“And now?”
“I’m sure.”
She nodded, but it was another hit, another block added to an already tettering tower.
Lazar didn’t care about the trauma he was causing. “What should I do? How do I fix it? The only thing they want, and I can’t give it to them.”
“Well, you need to,” Kira answered. “My father will kill you. So, decide whatever they want, is it worth your life? The life of your wife?”
Lazar stared at her. The wheels in his head were spinning, and Maxim studied him, trying to read the expressions on his face, but all emotion cut off, and Lazar nodded. “You’re right.” He began buttoning his coat and stepped in front of the mirror to fix his hair. “The answer is simple. Isn’t it?”
“Lazar?” Maxim asked, but his brother only turned to him, his composure fixed and relaxed.
“I’ll take care of it.” He walked out.
The bad feeling didn’t leave with Lazar. Maxim looked toward Kira, as if to ask what the hell that was about, but the woman turned from him to go to her bedroom.
Maxim chased her. “Kira–”
“No, you don’t know what I might say to my father.” She slammed the bathroom door, locking it, and watched as he struggled to open it. Kira was determined not to allow Maxim to have any power over her. Since she first got here, she just let him treat her anyway he deemed, and she took it, like a pathetic wimp of a woman, but not anymore. She had pride just as well as he did, and for too long, he stomped on it. Now it was time to show the strength of her blood. If her father’s visit had done anything, it was to remind her of the power she had. Maxim needed her. She could make his life a living hell if she so chose. She was not going to be a punching bag any longer.
Kira was surprised to hear that Lazar was back; not four hours later, and dinner was being set. She almost didn’t go, but she was curious if Lazar had managed to do what he decided. She joined the table late and could already tell something was wrong. His wife, Trina, kept her head down and hadn’t even greeted Kira when she came in. The woman held her drink and stared at her empty plate.
Lazar was clearly drunk, grinning at her and saluting in greeting. “Mrs. Morozov. You get more beautiful every time I see you.”
Kira pressed on a smile, glancing wearily at Maxim. Her husband was watching Lazar skeptically. But he waved a hand to bring in the food, hoping some sustenance would help Lazar’s current state.
“Now that we are all here,” Maxim began. “Won’t you tell us why we are here?”
Lazar laughed, and yelled, “Let’s eat! Where’s the rush?” Cabbage soup was put before him, and he ate it with over excitement as everyone watched him.
Maxim only had patience for one appetizer. “Lazar–”
“I did it!” Lazar raised his glass. “I found a way! Just like you–” he pointed at Kira, “-suggested.”
“How?” Maxim inquired.
“Just a small trade.”
Kira’s brows knit, and she waited for Maxim to say something, but he only continued to eat. “What kind of trade?” Kira pushed.
Lazar met her gaze, shrugging. “Nothing too big,” he assured. Then looked around for a servant to fill up his glass. “The enemy of my enemy is my friend, isn’t that how the saying goes? The damage you did with the Utkins actually helped us and now we are free of Yakov’s dark cloud.”
“You traded with the Utkins? Traded what?” Maxim pushed. The fact that Lazar wasn’t sharing only heightened his anxiety.
Lazar murmured, “Just a simple arranged marriage.” He turned and called out, “Lydia! You around? My glass is empty.”
Maxim stopped chewing and stared at him. “A what?”
After a moment, Lazar gave up and dropped the glass on the table with a sigh. “Arranged marriage. For your child or mine.”
Trina hissed under her breath, “For a child that doesn’t even exist.”
“Yet,” Lazar bit back. “Time for you to actually partake in this marriage.” He noticed a servant had walked in and quickly held up his glass. “Lydia! You look great. We miss you at the house.”
His conversation with Lydia continued, and her laughs did nothing to cut through the tension.
“Why didn’t you talk to me about this?” Maxim asked, wiping his mouth with his napkin and sitting back in his chair.
