“Breakfast,” he said, as if it were the most obvious answer in the world. “Don’t you know this is the most important meal of the entire day?”
“According to whom?”
“Americans, and my wife, so we’re going to eat.”
“I’m not hungry,” I said, hoping that would be enough for him to leave.
“Fine, I don’t care,” he shrugged. “We’ll sit down at the table and you can watch me eat.”
“Is there anything else?” one of the hotel staff asked, looking between me and Kostya.
“No, thank you. That’ll be all.”
As soon as the door closed, I turned back to my nephew, who was already picking through the massive spread of food.
“And how many people are coming to this breakfast?” I asked as I took in a tray on the first cart. It had a full caviar service, both Beluga and Astoria tins on crushed ice with bellinis, chopped egg, shallots, crème fraîche, and toast points surrounding it. Next to it was a smoked fish platter, featuring sturgeon gravlax and sablefish, accompanied by lemon wedges and dill.
I had to admit, the spread was impressive enough to almost distract me.
“Just us,” Kostya said. “I couldn’t decide if I wanted the Russian or the American breakfast, and I know you well enough that I had better have coffee with me.”
He gestured to the third cart, which had a full coffee service.
The smell hitting me like a jolt, I went straight there and poured myself a large cup of black coffee. I took a fortifying sip then walked right past the second cart that held the American breakfast of steak, eggs, roasted potatoes, orange juice, and a plethora of pastries and headed back to the Russian breakfast, where I begrudgingly made myself a plate of caviar and fish.
If breakfast was supposed to be the most important meal of the day, it should be full of protein, not carbs. Fuel to keep a man sharp.
“And since when did you start eating like this?” I asked. “I seem to remember you being very much on the food is fuel and nothing more mindset.”
“Marina,” he said with a wide grin. “Before her, I lived to work. She has shown me the beauty of working to live, and all the pleasures I was missing out on.”
“Please do not start talking about your sex life,” I begged, taking a seat at the head of the same table where I sat with Anna last night.
“I was talking about food and art, but she does this thing with her tongue, and I have to tell you, Uncle—" He cut off his words to duck when I threw a fork at his head.
“And is her new ‘work to live’ philosophy what I have to thank for your decreased productivity?”
He just laughed and loaded his plate up with a little bit of everything. When he finally took his seat, I took a long sip of my coffee and waited for him to start.
“So, why are you really here, Uncle?” Kostya asked before sinking his teeth into a blini topped with caviar.
He ate like a man without worries, but he watched me like a man who understood there was a storm brewing.
“I’m assuming your brothers or your cousins have filled you in?”
Kostya shook his head. “There’s what they said, and then there’s what they think, and then there’s what I think. I want to know which is right.”
“I’m here because the bottom line has been suffering, and I’m going to set it straight. Both Artem and Gregor have been distracted.”
“See, that’s what they said you said, and they think you’re here because you just want to put them back in line. That it’s some type of power play.”
“And what do you think, Nephew?” I asked before taking another deep sip of my coffee.
“I think you’re bored in London because it’s cold and dreary and there’s really not that much to do. I think you’re here to cause a little chaos, and because deep down you miss us.”
I cocked an eyebrow at him.
“Okay, so it’s mostly because you want to cause a little chaos and rattle some cages.”
