“You could have waited to see him until he’s grown up,” I say.
“He might have to take over from me sooner than you think.” The cryptic statement makes me squint my eyes.
Leo never speaks of retirement and giving up his position, so I’m surprised at this suggestion. He has never married, andhas always stated that his brothers’ sons will carry his title one day, but I never understood why. I know he’s a bit old, but men in their forties get married all the time in our world. To young, beautiful women, too.
It has been a few months since I saw Leo. We were at Mikhail’s wedding, celebrating the union of the third-oldest Antonov brother to a bride from a powerful bratva family. It was an alliance Leo forged years ago.
I notice the subtle changes in his features. He has the kind of body that still looks like it could lift a man by the throat, but the light shows lines at the corners of his eyes, silver at his temples, a quiet heaviness around the mouth that was not there before. He looks like a man who has carried a country on his shoulders and fears he will carry that burden to his grave.
“College,” he says, as if it is a greeting. “How is it.”
“Not well,” I say, and kick my shoes off under the table. “I never have time to study. I spend my nights laundering our money because you keep asking me to.”
Leo's mouth tilts. “I ask because you are good. I cannot wait for you to graduate and stop wasting time in classrooms. Then you will join the business and your professors will stop sending me emails about attendance.”
Aleksei strolls in with a bottle of mineral water. He is taller than both of us, broader, a wall with a face. Tattoos curl under the sleeves of his black T-shirt. There is flour on his forearm. He must have stolen a cookie on his way to the fridge. His eyes cut to the plate, then to us.
“You started without me,” he says.
“Started,” I repeat, and take a meat pie before he can blink. “You mean finished.”
He sets the bottle on the counter and walks back slow, like a man who has already accepted the loss. I hand Leo a napkin, then reach for another pie. We attack in silence. The crust flakes,the steam hits my face, beef and onion and peppered gravy. I do not realize how hungry I am until the first bite cracks something open in my chest.
Aleksei sits, watches us work, then laughs under his breath. “I leave for one minute and two wolves climb on the table.”
“You should guard your food better,” I say.
“You should fear for your life,” he says, but he is smiling.
Leo wipes his fingers, then leans back, glass on his knee, eyes on me again. He looks different tonight. There is something else under the calm. I see it now that I am not moving. A shadow that clings to him like a second coat.
“Did something happen?” I ask. “You look different.”
“Something is always happening in our world.” Leo frowns. The lines around his mouth dig deep into his skin. “Why do you ask?”
“You look sad,” I say, and then it sounds like an accusation, so I soften it. “Older.”
Leo watches the lamp for a second, the way the light settles in the shade. “It is nothing,” he says. “I was remembering a thing that is not worth speaking of.”
He is evasive, which means it is not nothing. He turns the conversation before I can press.
“Your mouth,” he says, switching to Russian. “Why is it red, bratishka?”
Aleksei tilts his head. He sees it too now, the raw look at the edges, the heat in my face that is not from the food.
“I kissed a girl,” I say.
The room goes very quiet. Somewhere, the baby monitor pops and then settles.
Aleksei stares like I have announced the moon has fallen into the pool. “You kissed a girl.”
“Yes.”
“I thought you were a virgin,” he says. “I thought Leo would have to chain you to an altar and marry you to some poor bratva princess, and that’s the only way you’ll ever get laid.”
Leo sips and does not deny it. “Do you want that,” he asks. “Arranged marriage. Easy alliance. Little work.”
“I want whatever makes money,” I say.
