Back in high school, I once paid for her lunch and she felt guilty the whole day, saying how it was embarrassing that she couldn’t afford it herself; how she hates to feel like a charity case. Money, for the people who don’t have it, can be a sensitive matter, and I can understand that. It doesn’t buy happiness, but it does pay the bills, and if Sophia’s mom can’t even afford to do that anymore because of her gambling-addicted husband, I feel sorry for both of them.
Timur Gusev and Nikolai Rogov’s syndicate have so much money that they’re practically sweating out bucks.
“Okay.” I close the gap between us and bring her into a hug. “I’m sorry, Soph.” I nestle my head in her shoulder, and it feels like we’re in high school again. The gambling issues with her father always brought arguments to her dinner table, and she always came to school the next morning upset. All she wants is peace and financial freedom.
“Look.” I pull away and look into her eyes. “I get it. You’re a grown woman. But you don’t have to do this. You know I have savings. I’ll give you whatever you need to be done with this, okay? Any time you change your mind, you come to me, okay?”
She nods. “Thanks Lau.”
“What do they want in return? We both know that these Russians don’t give favors just because they’re feeling generous. What is it?” I feel like hurling at the thought. “Not sex. Oh my god, Sophia, please don’t tell me it’s—”
“Relax. Timur wants me to take care of his sick father and be his personal nutritionist.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s it.” She exhales again. “I’m okay, Lau, seriously. I appreciate the concern, but it could be a lot worse. This is life. Sometimes you have to make sacrifices.”
Sacrifices.
It seems like we’re all sacrificing our freedom for men these days. I work at my father’s investment company, walking down the very same path that he laid out for me ever since infancy, and Sophia has been married off to Timur Gusev, who might well be the man who killed my mom. And now, Sophia, my best friend, my ride-or-die is tied to this man. I grit my teeth and force down the tears as I think about it. But what am I supposed to say to her that I haven’t already said? Maybe she’ll change her mind when she gets back from her honeymoon. And when she does, I’ll be there for her.
“Do you know what my father’s doing here?” I change the subject. “I saw him shaking hands with Timur earlier.” The word “Timur” feels heavy as it rolls off my tongue.
Sophia frowns. “No, but most people here are associates of the Rogov Bratva. Maybe he doesn’t quite realize who these people really are.”
“Maybe…” I say absentmindedly, unconvinced. Business owners like him have to be smart. I know who my father is. I’ve seen some of his financial records. Sometimes he earns up to twenty grand in a day. People who blindly turn up to Bratva weddings don’t make that sort of income legitimately.
I hope Sophia is right.
But I have a feeling she isn’t.
“I’ll go speak to him.”
“Just be careful,” says Sophia.
“He’s my father,” I say. “I’m always careful.” I pull her into another hug, this one tighter than the last. “Enjoy the honeymoon, babe. Or try to, at least.”
“Santorini, Lau,” she says with a grin on her face. “It’s been my dream.He asked me where I wanted to go, and I said Greece. The next day, the tickets were bought.”
I don’t really know what to say to her. I’m happy she gets to visit her dream destination, but what’s the point if it’s paid for by blood money? At least one good thing has come out of all of this—Sophia is no longer restricted financially, and can go wherever her heart desires.
As long as Timur gives permission first.
I want to feel happy for her and I press a hand to my heart to try, but I can’t. I don’t trust Timur or Nikolai or the Rogov Bratva one bit. I just hope all of these luxurious getaways won’t come at a cost to Sophia’s own sanity.
I force a smile at her and keep my opinion to myself. “Have the best time, Soph. I’ll miss you so much. And remember,” I say. “You only owe him what you agreed. You don’t need to sleep with him just because you’re married.”
She nods and smiles. “Thanks Lau. Thanks for understanding.”
I wave her goodbye and go find my father before my mouth gets me into trouble again. I wonder why he chose burgundy tonight—the color of dried blood. Could this be some strange foreshadowing? Is he trying to get in with the Rogov syndicate? Or is he already involved with them somehow?
The crowds have thinned since I last walked through the courtyard. The dessert table is almost empty and I wander over to help myself to a slab of pre-cut cake, balancing it on a paper plate. I don’t know where Nikolai Rogov is. He’s not here, anyway. If he were, I’d be able to scout him out in seconds—he’s taller than everybody else here, and people act all rigid in hispresence. Even the security guard did earlier before he escorted me out.
I survey the crowds, and that’s when I see Father enjoying another flute of champagne. In his other hand are two chocolate strawberries.
I take a big bite out of the cake and weave through the crowds until I’m close enough for him to recognize me.
“Lauren? What are you doing here?” Surprise lifts his graying brows.
