Chapter 19 - Avraam
I push my breakfast plate away from myself and sigh with contentment. It’s Saturday and for the first time in a long time, I don’t have anything booked.
Across the table, Ruslana is still enjoying her scrambled egg.
I watch her with fascination, and a tenderness growing in my heart.
What is going to happen when her brothers take her back?
She has become a part of my life—my home feels right with her in it.
I can’t imagine being here without her.
My jaw clenches with worry. There is no point stressing over things that haven’t happened yet. However, I know it’s coming.
I know I will have to face it one day.
My phone buzzes in my pocket and I shift my position to drag it out.
I don’t recognize the number.
My stomach knots with tension.
“Hello,” I say, my throat suddenly dry.
“Avraam, my name is Rodion Kuznetsov and I believe you have my sister held captive at your mansion.”
I swallow hard, my eyes on Ruslana.
I don’t want her to know that her brother is on the other side of this call.
Standing up, I throw her a smile which I hope looks reassuring and not psychotic. The panic running through me might be reflected on my face.
But she doesn’t seem to notice, and grins then returns her attention to her breakfast.
I walk quickly from the room.
“Rodion. I was wondering when you would call. Why did it take you so long?”
“I called as soon as I found out,” he snaps. “I want to talk to my sister. Where is Ruslana? Have you hurt her in any way?”
“You don’t get to make demands, Rodion. Before you speak to your sister you need to atone for the deaths of my men. There was no reason to kill them. Six men lost their lives because of you and until you have paid for that—your sister will remain out of your reach.”
I am furious about what they did to my men—but I am also grasping for anything—any reason to keep Ruslana with me.
“What are you talking about?” Rodion snaps.
“The attack at my warehouse, and the first attack. You used force that was not fair or necessary.” I shouldn’t have to explain myself. I don’t even know why I’m doing it.
“What attack?” Rodion asks, sounding deeply confused.
What the fuck is going on? Is he playing me?
He’s fucking denying what he did. That makes me even more angry.
“At least take responsibility, Rodion. Those men died at your hand and you want to treat their lives as though they are meaningless.”
“Avraam—I honestly have no idea what you are talking about. We didn’t attack you or your men. I just want my sister back, unharmed.”
I shake my head, frustration surging.
How can I talk to a man who is willing to lie so blatantly?
“Avraam—what the hell is going on?“
I hang up the phone.
My head is spinning.
If he wants to play games then I will play games too.
When he is ready to accept responsibility then we can talk. Until then, I have nothing to say to him.
But as I slide my phone back into my pocket, a memory plays in my mind.
I was so sure that Ruslana was guilty—and I was wrong.
Now I am not so sure that her brothers are guilty—what if I am wrong about this too? There is no evidence against them. We found nothing.
Ruslana is so convinced they didn’t do it she begged me to investigate.
Are the Kuznetsovs telling the truth—did they have nothing to do with what happened to my men—or—am I just becoming soft because I am too attached to Ruslana?
I pace for a moment, trying to shake the tension created by the call.
Ruslana will pick up on it and ask me what is going on.
I don’t want to tell her—but I also don’t want to lie to her.
If she doesn’t ask, I don’t have to say anything.
“What do you want to do today?” I ask as I walk into the dining room. She is busy gathering the empty plates to carry them to the kitchen, so I immediately start helping her with that. Anything to stay busy and avoid giving away the anxiety I feel.
“Mm. Every month, on the last weekend of the month, there is a market held in the park—the one right in the city center. They have interesting little things to look at and some amazing foods. We can roam a bit and have lunch there—if you like?”
“That sounds perfect,” I smile, taking the plates from her and adding them to what I’m carrying. “Why don’t you go get ready?”
Ruslana goes upstairs and I drop the dishes off in the kitchen.
How am I going to get through an entire day without letting her know what’s worrying me?
I message Dex.
Me: Rodion Kuznetsov has made contact. He denies any involvement in the attacks. Have you found any evidence yet? Please, get back to me urgently.
Dex: I’ll check in with everyone now and see if there is any new information.
***
Ruslana looks beautiful. We are roaming the park and wandering from stall to stall. She brightens up as she admires little trinkets and handmade items. Her long, flowing white dress catches the soft breeze every now and then and I stare at her for too long, wondering what she would look like in a real wedding dress.
“Oh my goodness, you have to taste this,” she grins, lifting a piece of cake to my mouth. I bite into it and salted caramel flavors spread across my tongue. “Wow,” I mutter.
“It’s so good. I’m definitely getting some to have at home,” she declares, ordering two slices in a takeaway box.
A genuine smile touches my lips, thinking about how she refers to my place as home. I would love for her to live with me.
Her energy is infectious. She has this beautiful sense of happiness around her. Everyone she speaks to at the market brightens in her presence.
I brighten in her presence.
I don’t feel like myself when I’m around her—I feel like someone better than me.
And that makes me want to be better for her.
I shake the thought from my mind as she slips her hand in mine and pulls me to the next stall.
All afternoon we walk together enjoying a slow day. Warm sunshine splashing down on us. The scent of fresh-cut grass and tall trees drifting on the breeze.
Ruslana is carrying two big brown paper shopping bags and looking thrilled about it. She has freshly roasted coffee beans, salted caramel cake, lavender bath salts, body lotions, candles and new, handmade coffee mugs which she thinks will look great in the kitchen.
She gets so excited about the little things that I end up getting excited about them too.
The sun is dipping lower on the horizon and she says, “Let’s go home, make some fresh coffee in our new mugs and eat salted caramel cake out in the garden.”
“That sounds absolutely perfect,” I agree. And it does. It sounds like the way I would want to end every day—with her by my side.
At home, Ruslana rushes to the kitchen just as my phone starts ringing.
“I’ll be right there,” I call after her, stopping in the foyer to answer the call in private.
“Royce, what can I do for you?”
“Sir, we have the evidence we need. Everything points to the Kuznetsovs.”
“Dex said—“
“Dex told me that he denied it—the leader of the family—but he was lying to you. The evidence is clear.”
“You are sure about this ? One hundred percent sure?”
“Yes, sir,” Royce says seriously.
“Fuck. Ok. Well, at least we know now.”
The call ends and I stand quietly, feeling a heavy weight settle over my shoulders.
I was waiting for evidence and now we have it.
My men have found something that ties her brothers to the attacks—I have no choice but to tell her. And I think she is going to be heartbroken to hear the news.
She has such incredible faith in her family—this is going to hurt her.
I decide that I will wait until the end of the day. When we go to bed and things are quiet I will tell her then. That way we can still enjoy her new coffee mugs, and the cake, and watch the sunset together. I don’t want to take that moment away from her because she looks so happy about it all.
But I can’t keep this from her for longer than that. It won’t be fair of me so I will be telling her tonight.
“Hey, come on, stop getting distracted,” she peeks around the corner and grins at me.
“I am on my way,” I smile back, pushing everything else aside and leaving it alone until I need to face it again.
In the kitchen, she has washed our mugs and has already ground the coffee beans. She hands me a dishcloth. “Dry those. And then you can also find some plates for our cake. But they need to match the mugs.”
I chuckle, “Of course, they obviously need to match. I wouldn’t dream of it being any other way.”
She playfully punches me in the arm, “Don’t tease me.”
I grab her around the waist and pull her against me.
“I love teasing you,” I smirk, then press my lips against hers and savor a gentle kiss before she pulls away and shoots me playful glare.
Bright orange streaks spread across the sky, in between pink and darkening purple splashes, as the sun sinks even lower, almost touching the horizon.
“Wow, this is gorgeous,” she says, leaning her head against my shoulder.
I look down at her, hardly paying attention to the beauty of the sunset because I want to enjoy her beauty for as long as I have it. And I don’t know how much longer that will be.
I have no idea how to deal with the issue of her brothers.
Wrapping my arm around her shoulder I sit quietly with her, until the sky grows dark and it’s time for bed.
She wiggles in my arms, snuggling closer to me.
“I wasn’t allowed to eat any kind of gummy candy when I was growing up,” she laughs. “After my brother caught me squishing chewed up bits between the sofa pillows, he banned me from having it.”
I crack up laughing, “So, you were a nightmare to take care of.”
“Yes, I know I was. My brothers did a good job though. They took care of me. One summer, we all went to the local swimming pool, but it wasn’t really warm enough to swim yet and my brothers decided it was better to come back another day. I bolted away from them and jumped into the pool, determined not to go home without a swim. It was so cold I panicked and breathed in a lung full of water. Two of my brothers had to jump in after me. They helped me out and both were furious and shivering. I never do what I’m told—and they still love me. They do everything for me.”
She is chatting away about her childhood and what it was like to grow up with her brothers. She is sharing intimate memories and I’m drawn into every story, enjoying hearing about her life.
The more she talks, the less inclined I am to tell her about the evidence my men say they have against her family.
This moment with her is too special. I don’t want to ruin it.
“Where did you grow up?” she asks, glancing up at me, her eyes bright with curiosity.
And to my surprise, I find myself telling her something I have kept a secret for my entire life as a mafia boss—I tell her about my sister.
“I grew up not too far from the shopping district in town. My sister and I used to play in those streets.”
“You haven’t mentioned your sister once. And you don’t have photos of her anywhere—is she—where is she?”
“I keep my sister a secret. I don’t want anyone to be able to use her against me. She is not a tool, she is a beautiful, incredible person who deserves to live free of the choices that I made. My lifestyle isn’t her fault, and I don’t want to drag her into it. So—no one knows about her.”
“No one?” Ruslana asks in shock.
“No one,” I shrug.
She goes quiet for a moment, then snuggles back against my shoulder. “I will keep your secret, Avraam. Thank you for sharing that with me. Tell me about her. Was she a terror like I was to my brothers?”
I laugh, remembering pieces of my childhood and sharing the stories with Ruslana until late into the night.
We talk until we are both exhausted, and she falls asleep wrapped up in my arms—where I always want her to be.