To them, people like us are dangerous and they want no affiliation. But deep down, I think they let me come around because they thought they could save me from my own family. They have no idea I want to lead one of these fight rings, maybe if only to prove to them and to myself that it's a sport like any other. It's illegal, but I don’t think it should be, and the betting isn't something we control. We just train the fighters and set the matches.
But what's done is done, and I have to respect that my best friend has boundaries. I watch her snake through the crowd closer to the speakers and feel the atmosphere shift as my brother walks up.
Yefim takes her stool without asking and doesn't order a drink or waste a second on a hello. All of them are rude like this, and pushy too.
"Where are we with the Kuzin situation?" he asks, leaning one elbow on the bar and angling his body toward me. "He left and you're not with him."
"My God, lay off," I tell him. "I had one date with him so far and he got called off to work. What, you want me sucking his dick right here or something?" I know I have an attitude, but being soft with these jerks gets me nowhere. If I let them push me around, I'll end up being their little bitch, which is how I ended up in this stupid position anyway.
"Smart… Can you kill the fucking attitude, Zora?"
I roll my eyes at him and chug the rest of my drink, slapping the empty glass on the table. "He'll be back, okay? I got him hooked."
"Yeah, okay, but you need to remember who you're talking to." Yefim scowls at me, but he's nicer than Makar or Bogdan. Closest in age to me, we were practically twins growing up. If any of the three of them have a heart, it's him.
"Kazimir hasn't said much about his business yet, but I know I can coax it out of him. He said he's in charge of fights, so I'm not sure if Roman's stepping back with that new alliance we heard about or not, but Kaz is?—"
"Kaz?" he snips, glaring at me. "A nickname already? Zora, don't let this fuck with you. You got it?" He grabs my knee and squeezes. " You are here as an asset. Do what you have to do to make him trust you, then we fuck with him. You got that?"
I feel the concern under his lecture and I nod. "Yeah, I got it. Okay? I'm not falling in love or anything. I'm just saying, the more real this seems, the more he trusts me. I know what I have to do." Even as I say it, I feel Alisa's eyes boring into my back from her place on the dance floor. She'd be ashamed of me for doing what I'm doing. She thinks this is some fairytale romance or something, and what would she think if she knew I was purposefully manipulating a man to set him up for failure?
My head drops as I feel the swirl of alcohol blanket me and shame well up.
"Can you handle this?" he asks me. Though I get no sense of appreciation for what I'm actually doing—murdering my own conscience.
"I can handle it," I tell him, but my stomach rolls.
"Good." He stands up from the stool and buttons his jacket then tugs the front of it straight. "Keep your timeline tight, Zora. Bogdan's patience has limits, and you and I both know what happens when he runs out of it."
He turns and walks back through the crowd, leaving me to feel the acidic bile of my own guilt rise in the back of my throat. One of the only reasons I'm in this position where they don't trust me to lead is because of Alisa. They say she's been a bad influence on me, but honestly, she's the one who's kept me honest and following my heart.
I'm departing from what I know is the right thing to do by following my brothers, and that will eat away at my chest for the rest of my life. Alisa would be ashamed. Maybe she'd never talk to me again. And then the only real friend I have in life would be gone. I'd have family, but the family I have isn't the sort of family I need or want. It's not what any woman wants.
"All good?" she asks me as she slides back onto her seat, winded from dancing. Her cheeks are flushed and her temples are moist with sweat.
"All good," I say, forcing a smile. The hardest part of all of this will be lying to her. I can probably muddle through the act with Kazimir. He makes it easy to fake being interested because I am interested. That part won't be a lie. But lying to my best friend will challenge me and I'm gonna hate myself when this is over.
"Good," she says, and she grabs my hand. She pulls me off my stool and grins wildly. "We're dancing. Your man left and you've been sitting at that bar looking miserable, and I'm putting a stop to it right now."
She drags me onto the floor where the bass thumps up through my feet and into my legs, and she throws her arms around my neck the way she's been doing since we were sixteen years old sneaking into clubs with fake IDs.
As the music takes us and my hips start swaying again, I let the worry of what she may think fade away and get lost in the beat.
It's just a short little fake relationship, and then I prove myself to my brothers. A few weeks, maybe, a month or two at most. Then I never have to lie to her again. And I can run a legitimate club and make my own way.
I just have to hold it together a few months.
5
KAZIMIR
The dining room table has disappeared under so much fabric and paper that I can't tell what color the wood is anymore. Mila sits at the head, scanning two invitation samples she's holding side by side, tilting them toward the light from the window. Three women I don't recognize are crowded around her, and one of them is cutting ribbon while another flips through a binder so thick it could stop a bullet.
I pause at the archway long enough for Mila to notice me. She looks up and her whole face changes into a grin.
"Kazimir, come here. Which one?" She holds up both invitations, one in each hand, turning them so I can see the difference in the cardstock. "The ivory or the cream?"
They look identical to me and even if this were my own wedding, I wouldn't care less. I lean against the doorframe and squint at them to pretend I'm really paying attention. She's so excited and I have become a lot like my uncle over the years. Too conscientious to hurt someone's feelings if it's avoidable. "The one on the left."
