Chapter Five
Lauren
Father swipes a flute of champagne from one of the servers, indulging in the experience.
I resist the urge to roll my eyes and continue watching him as he meanders around the courtyard looking for another person to talk to. It doesn’t make sense. These people killed his wife, my mother. Why is he shaking their hands and giving them fake smiles? He shouldn’t even be here to begin with.
“They’re leaving soon,” says a guest, appearing out of nowhere. “Red-eye to Santorini.”
Shit.
Sophia’s flying out already?
Looks like my father will have to wait. If I want to talk to my bestie before she takes off to her honeymoon, it’s now or never.
I locate her in the crowd again—a simple task. She’s the only one wearing glittering diamonds, and the sea of criminals parts around her every time she takes a step like she’s royalty. I suppose she is now.
She finishes up a conversation with a guest and moves to the dessert table. My own stomach rumbles at the sight. A five-tiered wedding cake sits in the middle. Around it are smaller plates of desserts. Macarons. Chocolate-coated strawberries.
I advance forward and tug on her dress. She whips around just as she’s about to pop a chocolate strawberry in her mouth.
“Lauren? What are you—?”
“Chop that up first. I’d hate for you to ruin your lipstick on your big day.” I exhale and smooth my dress at my sides. “I just want to talk.”
Hesitation flashes across her face, and she looks over her shoulder, unsure. We exchange a long look before she nods, dragging me away from the courtyard, into a private hallway separated from the reception. She guides me away from the veranda so that we’re against the wall.
“Why?” The question flies off my tongue. “Why would you do this?” Her shoulders sag. “Why would you get involved with them?” I press.
She exhales, and looks at me with those doe-like brown eyes. The makeup artist knew what they were doing, enhancing her hazel eyes with a pink, blended eyeshadow. She looks beautiful. And for some reason, it breaks my heart even more.
“My life,” she begins, “is more complicated than you think.”
“You know you can tell me anything.”
“I know.”
“Then tell me how it’s complicated.” I soften my voice, realizing I’m coming off too sharp. “You know I’m here for you, Soph.”
“I… You’ve always had it easy, Lauren. You wouldn’t understand.”
“Try me.”
She relaxes her shoulders and stares at me for a moment.
“Things with my family haven’t been the best recently.
We’ve been struggling a lot, like, financially.
You know what my father is like. He’s always been a bit of a loose cannon when it comes to the slot machines.
The debts keep piling up, and Mom is struggling to pay for the damage.
We needed a way out, and the Rogov syndicate offered to help. ”
“Is this what they call help?” I fold my arms. It’s common knowledge those bastards are always chasing something in return. Favors are never given out of the kindness of their hearts. I grab her hand. “You could’ve come to me. I would have helped you-given you whatever you need.”
Sophia shakes her head. “I appreciate it, but you know I could never ask you for that.”
I stare at her a moment longer, trying to wrap my head around this and decide whether I’m annoyed, sad, or both. She should’ve come to me as my best friend, but also, I know she would’ve felt bad. She’s always had that in her.
Back in high school, I once paid for her lunch and she felt guilty the whole day, saying how it was embarrassing that she couldn’t afford it herself; how she hates to feel like a charity case.
Money, for the people who don’t have it, can be a sensitive matter, and I can understand that.
It doesn’t buy happiness, but it does pay the bills, and if Sophia’s mom can’t even afford to do that anymore because of her gambling-addicted husband, I feel sorry for both of them.
Timur Gusev and Nikolai Rogov’s syndicate have so much money that they’re practically sweating out bucks.
“Okay.” I close the gap between us and bring her into a hug.
“I’m sorry, Soph.” I nestle my head in her shoulder, and it feels like we’re in high school again.
The gambling issues with her father always brought arguments to her dinner table, and she always came to school the next morning upset.
All she wants is peace and financial freedom.
“Look.” I pull away and look into her eyes. “I get it. You’re a grown woman. But you don’t have to do this. You know I have savings. I’ll give you whatever you need to be done with this, okay? Any time you change your mind, you come to me, okay?”
She nods. “Thanks Lau.”
“What do they want in return? We both know that these Russians don’t give favors just because they’re feeling generous. What is it?” I feel like hurling at the thought. “Not sex. Oh my god, Sophia, please don’t tell me it’s—”
“Relax. Timur wants me to take care of his sick father and be his personal nutritionist.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s it.” She exhales again. “I’m okay, Lau, seriously. I appreciate the concern, but it could be a lot worse. This is life. Sometimes you have to make sacrifices.”
Sacrifices.
It seems like we’re all sacrificing our freedom for men these days.
I work at my father’s investment company, walking down the very same path that he laid out for me ever since infancy, and Sophia has been married off to Timur Gusev, who might well be the man who killed my mom.
And now, Sophia, my best friend, my ride-or-die is tied to this man.
I grit my teeth and force down the tears as I think about it.
But what am I supposed to say to her that I haven’t already said?
Maybe she’ll change her mind when she gets back from her honeymoon.
And when she does, I’ll be there for her.
“Do you know what my father’s doing here?” I change the subject. “I saw him shaking hands with Timur earlier.” The word “Timur” feels heavy as it rolls off my tongue.
Sophia frowns. “No, but most people here are associates of the Rogov Bratva. Maybe he doesn’t quite realize who these people really are.”
“Maybe…” I say absentmindedly, unconvinced. Business owners like him have to be smart. I know who my father is. I’ve seen some of his financial records. Sometimes he earns up to twenty grand in a day. People who blindly turn up to Bratva weddings don’t make that sort of income legitimately.
I hope Sophia is right.
But I have a feeling she isn’t.
“I’ll go speak to him.”
“Just be careful,” says Sophia.
“He’s my father,” I say. “I’m always careful.” I pull her into another hug, this one tighter than the last. “Enjoy the honeymoon, babe. Or try to, at least.”
“Santorini, Lau,” she says with a grin on her face. “It’s been my dream. He asked me where I wanted to go, and I said Greece. The next day, the tickets were bought.”
I don’t really know what to say to her. I’m happy she gets to visit her dream destination, but what’s the point if it’s paid for by blood money? At least one good thing has come out of all of this—Sophia is no longer restricted financially, and can go wherever her heart desires.
As long as Timur gives permission first.
I want to feel happy for her and I press a hand to my heart to try, but I can’t. I don’t trust Timur or Nikolai or the Rogov Bratva one bit. I just hope all of these luxurious getaways won’t come at a cost to Sophia’s own sanity.
I force a smile at her and keep my opinion to myself. “Have the best time, Soph. I’ll miss you so much. And remember,” I say. “You only owe him what you agreed. You don’t need to sleep with him just because you’re married.”
She nods and smiles. “Thanks Lau. Thanks for understanding.”
I wave her goodbye and go find my father before my mouth gets me into trouble again. I wonder why he chose burgundy tonight—the color of dried blood. Could this be some strange foreshadowing? Is he trying to get in with the Rogov syndicate? Or is he already involved with them somehow?
The crowds have thinned since I last walked through the courtyard.
The dessert table is almost empty and I wander over to help myself to a slab of pre-cut cake, balancing it on a paper plate.
I don’t know where Nikolai Rogov is. He’s not here, anyway.
If he were, I’d be able to scout him out in seconds—he’s taller than everybody else here, and people act all rigid in his presence.
Even the security guard did earlier before he escorted me out.
I survey the crowds, and that’s when I see Father enjoying another flute of champagne. In his other hand are two chocolate strawberries.
I take a big bite out of the cake and weave through the crowds until I’m close enough for him to recognize me.
“Lauren? What are you doing here?” Surprise lifts his graying brows.
“It’s my best friend’s wedding. I should be asking you that question.” I tilt my head. “Do you have any idea who these people are?”
He looks nervously over each shoulder and then closes the gap between us like he’s about to drop the world’s most shocking secret. “I’m here on business.”
I cross my arms. “What business? The kind that got Mom killed?”
His green eyes narrow and a dark expression takes over his face. He stands like that for a moment, staring like he’s trying to warn me about something. Then, he straightens his shoulders. “I know what I’m doing and the last thing I need is you coming here to lecture me.”
There’s my father for you. I neutralize my facial features, but inside, my heart feels like it’s going a thousand miles an hour.
He’s lying. Or withholding something, at least. It’s no coincidence that he’s here.
‘Business’ is the excuse he uses for everything he does, and I’ve had enough of his flaky excuses.
He tosses the word around like it’s a plausible answer to every question, when it’s clear he’s trying to hide something from me.
“What are you doing today?”
“Business.”
“Where are you going?”
“Business.”
“Why are you setting up a meeting with a wall street investor that has just been charged for embezzlement?”
“Business.”
It’s about the extent of his personality, to be honest. I’m his daughter and also his colleague. I shouldn’t be kept in the dark about his things. But I am. And knowing some of his track record, he’s only giving me more reasons not to trust him.
“I’ll call a car for you,” he says. “You can stay at my hotel.”
“I have my own car and hotel.”
He watches me for a moment longer, green eyes staring deep into my soul. I take it as a sign that he’s done talking to me. He always does that. So, I stick up my hand to wave him a curt goodbye. It’s not like I can get anything out of him.
I’m done with this place anyway.
On my way out, I scan the surroundings one more time to see if Nikolai Rogov has come back outside. I don’t know what I’d say to him if I saw him, but I’m sure I’d think of something snappy on the spot.
But he’s nowhere to be found.
And I don’t know why that stings.
***
Back at my hotel room, I sit at the dresser and bring my laptop to me.
I was so panicked about Sophia’s wedding that I even forgot to close the lid before I left. Typing in the password, I unlock the device and navigate to the company server, which requires another password.
Access granted.
I pull the computer closer to my body, ready to investigate what my father is up to. There are thousands of files on here that he doesn’t realize I have access to. He thinks I stay away from his servers, but I’ve learned to be stealthy and cross-examine files when I need to.
Most of the time, I don’t get too far with it.
There are too many company names and nuanced things that usually lead me to a dead end. But I’ve never been the type to give up easily.
I pull up the history of his private financial records and read the screen until something jumps out at me. A name. There have been some recent transfers to an offshore company called Sentinel International.
I’ve never heard the name before. Why haven’t I heard that name before? And why is my father transferring thousands at a time to their account? People use offshore companies when they want to keep something private. They also offer other benefits, like lower tax rates, sometimes no tax at all.
It’s fishy, either way.
“What the hell are you doing, Dad?” I mutter.
Besides, what about Nikolai Rogov? Sure, the man is a notorious criminal, but why would he lie to me about my mom’s death?
What’s in it for him? And if by some miracle he’s telling the truth about Timur not being responsible for Mom’s murder, then who was it?
And why was Timur there when it happened?
Dammit!
Right now, there are more questions than answers. But I know one thing for sure.
I won’t stop until I know the whole truth.