Chapter 29
NINA
Art looks like he could crush something with his bare hands right now.
I shoot a glance at him and raise my eyebrows, but he doesn't clarify. Sure, there have been a lot of weddings in his family recently, but I don't understand why the news about Valentin’s engagement has gotten so deep under his skin.
“Congratulations to you both.” I raise my glass of champagne and try to smooth over the awkward silence.
Valentin and Karolina are both close friends of Art’s, but he's looking at them as though they’ve just stolen his inheritance. He doesn’t raise his glass.
Karolina gives a tinkling laugh. “It’ll be a challenge to wrangle this one into married life, but I think I’m more than capable.”
She jabs Valentin in the ribs, but he doesn’t respond either, too busy locked in a murderous staring contest with Art.
A small voice in the back of my head wonders if this is jealousy. Maybe Art did have something with Karolina, after all. She is stunning, tall and blonde, and they’d make a beautiful couple. Their babies would be Russian supermodels who grew up to be six-feet tall.
If not Karolina, why would this engagement be bothering him so much?
“Valentin.” Art’s voice is clipped and urgent, his face stormy. He doesn’t so much as glance in my direction. “Can I see you in my office?”
He’s already taking Valentin away by the arm, physically dragging him away from his new fiancée. From the look on Valentin’s face, his grip isn’t gentle, either.
I watch them go, confusion raging through me. This has to be about Karolina.
But when I look up at her, her perfect face is serene. She rolls her eyes at me and tosses her hair over her toned shoulders.
“So damn immature, aren’t they? Like children, fighting over their grandmother’s approval.” Her eyes flash with amusement and she leans down. “I might be marrying Valentin, but my money’s on Artyom.”
I wish I could play along and pretend that I’m in on the joke too, but I have no idea what she’s trying to say. “What was that all about?”
She quirks an eyebrow. “You’ve never seen this side of him before, have you? Artyom can be a monster when there’s power involved.”
I swallow my pride and just ask her. “Was it about… you? Is Art jealous?”
“Oh my God, no.” Karolina’s graceful hand flies to her mouth, and she tilts her head back and laughs. “Honey, I’ve never seen him so far gone for someone. The past five years he’s had eyes for no one else.”
“Then, what’s going on? He loves Valentin.”
“Yes, but he didn't think that Valentin was going to take Vanya up on her challenge.” She raises her eyebrows at me significantly and leans forward, as though I should know what that means. “I imagine he’s furious.”
Art isn’t known for being hot-headed. I can’t think what would make him furious with his favorite cousin.
Karolina is looking at me as though she’s waiting for something to click. Instead, I’m scrambling to keep up.
“Vanya’s challenge? What challenge?”
Karolina's purses her shiny red lips. “You mean, you don't know?”
I shake my head. Her mouth drops open. “That bastard.” Her blue eyes are wide and almost sympathetic. “He really should have told you.”
Now I feel like an idiot.
“Obviously, he didn’t.” I take another sip of my champagne. “Enlighten me.”
Karolina takes me over to the side of the ballroom, sitting down on the red velvet armchairs. When she takes a seat, she neatly arranges her cream skirt so that it doesn’t crinkle, and sits with her back ramrod straight.
I slump into the chair, relieved to take the weight off the stiletto heels I’m not used to wearing. Even though I’m standing up all day at Middlefield, at least I can choose my comfiest sneakers. Six-inch stilettos are a special kind of torture.
Karolina takes a sip of her martini and starts to explain. “You know that Art is likely to be the next leader of the Petrovs. Taking over Vanya’s seat on the Council of the Bratva.”
I nod. I don't fully understand the family business, but I know enough to know that he has been preparing to take over from Vanya for most of his life. “He’s been waiting for years.”
Karolina nods, her mouth twisting. “Everyone thought she would announce him as the successor earlier in the year, at her 90th birthday. But she didn’t. It was awkward.”
Art used to talk about being leader as though it were a foregone conclusion. Lately, he’s barely mentioned it at all. I wonder if this is why. I take another gulp of champagne.
“Okay, so what does that mean? He has to wait longer?”
“It was significant, Nina. Embarrassing for Art.
Instead of announcing him as her successor, she gave a big, long speech about the history of the family and how she couldn't have taken on the leadership alone, how she would be nothing if it weren't for her husband Vassily. It was all working up to her big announcement. She would stay in charge for another year, and anyone who was serious about the leadership would need to be married by then.”
A chill slides down my spine.
If Vanya made marriage a condition for the leadership, that changes everything. That would mean that everything Art has done over the past few months was in the service of his own leadership ambitions.
Everything, including marrying me. Including accepting Ava.
I set down my champagne glass with a clink.
“When? When was this?”
“In November.”
Just before Art showed up at the hospital. Just before he decided to strong-arm his way back into our lives.
A rock lodges itself in the bottom of my stomach. This wasn’t love. This wasn’t even obsession. This was another pathway for Art to get to power. A step on the fucked-up career ladder within the bratva.
An instruction from his freaking grandmother.
Karolina continues, but I’m barely listening anymore.
“You should have seen Art’s face at the birthday. He didn't make a big deal out of it, he's far too diplomatic for that, but I've never seen him so surprised. And I’ve seen him fall for Boris’s trip wires many, many times when we were children. This was so much better.”
The ulterior motive.
I knew Art wouldn’t lift a finger unless there was something in it for him.
Karolina’s pretty eyes widen, raking over my face.
“Oh Nina.” She lifts a hand to her mouth. “You really didn't know any of this, did you? He didn't tell you?”
I’m already rising to my feet, kicking off the stupid stilettos and walking across the ballroom in just my stockings.
“He did not tell me. And he's gonna pay for it.”
I don’t wait for her reaction, but to my surprise, she calls after me: “Get him, Nina.”
I might be a little too tipsy to have a conversation like this, but he is not getting away with this.
I shove my way through the throngs of people in the ballroom before slipping into the quiet of the labyrinthine corridors of the Estate.
One thing’s for sure. If Art has used me and Ava to get power, he's never going to hear the end of it.
I storm into Art’s study. It’s dimly lit, as always, but I could make out exactly what’s happening without looking, just from the low curses and thuds.
I don't know what I expected.
A conversation over whiskey, maybe. Some arguing. Raised voices.
Art physically wrestling Valentin to the ground, busting his nose with a punch, was not on the list.
I am more than willing to add to the chaos. Who cares if I'm interrupting them? I am propelled by nothing but rage.
“Artyom Petrov,” I yell.
They don’t respond, Valentin silently taking a beating as Art gains the upper hand.
I swipe a letter opener from the desk as I approach them.
They don’t notice me. Don’t listen to my yelling.
Until I press the blade of the letter opener to the side of Art’s neck.
Then, I have their attention.
“Tell me, dear husband, why have you been lying to me?”
He gasps in shock and releases Valentin's collar. His cousin takes the opportunity to scramble backwards, away from Art. His face is bloodied and swollen, his lip split, blood staining his white shirt, whereas Art look as unruffled as ever.
When his mismatched eyes flicker to mine, I see that beneath his calm facade, he’s scrambling. He hasn’t got an excuse for this. He didn’t think I’d find out.
“Looks like you have something more important to deal with,” says Valentin, dusting himself off. Neither of us pay him any attention.
The door clicks shut as he leaves.
With the light from the hallway gone, we’re bathed in a dim, blue light, the moon outside the only illumination.
“Nenoka, why are you threatening to stab me again?”
“Because you lied to me.”
“About what?”
“Wrong fucking question.” I pressed the letter opener against his neck until it draws a shallow stream of blood. “If there are so many things you’re lying to me about, why don’t you guess which one?”
He falls silent. That’s wise.
“Go on.”
Art takes a deep breath, his throat bobbing. The blade of the letter opener nicks his throat again.
“You’re clearly mad about something.”
“True. Well done, Einstein.” I don’t move an inch.
“Why don’t we talk about this calmly?”
“Oh, I’m very calm. In the perfect headspace for a conversation, actually.”
It’s satisfying, watching Art’s throat bob. Making him nervous for once.
“Want to give me a clue what’s set you off?”
“Maybe I was curious about why my husband was angry that his cousin was marrying one of his closest friends.”
“You asked Karolina.”
“I did.”
I feel Art tense, but I don’t release him. I leave him trapped there, the letter opener pressed against the back of his neck.
“And she told you about Vanya’s birthday.“
“Yes.” I drop the knife from his neck and walk around to face Artyom. He gets to his feet, slowly, his eyes still on the knife in my hand. “Tell me, husband. Is that why you decided you wanted to be a part of mine and Ava’s life? So you could win some kind of rivalry with your cousins?”
“It’s not like that.”
“It seems exactly like that.”
Art falls silent.
“If you can’t explain this to me, I don’t think I can do this. Because right now it seems like I’ve been left in the dark about the reason you married me.”