Leks has tasked me with reviewing all of the inventory in the secure vaults at the docks. Hundreds of paintings, some of which I haven’t seen in years, since I was a child.The paintings are calming and familiar and remind me that while everything might have changed with my family, some things have stayed the same. Some things are still true.
I know this job is important to Leks, too.
He’s trying to catch my father using a forged painting instead of the real thing and flag it with the Pakhan, Viktor Zakharov. If news got out that some paintings were forged, it could destroy entire networks of deals and put people’s lives at risk.
The theory they have at the moment is that my father is mixing up the real paintings with the forgeries, allowing him to double-dip without acquiring any new assets.Unravelling the lies all depends on these vaults which have been filled to the brim with art for years. They’re heavily guarded, of course — Leks and Yuri both started out as some of the surly-faced, deadly guards surrounding the vaults.
The Pakhan won’t be able to ignore it, not when they have this much proof. The Council would put him in exile, at the very least, leaving Leks free to take my family’s seat.
I thought Leks might be exaggerating about the paintings.
After spending a morning in the vault, I’m worried he’s not, and that’s even worse. If the real artworks are missing, I might never see them again in my life.
Last time I looked at these paintings, twenty-five of the paintings — exactly half of the vault — were forgeries. The rest were real.
Now, I can only find one real painting in the entire vault.
Even at a glance, I can see several obvious defects. I chew my lip. These are paintings that I’ve seen before, that I know were authentic when I last saw them. How have they been replaced by fakes so quickly?
When I check the time, it’s only been two hours. I’m surprised to find myself restless. I used to be able to do this for hours on end.
This was all that would fill my days, that I would look forward to every morning.
But somehow, it feels like something is missing. Even after a few hours away from him, doing what I love, I want to see Leks.
29
NATALIA
“This is weird.” Vera points her fork between us, chewing a mouthful of pasta. I regret inviting her for dinner. Shealwayssays what’s on her mind, which is the last thing we need.
“What’s weird?” I feign innocence.
“You two are quiet. And lesssickeninglyin love than you have been lately. Trouble in paradise?”
Leks shoots me a glance and we both open our mouths at the same time. The truth is, he has been nothing but kind to me, but I can’t stop blaming myself.
I should have destroyed the listening devices sooner. I should have told him exactly what my father was planning. He might have forgiven me, but I definitely haven’t forgiven myself.
At our silence, Vera bursts into laughter, widening her eyes. “Oh my God. There’s definitely something.” Shecontinues eating. A minute later, she sets down her cutlery. “You’re spending too much time together. I have an idea.”
Leks gives a groan. “I know what you’re about to say. Your ideas are always the same.”
“Yup.” Vera stands up, downing her glass of wine, picking up the wine bottle and leaving a half-eaten plate of pasta. “Come on, Natalia. We’re going out.”
Leks rolls his eyes. “Vera?—”
“All three of us. You keep this girl way too cooped up, Leks. She’s 21 years old, not an old man like you, and she’s gone from being locked in one house to being locked in another. Do you want her to never go to a club in her whole adult life?”
“Vera. I’m 31, not an old man. And I’msureNatalia has been to a club at some point,” he says.
I blush.Of courseI haven’t been to a club.
She raises her eyebrows and turns at me. She is not taking prisoners tonight. “Well. Have you?”
“No, but we don’t have to?—”
“Leks, do you want your wife to have never experienced a club in New-York-fucking-city? She’ll be eaten alive the second she has to interact with another Bratva woman.”
