For the first time, Galina looks at me. “He waited to die until you got here,” she says, but it’s an accusation not a compliment.
I waited too long to come. I dodged his calls, not wanting to find out what it was he wanted to give me before he died.
I was afraid it would be his position as head of the Moscow bratva. Or some other high up position. I thought he was calling me back to service.
Never in a million years would I have guessed it was to wed his daughter.
“May the earth be soft for him,” I murmur the traditional Russian saying then turn and walk out.
I don’t have time to grieve the loss of a man who already threw me out of his life six years ago. I need to figure out how to keep his stubborn daughter safe when she has no desire to be attached to me.
Chapter 2
Sasha
“Where are you going with that? Stop! That’s my mom’s,” I snap at Viktor, one of my father’s men. He’s one of four jerks who just barged into the one-bedroom apartment I’ve lived in for the last year with boxes and started packing everything up today. Right now, he’s boxing up the salad bowl I borrowed from my mom last week.
“I’m just following orders,” he tells me.
Maxim’s orders. Funny how Maxim doesn’t even have a position in the organization, but these guys obey him.
Maxim also gave me orders via text this morning: say your goodbyes and pack two suitcases because we’re leaving this afternoon.
Unlike Viktor and Alexei and the other two soldiers, I didn’t obey.
I’m not going anywhere with Maxim. I don’t know what kind of twisted game of poetic justice my father was playing with our lives, but marrying me to a man who hates me tops the cake.
My mom, whose apartment—the one I grew up in—is next door, comes in without knocking, taking in the chaos. “Today you leave,” she says. A statement, not a question.
I shake my head. “No. Help me—they won’t listen. Tell them to stop packing my stuff. I’m not going anywhere.”
My mom grabs my hand and pulls me into my half-packed bedroom. When she finds there’s a guy in there, too, she pulls me into the bathroom and shuts the door.
“Listen to me, Sasha,” she whisper-snaps.
I shake off her hand. “What?”
“You will go. Your father left me nothing. Nothing. He left it all to Vladimir and to you, in care of your former lover.”
“He wasn’t my—”
My mom waves an impatient hand. “Whatever. Maxim controls it now. So you need to go with him, make nice and ensure that money stays where it’s supposed to stay—with us.”
I stare at her. I’m surprised to discover this side of her. She was always so passive, so compliant with my father. She took what he gave us and never asked for more.
But I suppose with him gone, she’s discovering her vulnerability to losing it all. We both are.
The rebel in me wants to tell her hell no. I have principles, and they don’t allow me to be sold off to another member of my father’s organization.
But I have no livelihood and neither does she. My American acting degree is useless both here and there. The only job I worked was a side gig in college that involved me dressing sexy and handing out whatever product we were pushing. And I only did it for fun—not for the money.
Honestly? I shouldn’t have to work. My father’s money was intended for us, he just was an asshole about the way he gave it to us.
“What about Vladimir? He’s supposed to provide for you.” I hadn’t brought myself to ask about him before because I knew I couldn’t keep my mouth shut about how wrong this all is.
My mother clenches her teeth. “Vladimir is supposed to provide for me, yes. But you get everything. And I have no guarantees Vladimir will hold up his end of the bargain. You will not give up our inheritance because you’re being a stubborn cow.”
I draw back, surprised at how mean and desperate she sounds. Like she’s inches from a nervous breakdown. Or doing something crazy.
“I won’t give it up,” I promise her. “Maxim and I will come to an arrangement.” That was my plan from the start. He doesn’t want to be saddled with me any more than I want to be his devoted wifey. All we have to do is acknowledge that, and we can forego the whole moving in together and pretending. I’ll stay here. He’ll send me a check every month. Or better yet, direct deposit.
I head back out to the kitchen where Viktor’s nearly packed up everything. He looks over, but his gaze goes past me to my mother. “You okay, Galina? Anything I can do for you?”
He’s been our bodyguard for as long as I can remember. He and Alexei, the other guard, live here in the same building and rotate their time babysitting us. I suppose they’re happy to be rid of me. But it suddenly occurs to me that Viktor may not feel the same about my mother. The way he looks at her...