10. Nothing Personal
NOTHING PERSONAL
Itilt my head back, staring at the blue sky overhead. Rough stone scrapes the back of my skull as I exhale a stream of gray vapor that dissipates after a few seconds.
“You will stink like smoke during the ceremony.”
I sigh before glancing at the familiar figure approaching.
Aleksandr favors Igor in appearance in addition to attitude. Maksim’s hair is lighter, but his face is a carbon copy of our mother’s. I’m a more even mix of our parents, with Igor’s dark hair and Elena’s proportional features.
“One more thing for Aleksandr to complain about.”
Lately, my brother has found fault with everything I’ve said or done. He opposed me on every aspect of the plan for Chicago, despite it being territory and distributors I’d overseen since I had been eighteen. Aleksandr hasn’t stepped foot in the city since then.
Strangely, Victoria delivering a son—his heir—seems to have put him in a worse temper than usual.
My mother halts beside me, adopting a similar pose—back to the church. Elena isn’t directly involved in business matters, but she understands their implications as well as anyone we employ. “Aleksandr wants the best for his family.”
I tap the cigarette against the side of the church, watching ashes drift to the dirty street. “I’m his brother.”
“Perspectives change when you have a child,” my mother states. “You would know, if you’d married Victoria instead.”
I grimace. “Igor told you?”
My parents might lead very disconnected lives, but they speak when they’re in the same place. Mostly about their children.
“Aleksandr.”
Well, that explains his recent flare of animosity.
“Who told …”
The obvious answer occurs before I’ve completed the question. The person forced to deal with my brother’s moods most of the time.
“He missed the birth.”
I drop the cigarette, smashing the butt with the heel of my boot and wishing I could squash my annoyance the same way. “It was nothing personal. I’ll never be pakhan. Victoria shouldn’t have even considered me.”
“Women are complex. We want more than power.”
I glance at her. “You didn’t.”
It’s not an accusation, simply an observation. Unlike others in her position, my mother has always seemed content with her circumstances. She fulfills all her public duties, like showing up today, and is discreet with her private choices.
Elena nods in agreement. “All I wanted from Igor were his money and his protection. The rest I could—and did—provide for myself. Women like Victoria hope for more. They expect marriage will change a man.”
“Hope is foolish.”
My mother reaches out to straighten my perfectly placed tie. “She will adapt, like we all do. They haven’t been married for long.”
I study her, noting the dark circles her makeup doesn’t entirely hide. “Where have you been this week?”
“Providing for myself.” She smiles. “He’s funny. A painter.”
I sigh. I don’t begrudge her any happiness, but that doesn’t mean I want details.
Elena shakes her head, patting my tie a final time before stepping back. “Do not give me that disappointed look, Lev. How many blondes has Igor hosted in my absence?”
“Can we discuss anything else?”
It’s either healthy or supremely messed up that my parents are so open with their affairs.
“Fine. I will be back in a few days.”
“I leave for Chicago tomorrow.”
My hand itches for another cigarette at the reminder. I’m dreading this trip, and I wish it weren’t so easy to pinpoint the reason.
“You just returned.”
“Something came up.”
She tsks her disapproval. “Dealing with O’Brien is beneath you. You are needed here.”
“Igor doesn’t think so.”
“Igor is greedy. If he sends you, it will be handled better. You let him take advantage.”
I don’t disagree. I should have handed Chicago off to a replacement years ago, as soon as our authority there was established.
“He is pakhan,” I state unnecessarily. “I listen to orders.”
“Igor listens to you.”
“Not always.”
“Is there a woman in Chicago?”
I slide my hands into my pockets before my gaze cuts to my mother. “There are lots of women in Chicago.”
She waits.
“No,” I add, letting annoyance flow freely into my tone.
I’m an excellent liar. Igor and Aleksandr have tells. Maksim hardly bothers to make excuses. But no one—not even Elena—has ever been able to tell when I’m sharing the truth. A skill I’m especially grateful for right now. No one can ever know about Carina’s existence.
“I fired your maid. She ruined a dress.”
“Fine.”
Elena studies me. If she was concerned I had feelings for Anna, she seems appeased by my apathy about her departure.
She smiles. “You will be pakhan one day, Lev.”
I hope she’s wrong. But hope is foolish. I’m smoking outside my nephew’s baptism because his father is furious his wife preferred me to him. I don’t know if Aleksandr will be ready when Igor dies, and I’ll have a difficult decision to make then.
I’ve earned my reputation. Aleksandr likes to act as though he’s above having one.
“You shouldn’t say that.”
My mother’s smile shifts, splintering at the edges. She looks away, studying the street in front of the cathedral. There’s no passing traffic—our men set up a security perimeter hours ago. “The ceremony is about to start.”
Elena heads back inside.
I resume staring up at the sky, counting down the seconds until I have to dutifully follow.