more powerful.”
“How so?”
“Do you know what sets us apart from everyone else?” I ask, looking for an honest response. It’s not just rhetorical. I really want to know if she can figure out the differences between the Bratva and other organizations.
She looks at me, studying the tattoos on the side of my face, then moving down to my chest and the buttons on my shirt. She taps a finger against her chin thoughtfully, then looks up at my face again. “There’s a lot of money involved.”
“True,” I reply with a smirk. “But how does one get this much money?”
“Business? You certainly can’t do that working a regular job.”
“The business of crime, yes,” I reply. “Which also entails something else.”
“Breaking the law?”
“You’re getting there,” I encourage, but I don’t think she’s patient enough for more riddles. I can see it in her face that she wants a straight answer.
“Alright,” I relent, “the answer is violence. Cold, brutal violence. There’s no way around it. We’re all going to hell for what we’ve done, and that’s something we must accept in order to be part of the Bratva.”
Lily’s spoon clatters down on the table. “I hope you’re not implying that Dimitri is capable of such violence.”
I see what has happened. She thinks that because her uncle was good and protective toward her, that he’s some kind of saint. In reality, he was ruthless, just like I am. It’s going to be a hard pill for her to swallow.
I lace my fingers together, leaning toward her and lowering my voice. “I’m sorry you have to learn about this so soon after he passed, but it’s in your best interest to understand what you’re involved with.”
“I’m not involved with anything,” she replies, pulling her head back. She looks like she wants to jump up from her seat and leave, but her curiosity is stronger than her revulsion. She wants the truth, no matter how bitter.
I unlace my fingers and lay my hand down on the black book. “Unfortunately, Lily, you are involved. The Red Hitters aren’t going to let you slide after seeing you with me. They probably already know you’re related to Dimitri, so that’s two strikes. If they see you out in public, well, that’s the third.” I run my thumb across my throat. “And you’re out.”
“Who the fuck are the Red Hitters?”
“A state sanctioned police group whose sole purpose is to bring down crime syndicates in any way possible. They operate outside the law because they realized that following the law wouldn’t get them the results they wanted. Currently, they have me as their target. Take down the leader, and you have a much better chance at dissolving the whole Bratva.”
Lily buries her head in her hands, shaking it as she mutters something to herself. I’m sure she regrets getting tangled up in this, but there’s no way out now. Fate brought her here, and she just has to ride it out.
I place my hand on her back in an attempt to comfort her, but she shrugs me off. “Stop that,” she grumbles. “I don’t need you touching me like that. It doesn’t help.”
I pull my hand back, turning my attention back to my dinner for a few minutes. We’ll get to talking again once she’s ready, but she’s still trying to come to terms with her new reality. It’ll take a while.
Lily is quicker than I expect, though. She turns to me in her chair, staring at me with fierceness in her eyes. “You’re telling me that Dimitri was part of the Bratva?”
I nod. “An essential part. Hard to replace once he was retired, but I understand why he wanted to leave. The stress is immense, and he had already made his money in it. Plus, he had a bad knee.”
A smile creeps onto her delicate face. “But he’d never use a cane. I always tried to get him to, but he was stubborn.”
I chuckle, flipping open the black book and riffling through the pages. “He always was like that. Never showed any weakness.”
“That was him. I didn’t even know he was sick until just before he died,” Lily says, her voice cracking as emotions overtake her. She dabs the corners of her eyes with a napkin. “Sorry, I thought I was all out of tears, but apparently not.”
“Take your time,” I say softly.
“Thank you.” Her voice is no more than a whisper as she swallows her tears and looks deep into her soup again. She’s lost in the memories, all the moments she had with Dimitri. I’ll admit I got lost the same way when I learned of his death. We did a lot together, good and bad things.
Lily looks over at me after a few moments, studying my face with more curiosity in her eyes. “You’re not lying to me about all this?”
I shake my head. “I wish I was, honestly.”
The candle on the table flickers. It’s been a cold spring, unlike the previous years, and this old mansion, renovated though it may be, doesn’t keep all the wind out. Every once in a while, some seeps through the cracks in the walls and puts a chill in me.
This evening, the cold is damp and oppressive. I could turn the heat up, but it would do nothing to counter the stray drafts of air from outside. The only thing that really helps is having someone to hold close to you, and that’s not something I’ve experienced in a long time.
Nor have I wanted to, considering the people around me. It’s impossible to trust a woman unless she’s from outside the Bratva, and if she isn’t, it’s exceedingly rare that she will ever make it into my house.
Tonight, someone has made it in, and I can’t stop thinking about what it would be like to have her body on top of mine when we go to bed.