“…couldn’t hold him forever. Not a man like that. He is a brute, but he is smart. He will have been planning this for years. They say that one of the female doctors was giving him favorable treatment.”
“Favorable treatment?”
I don’t catch what my father says next, but it outrages my mother.
“Disgusting. How could someone be tempted by amonster like that? Knowing what he’s done to our family? To the Bratva?”
I hear the thud of Mama hitting Papa with a rolled-up magazine, the way she always does when she’s angry.
“I know,lyubov moya. It is shocking, given how many rubles she was paid.”
“The real problem, Maksim, is on our end. The ports. Our ports! Didn’t you tell your guards to turn him away? What use is our influence and control if we can’t keep scum like him out of the city?”
My father heaves a sigh. I can imagine the way he’ll be pushing his glasses up his nose in distress without looking up from my painting.
“He overpowered them, Milusia. It is hard to control a man like that.”
I’ve never heard my father’s voice drip with such venom. He’s normally so mild and controlled.
“And are we safe here?”
The rising tone of Mama’s voice, nearing a panic, is what makes me look up. Mama loves to worry, but she’s not melodramatic.The only time she sounds distressed like this is when we talk about my brothers…which is why we’re rarely allowed to mention them.
“Calm down, calm down,” Papa snaps. “There are issues with some loyalists at the port, of course, but it’s not like he has any real influence.”
Mama lowers her voice back to a hiss. “We are talking about a killer, Maksim. An insane murderer. He was supposed to rot in Siberia. He is exiled from all Bratva territory.”
“Sometimes the past comes back to haunt us.”
“Maybe we need to leave the city.”
Leave the city?
I haven’t left New York since I was a child. I’ve barely been allowed out of the house since I was eleven. Since everything happened with my brothers…
My heart pounds in my chest. Whatever my parents are talking about, it’s something serious. Something out of our ordinary routine of visits from art dealers, hosting dances and high teas with the rest of the Bratva.
My father tuts his tongue. “We won’t be intimidated out of our own home by a lowly peasant like him.”
“We are not safe here, if people likethatcan walk the streets.”
Who are they talking about? As much as I’d like to stay in my quiet afternoon with my painting, my curiosity wins out. As soon as I catch my Mama’s attention, she won’t leave me alone until we’ve arranged every detail for the engagement party tonight.
“Mama, who are you talking about?”
Mama rearranges her face into a false smile. “Nothing to worry about,malyshka. You know how the Bratva loves to gossip.”
I know how my mother loves to gossip. And I know that her empty gossip with the other Bratva women doesn’t normally center on murderers. This is something different.
Papa frowns at Mama.
“Milusia, I think it is time we told her the truth.”
Mama hits him with her magazine again, but my fatherstraightens his shirt and clears his throat, beckoning me to come over.
Mama shakes her head at me, but Papa shoots her a look.
“Natalia is old enough now that she can know this. She should know this, before she marries.”
