Chapter 6
VIKTOR
Ihaven’t been able to get Tati in that nightshirt out of my head. Standing there in front of me, lifting it up so I can see the crease of her thigh as it meets with her hips, hints of her pussy just out of sight, covered by nothing but the hem of her nightshirt.
The fact that she wasn’t even wearing underwear… It’s like she was there for the sole purpose of tempting me.
I’ve known her since she was a teenager, and never once have I had the kind of carnal thoughts I’ve been having lately about her. Seeing her once rounded face slimmed out to an oval, her big, puppy dog eyes now sultry and dark, that mischievous smile turned suggestive…
And that body. She went from twig to thoroughbred over the half-decade she’s been gone. It was a challenge not to notice her nipples pressing against her nightshirt and that perfectly round bottom…
They way she talked to me was different as well.
When she was a teenager, I knew she had a crush on me.
The way she’d blush every time I showed her even the smallest bit of attention.
How she’d run away and hide behind doors and walls to spy on me when I was around.
Little Tati was just a kid with a crush the last time I saw her.
But standing in that kitchen, I was talking to another person altogether.
Nikita’s annoying little sister was gone.
In her place was this beautiful thing standing before me in nothing but a nightshirt, her curly pink hair tied up in a messy ponytail.
And all the confidence of a grown woman hitting on me.
I wonder what might have happened if we had met somewhere else. A bar or a club. Somewhere there would be no one to tattle on me for reciprocating. If we hadn’t happened to be standing in the middle of Nikolai’s kitchen…
I’ve been debating the second part of that thought since it first appeared after I left.
Would I have taken advantage of the moment, the wrath of her father be damned?
It’s not like he wasn’t home. But even if that was the case, would I dare desecrate my Pakhan’s house by fucking his daughter in the kitchen?
I’m meeting with Yanov to discuss who should be chosen to accompany me to Nikolai’s niece’s wedding, but…
I also have some questions about Tati on my mind.
Questions that he would know best, other than Nikolai himself.
After all, he was the one who brought her back, or so it’s being said among the brigadiers.
I walk into the nearly empty coffee shop. The time between lunch and morning was always quiet in these places, especially on a weekday. But the smell of roasted coffee beans is still thick in the air. It hits me in the face the second I walk through the door.
The little shop is like every other place around here, a counter with a young barista behind it, bopping along to the music playing overheard. A chalkboard behind her with the specials written out in different colored chalk. The sound of hissing from the espresso machine.
I glance around at the little shop and all the empty tables and booths for Yanov and spot him through the window on the side of the building.
He’s sitting at one of the tables outside on the patio, a small cup of espresso in one hand as he looks out at the street, leaning back, legs crossed.
In his expensive suit, he looks the part of a gentleman enjoying a quiet morning at his favorite coffee haunt.
“Sir?” the barista behind the counter asks me. She pulls the earbuds out of her ears and smiles as she makes eye contact. “Can I help you?”
“Just a black coffee,” I say. “Can you bring it out to me on the patio?”
“Sure thing.”
I turn and walk the length of the room to the back door.
As soon as I open it, Yanov looks up at me and gives me a quick smile.
I’m a little thankful for that. He doesn’t have the kind of face that houses smiles or any pleasant emotions well.
Nicki used to say that he always looks like he’s snarling. I don’t disagree.
“I expected you to be here before me,” he says. “You’re usually so punctual.”
“Traffic.” I sit down across from him. “Thank you for meeting with me on such short notice.”
“It’s fine,” he says. The door opens behind me, and the waitress sets a ceramic cup with black liquid down in front of me. I thank her, and she blushes a little as she leaves.
Yanov shakes his head. “Your way of thanking a woman has always baffled me. Two words and they walk away blushing like schoolgirls. I know men who would kill to have a fraction of your charisma.”
“It’s not charisma, it’s just charm. Maybe mixed with a good set of social skills.” I drink from the cup and savor it for a moment. It’s good coffee.
“You must be the only byki I’ve ever known with such things,” he says dryly. “The job is usually much better done by sociopaths.”
I shrug. “Sociopaths are limited. I’m not. That’s why I’m good at what I do.”
He sighs like a bored socialite. “So, why are we meeting, Viktor? I assume all is well with Nikolai.”
Of course, he knows I met with him this morning. Very little gets by my boss’s best spy. “He is well,” I tell him. “I was hoping you knew which of the boeviks might be free for a night in a couple of weeks for some security work.”
He thinks for a second, then nods his head from side to side noncommittally. “I may know a few who might fit the bill. I assume this is for Nikolai’s niece’s wedding?”
“It is,” I tell him.
“Hmm. I’ll have some names for you before the week is out.”
“Thank you.”
He sips his coffee and smirks at me, setting the cup down on the table. “You didn’t want to meet with me just to ask about that, though, did you?”
“You see right through me,” I say, returning his smirk.
A breeze picks up as if trying to warn me, or perhaps encourage me. It disturbs a few strands on Yanov’s head. “What else brings you to me?”
“Nikolai’s daughter,” I say. “Tatiana. I’m curious about her.”
He raises an eyebrow and his smile drops a fraction. “Curious?”
“Not that kind of curious. I’ve heard a few things floating around about her. I’m interested in knowing if any of it was true.”
He snickers and sips his espresso. “The Bratva Rumor Mill,” he says. “If all of you worked as much as you gossiped, we’d all be much richer than this.”
“This isn’t gossip. This is closer to… reconnaissance. Last any of us heard, she went away to school in Europe. Now, it’s being said that she was dragged back from overseas after prostituting herself.”
Yanov scoffs. “You are fortunate that this rumor hasn’t reached Nikolai. He’d have your head just for suggesting such a thing.”
“I realize that,” I say as I take a sip of my coffee. “Which is why I’m asking you about it and not him.”
Yanov sighs hard as if he’d been carrying a large load on his back.
“You know, when his daughter was a teenager, I thought she was a handful then. Always wearing skirts that were too short or shirts that showed too much cleavage. That year she got the nose ring nearly sent Nikolai through the roof.”
“I remember.”
“It was like she got a rise out of aggravating every man she came across, especially her father. These rumors about her virtue aren’t new, as I’m sure you’re probably aware.”
I frown a little. I’m not. Perhaps because I was so close to Nikita. Nobody would dare say a word out of turn about him or Tati around me.
“Despite all that,” he continues, “much of what people have heard is mostly unfounded. All things considered, Tatiana was a fairly normal teenager before she left for Europe. And she grew into a normal young woman throughout her time in school. And then three years into her tenure, for reasons that even I don’t know, Tatiana decided that she’d had enough of college left and left London.
We didn’t find out she’d dropped out for about a year and a half.
The school contacted Nikolai about a supposed ‘gap year’ that she’d taken. He hit the roof.”
I grunt in acknowledgement. I can picture Nikolai spitting fire over something like this.
“I spent the following year and a half after that scouring Europe for her, using every resource and connection we have,” he says. He crosses his arms and scowls a little as if it were his money out of his pocket that he had to spend. “Finally found her in Amsterdam. Stripping for money.”
I raise my eyebrows. “Stripping?”
He nods. “As far as I know, that’s as far as it went. Despite the suggestion that she sold herself for money, all she did was take her clothes off for it. I suppose that means she still has some morals.”
I take that in for a moment. Her change in hair color, the overtly sexual nature of her advances. I guess she was right. She did get an education overseas, after all.
“I must ask again,” Yanov says, “why the curiosity about her?”
“My answer has not changed.”
He nods, then lifts his cup and finishes the espresso. “Let me give you a piece of advice, Viktor. In all situations, the daughter of a Pakhan is never an option. She is always off limits. To all of us. Even with his permission. It’s much too dangerous a thing to even consider pursuing.”
“My interest in her is strictly business,” I tell him, “other than to clear up the vile rumors that are being spread about her. I think we can agree that Nikolai wouldn’t be happy to hear that half his people think his daughter is a slut.”
“No,” he says, narrowing his eyes a little at me. “I suppose you have a point. Do you propose we inform him?”
“And have him lay waste to half of our forces?” I say. “Of course not. I will address the issue privately to any who spread the rumor.”
“That is wise, I think.” He pulls out his phone and looks at it, then shoves it back in his jacket. “Now, if that’s all, I have to take my leave. I have another engagement.”
“Right. Thank you for handling the security issue.”
He gives me a one-sided smile that makes his stone features look like hot lava has been applied to make them bend. “Of course.”
He leaves, and I stay long enough to finish my coffee. As I walk out, I nearly run into a woman on the street. All I see is rainbow colored hair as she collides with me and papers as they flap from inside the gray binder she’s holding. It clatters to the ground, but she remains standing.
“Excuse me,” she says quickly and bends down to grab the binder and the few papers that flew out of it.
“No, excuse me. Let me help—”
“No, I’ve got it. I’ve…” She pauses long enough to look at me… and I realize I know her.
It’s Marla. Marla Chekov. She’s a little thinner and her shining blue eyes have dulled over time, but it’s her, the same cat-like face and rainbow-tinted hair. Her eyes get large as she stands up.
“Viktor.” She almost whispers it like she just spotted the boogeyman. “Um. Hi.”
“Hi,” I say with a laugh. “It’s been a long time.”
She nods quickly. “At least a couple of years. We were both at that charity thing Teddy hosted—”
“The Leukemia Ride,” I say with a nod. “Right, right. Guess it hasn’t been as long as I thought. So, how’ve you been?”
She shrugs, her arms clutching the binder securely to her chest. “Okay,” she says. “Still working for Miller and Brownston.”
“Ah, yes. The exciting world of accounting. I guess nothing ever really changes, hmm?”
“No,” she says, her friendly smile dipping slightly. “I guess it doesn’t.”
My heart still aches for her. Nikita’s love for her was like nothing I’ve ever seen.
If there were a way for him to move mountains just for her happiness, he would have gladly done it.
“It’s good to see you’re okay after all this time,” I say.
“My offer still stands, you know. If there’s anything on earth that you need, I’m a phone call away. ”
The friendly facade falters almost completely and she nods, her smile turning bitter.
“Thank you,” she says. “You know, Nicki… he really loved you. For all intents and purposes, you were his brother. Half the time he talked about you, he quoted that phrase that went, ‘The blood of the covenant is’…um…”
“‘Is thicker than the water of the womb’,” I finish. “Yeah, he delighted in the fact that I’d been misquoting that for years. Nicki liked it when he knew something I didn’t.”
She nods, her smile turning gentle. “That was him, all right.” She sighs and looks around herself. “I’d better get going. I’m late for an appointment.”
“Okay. Take care.”
She walks away, and my heart dips into my stomach.
I have heard that Marla has stayed single all this time, rebuffing advances like it’s a sport.
It’s sad, really. Or, I don’t know, maybe it’s just a testament to her eternal loyalty to him.
It’s rare to see among Bratva and their lovers.
Loyalty, real loyalty, isn’t the kind of thing that comes along every day.
Still… I’d always hoped that Marla found someone. I think Nikita would have wanted that for her.
I start to walk away and I catch sight of Yanov across the street, watching her as she walks off. I thought he’d left already. He has his phone pressed against his face, but he’s watching her and does so until she gets in her car, then he disappears in his car.
It’s an unnerving sight… but probably nothing to be concerned about. Yanov’s job is to keep tabs on us all. I suppose that doesn’t change just because your Bratva boyfriend dies.
I leave and put it out of my mind as much as I can. The truth of the whole thing is that I miss Nikita. He was the last and only person I trusted implicitly. Now, there’s no one to have my back but me. Marla is just a reminder of that.