35. Sandrine #2
I asked him if he’d been with anyone and he said no. He lied to me.
I tap open Tamara’s Instagram account from the convenient tag in the post I’m ready to cry over. A photo posted yesterday captures my attention. She’s sitting in a silk robe with something green on her face. Oh, it’s a facial mask. Even in green, sipping champagne, and smiling, she looks elegant.
I read the caption: Prepping for the wedding of the century.
Better not be to my fucking husband. Is that the dress she was shopping for?
The post is actually a carousel of photos with a collage of diamonds and palm trees. Enough to make me nauseous.
Digging further, I see she brags about not paying her share of a charter flight and how she will just go to the airport tomorrow, expecting the airline to accommodate her.
Talk about spoiled. I can’t see Kirill being attracted to this kind of woman and her behavior.
Something makes me read the comments. A bunch of bootlick followers praise her. For nothing. But my heart pounds, catching the convenient chastising of a @sassybrassy223 telling Tamara she better buy her charter ticket on…
She nicely lists the executive jet-based airline.
There are limited seats available.
Sassybrassy also reminds Tamara of the flight number and time of departure. Otherwise, Miss Chernova will have to fly commercial. And probably a budget one, since most top airlines sell out their flights to Miami from Midway every weekend.
“Limited seats available,” I utter to myself.
My pulse quickens with a devious thought. Interesting. Very interesting.
The driver’s voice pulls me out of my spiral. “Home, Madam Volkov?”
“No.” I keep scrolling. “Can you take me to Midway Executive?”
The driver glances at me in the mirror. My guard, who sits next to him, twists in the seat to look at me, too.
“The airport?” my guard says.
“Yes.”
They just look at each other, eyes blinking, lips moving in a silent conversation. “We need to contact the boss.”
I smile sweetly, prepared for that one. “Fine, if you want to spoil the surprise trip I want to book for us. Nice family getaway. To Miami. To console your pakhan for the loss of his father.”
They both look horrified, but when my guard nods, the driver shifts the car into gear, and we’re off.
Twenty minutes later, I’m standing inside a private terminal of the airline mentioned in the post, speaking to a woman named Brenda.
“Just to confirm,” Brenda says politely. “You would like to purchase all the remaining seats on tomorrow’s Miami charter?”
“Sure do.” I name-drop Sassybrassy from the comments, making Brenda think I’m part of their co-op group flight for this wedding.
Sassybrassy was nice enough to remind Tamara of the Group Code.
“For the entire flight?” Brenda’s jaw is still on the floor.
“How many seats are available?”
Brenda does some clicking. “Seventeen.”
I snort a laugh. Sassybrassy was gaslighting Tamara with the seats are limited scare tactic.
“Then, yes. All seventeen.”
Brenda blinks. “I’m going to need names and…”
When I hand over Kirill’s black card, she stares down at the name and then her eyes shoot back up at me. “No problem, Mrs. Volkov.”
Pulling at her company-issued scarf, Brenda starts the booking process, saying I can email her a manifest later.
“How convenient.” I fold my arms.
A beep on her console means the charge is approved. I smile, seeing the total I am signing for.
$425,000.
Despite the charge going through, my phone starts blowing up. I laugh. Kirill is right on cue. He notices everything. Especially his money.
Kirill: Where are you?
Me: Just running errands.
Three dots appear instantly.
Kirill: What ERRANDS?
Oooo. All caps.
Me: Stop stalking me.
Kirill: It’s my right. I’m your husband.
Me: Leave me alone, I’m busy.
Kirill: DOING WHAT?
I wait.
Kirill: Answer me!
Me: Stop asking vague questions.
The dots appear again.
Disappear.
Reappear.
Phones ring behind me, and I see my guard reaching for his mobile.
“Answer that, and you will regret it,” I say, my tone deadly.
Teeth gnashing, he drops his hand.
Kirill: Where is your guard? He’s not answering his phone. Did you get kidnapped? Are you in a trunk? Does someone have your credit card?
Me: Quite an imagination you have there.
Kidnapped! In a trunk.
I glance toward the guard, and he suddenly finds a plane at the next gate fascinating. “I know Ares Zervas is always looking for guards,” I whisper.
“Because they keep getting killed,” he mutters.
Good point.
Kirill: Wife!
Uh oh.
The ‘wife’ text. Those are dangerous, and I worry about who he’s with, who he will take out his rage on.
Me: Yes, husband? Do you have more questions?
Kirill: Why did you buy seventeen seats to Miami?
I signal for us to get back to the car. “I have to pick up Violet.”
Kirill: Where the fuck are you?
I grin, drop the phone into my purse and keep walking.
Then the phone rings. He’s so freaked he can’t type. I stare at it and smile wider.
“Can Mr. Volkov track my car?” I ask the driver when I get into the backseat.
“Yes,” the driver says. “And he can send a drone this way, too.”
“Weaponized ones,” the guard adds.
Yikes…
“Take me to Violet’s school.” I buckle myself in. “He’ll see that and calm down.”
I hope.
We cross town quickly, just in time to watch Violet skip out of the school’s main double doors. I smile as she changes the moment she spots my car. She breaks out into an all-out run toward it. Toward me. I get out, and she leaps into my arms.
“Mommy!” Her warm body feels so good.
I just needed this. And her father having his way with me at night. I hope I didn’t screw that up.
In the car, Violet chats about her day, the story the teacher read, and how a little girl named Emily, a new student, was crying to go home.
“She went into the bathroom and tried to flush her shoes down the toilet so they had to call her mommy and take her home.”
I hide a laugh and don’t want to encourage that behavior. But Violet loves school, and I doubt she’d try that.
“I went in there to make her feel better,” Violet adds.
This catches my attention. “You did? Where was your teacher?”
“Emily is my new best friend,” she says in her demanding little way. “She needed me. Like you needed me when you were sad.”
That freaking breaks my heart.
“I’m proud of you,” I say, holding her as close as I can in her booster seat. “You should help friends who need it.”
She goes on to tell me she didn’t like today’s snack, and that she’s sooooo hungry. Then she just turns toward the window and kicks her feet, watching the city pass us like she’s not a Bratva princess.
We reach our block, and when we turn into the driveway, my stomach drops seeing Kirill standing behind the gate. He tracked my car all right. Behind him are men. Lots of them.
My heart starts to pound. “What is that?”
“The entire brotherhood,” the driver says.
“We are so dead,” my guard mutters into his hand.
“No. I’ll tell Kirill I instructed you to take a detour.”
The guard and driver glare at each other, having some kind of conversation with their eyes. Maybe a death pact, sending Morse code messages to family members should only one of them make it out alive.
The gate to Iron Keep opens, and we drive through. Seeing Kirill standing there dressed in the clothes he wears at night to be pakhan and all his men behind him has me sweating, too.
“Mommy, why does Daddy look mad?” Violet asks.
Damn it. “He’s not mad,” I say to deflect. “He’s happy we’re home.”
“But he’s not smiling,” she counters.
Kirill’s daughter is brilliant and suspicious at the same time.
“The men who work for him need to think he’s serious all the time.”
“Oh,” she says and goes back to looking at her book.
The driver nods, making me think I caught on quick.
The car stops, and it’s Kirill who opens the door for us. On my side.
“Daddy! Me first,” Violet says, stretching her neck.
I raise an eyebrow at him. Before he can slam the door and then march to the other side, I hop out.
“She knows you’re mad,” I say to him, moving to open Violet’s door.
Kirill drops his hands. They even loosen from being tightly balled up. “I am mad.”
“So am I.”
“Why are you mad?” He makes it sound like it’s impossible for me to be annoyed because I’m not in a cell, handcuffed.
“Oh, I’ll tell you, husband.” I poke a finger in his chest. “I won’t be one of those silent, brooding wives. I worked to get this voice back, to get these legs to move. Something made me fall down a flight of stairs, and now I find out I was married to you at the same time.”
“Are you suggesting—”
“I’m getting my daughter into the house and settled. Be in our bedroom in ten minutes,” I order him.
“Do you have any idea who you’re talking to?”
“I’m talking to my husband,” I say over my shoulder. “You’re a husband and a father first, Kirill.”
“Hi, Daddy!” Violet says, waving to him as I steer her inside.
“Hello, solnyshko.”
“Mommy says I need to change first,” Violet responds, marching ahead into the house, embracing her discipline.
“Then you should listen to your mother,” Kirill says, his face softer.
All of this was so Violet would have a mother. Kirill just got the wife he didn’t expect in the bargain.
Violet beams at what I think is the greatest wisdom ever spoken. “I know.”
Then she skips ahead toward the house. I catch up and take her hand as we step into the suspiciously empty kitchen. Nadia appears from the mudroom, looking like I’m headed to the gallows. I ask her to prepare a bigger snack since Violet didn’t eat at school.
She nods and starts going through the pantry.
Violet runs to the stairs to change out of her uniform. I follow her, but she tears down the hall to her bedroom, not looking back at me. It’s like she trusts that I’m not going anywhere.
But… I’m in big trouble. I didn’t mean to dress Kirill down in front of the entire fucking brotherhood, but I will not let the Bratva think he married a weak woman. He does plenty to prove he still has his balls. I don’t get the same opportunities.