I hope Vanya is proud. She knows exactly what kind of frenzy she’s set off within the family. This reception is feral, with people looking at the other unattached people in the room like pieces of meat. How much are they worth, what kind of influence do they have, what’s their surname?
Mariana didn’t exactly wait for me to call her.
She was too busy getting hitched to Grigory, my youngest cousin.
Practically a child marriage, when you look at it from myperspective. Though I guess I shouldn’t throw stones when I’m currently chasing a 24-year-old, but there’s something different about Nina.
“Congratulations, cousin.” I clap him on the back. “You make a beautiful couple.”
It’s a lie.
Mariana looks like she could be his mother. She gives me a predatory look that lets me know she’d divorce him in a heartbeat if it meant she could upgrade. Grigory still has acne, for God’s sake.
He smiles at me nervously. “I’m surprised we haven’t seen you at the altar yet, Artyom.”
“All in good time,” I smile. I give Mariana a look as I say, “Didn’t want to rush into anything. After all, it is a lifetime commitment.”
Grigory’s throat bobs. “I suppose you’re right,” he frowns thoughtfully, as though he hadn’t considered it before.
Mariana glares at me and grips his hand tighter in her acrylic claws.
“Don’t wait too long Artyom,” she says, her voice sickly sweet. “Or all the good ones will be taken.”
This is the cattle market of love in the Bratva. Mariana doesn’t care if she’s seen as an object by her husband, by her family. She only cares that she is the most valuable object, wearing the most expensive dress, and marrying into the right surname.
On paper, this marriage works for her. In reality, Grigory might be close to the top — he’s a first cousin, Vanya is his babushka too — but marrying him reeks of desperation.
“C’mon now, Artyom. Don’t cuck our cousin on his weddingnight,” Valentin drags me away, leaving a confused Grigory and an enraged Mariana in his wake.
I watch him get drunk for the rest of the evening, wondering what Nina’s doing. The night descends into brawling when Valentin says something about Boris’s wife that offends him.
My meathead cousin takes a swing at him, and even Valentin, in his deeply intoxicated state, is fast enough to swerve that heavy fist. Boris has the muscle, but not the agility.
Valentin lands a jab to his chin, then his nose, and he barely manages to block the hit. His nose gives a spray of blood, and he taps out.
I roll my eyes with boredom. This is standard fare for a Petrov family gathering. I’m just about to excuse myself to deal with business when Ivan pulls me aside.
He tells me he’s found something interesting, and leads me to the library.
“Now I know you didn’t ask me to do this, but I am a detail-oriented person.“
“I trust you,” I reassure him. He looks visibly nervous about whatever he’s going to say next.
“I started, uh, researching Nina‘s past relationships a little further back than you might’ve thought.”
“What do you mean?” I ask him.
“Her daughter Ava. She is well, she is four years old.”
“Okay,” I reply. “So the kid is four. Sure.”
“Meaning that Nina got pregnant four and a half tofive years ago.”
“Get to the point,” I growl, losing my patience.
Ivan clears his throat and leans away from me. “I included the period of your last relationship in the calculus,” he tells me. “Sir, did you know that Nina came to the Estate the day before she left New York?”
“Vanya’s Estate?” The sprawling complex of Victorian houses and gardens is located on the outskirts of the city. Our events are held there, and each part of the family has a home there.
