Maya smokes a cigarette at the end of the boat, tapping away on her phone, her familiar face lit up and ghoulish. Zane sits huddled between us, watching the body vanish beneath the black waves. Even though she volunteered for this, she still looks a little shaken about the whole thing. I can’t say I blame her.
“I love you to the bottom of the lake,” Maya says, plucking the cigarette from her lips and blowing smoke from the corner of her mouth. “Ha ha.”
A tiny, miserable smile quirks Zane’s lips. She’s dressed in all black, her full figure displayed temptingly against the tight fabric of her top and leggings. She’s pulled back her pale curls, and I find myself imagining pressing my lips to the curve of the back of her neck.
I quickly shake the desire away. That’s not why we’re here, and I’m sure as hell not going to give this sham marriage any more credence than it deserves—even if I want to.
“So,” Maya says, as I turn the ignition and angle the boat back toward shore. “Howismarried life?”
“Don’t be a bitch,” says Zane, but her tone is fond. “If you weren’t sleeping with the enemy, I probably would have been married to you.”
“Alas.” Maya leans back, gazing up at the stars, wind whipping through her curls. “You know what’s funny, though? I always thought you two would end up together.”
Zane and I both laugh, sharply, bitterly, clearly attempting to dismiss Maya’s words. She sits upright, studying both of us.
“Come on,” Zane says, an amused edge to her voice. “He’s like my brother.”
I face forward, all too aware offense will show in my face. Those words sting much more than they should. After all, Zane never knew I had feelings for her. Growing up, we were so close. For me that friendship, tight and intimate, always felt like something that would evolve into something else. I guess I never thought of us as family. And if she did, what was that flirtation back at her apartment? Was she just fucking with me, or was some part of it real?
It doesn’t matter.We were forced to get married. That doesn’t exactly leave a lot of room for real feelings to develop.
“Yeah, whatever,” says Maya. “Not like it matters now, right? You two are stuck together. Only two things are forever in the mafia. Marriage and death.”
We’ve reached shore. The lights of the house glow, ghastly and sinister, through the fog and cold.
“Come on,” I say to them over my shoulder. “We have plans to lay.”
* * *
It’s hard to reconcile her being here. It’s been months since I’ve seen my cousin, and given the fact that no one seemed to really be looking for her—my dad and uncle included—I figured she’d gone out the way most of us do. Feet first and eyes wide open—like the man we just dropped into the black waters of the lake.
“Well?” I ask, drumming my fingers on my knee. “We’ve had our drinks and small talk.” If I have to watch Zane and Maya tittering over each other for another minute, my tenuous calm is going to shatter. “Time to tell us what the fuck you’re doing with Lebedev.”
Maya sits back, crossing one boot over her knee. Her temple is already scabbing from the crash, and she’s refused to accept the hospitality of a shower.
She doesn’t trust us. The thought embitters and aggravates me—after all, if anyone should be distrusted here, it’s Maya.
But worse than that, in a way, it saddens me. The three of us were once inseparable. Now what the hell are we? I find myself studying Zane, her calm expression, the resolute stillness of her body. Of the three of us, she’s always been the most likely to listen and empathize. Is Maya preying on that, or simply relieved it’s still true?
“It was a test,” Maya finally says. She reaches over to the side table and pours herself another whiskey, brushing dark curls from her eyes. “My father wanted me to prove I have the mettle to run the operation once he and Anton are gone.”
I bristle—it’s the exact explanation my father gave me when he told me to endanger Zane and go after Lebedev. But I don’t say so. Maya is the smart one. Or, I should say, the cunning one. And it’s clear even to me that she’s fishing for intel I’m not willing to give up.
“What about Nikolai?” asks Zane, brow knitted together. She looks between Maya and me. “Isn’t he the… heir, I guess?”
“You know this shit is earned as much as it’s blooded.” Maya gives Zane a sharp smile. “If you hadn’t bailed, you’d probably be tied up in this little game too.”
“So, you infiltrated Lebedev’s ranks to prove you’re the best man for the job,” I say, summoning my cousin’s cold eyes. “You must have been pretty convincing if you were able to get Yvan to trust you so quickly.”
“So quickly?” Maya drinks, watching me over the rim of the crystal tumbler. “I’ve been earning this spot for almost four years.”
I feel the blood drain from my face. “What the fuck does Lebedev have that’s so important to all of our fathers?”
“The same thing all three of us have, idiot.” Her smile is as cold and cutting as a knife. “A claim to the bloodline.”
Zane jolts. “What?”
“Yeah,” says Maya. “You heard right. Old Daddy Lebedev is a distant relative. Well, notsodistant. When he left Russia he changed his name. Once upon a time, or so the legend goes, Lebedev was one of us.”
