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“Confronting ghosts?” There was a wry note in his voice.
She looked at him. Really looked at him. And for the first time, she saw the same hauntedness in his eyes that had lived inside her for so long.
“So many,” she whispered.
“Maybe over lunch you can tell me how you’ve managed to make peace with yours.”
“Maybe.”
It turned out to be a surprisingly pleasant meal.
Served on the patio overlooking the ocean, sheltered enough from the breeze for the mild sun to warm her skin, it allowed her and Andrei to slowly become reacquainted. The dogs sprawled in patches of sunshine, their bellies distended not from the kibble she had served them, but from the cubed roast beef the cook had generously supplied.
Conversation lulled once the silent but efficient staff cleared away the plates. When coffee arrived and Andrei produced a packet of cigarettes, she joined him.
It was then that he opened up. “I hope you can forgive me.”
She exhaled a stream of smoke, watching it dissolve into the sea air. “For?”
“For not doing more.” His throat bobbed. “For leaving Tatiana, you, Inessa.” He took a deep drag, exhaling slowly, eyes narrowed. “I escaped to boarding school and left you girls alone. I don’t think I’ll ever forgive myself for abandoning the three of you.”
“You were a kid yourself,” she murmured.
“And so fucking glad to be out from under the Pakhan’s reach.” His angry whisper lingered between them. “So fucking selfish.” He swallowed and crushed out his cigarette. The look he gave her was tortured. “When I heard Tati jumped—”
“You came back for her funeral. I remember.” He’d been in Cape Town by then. Attending university.
He gave a bitter laugh. “What a farce that was.”
“And” — she leaned across the table and rested her hand on his forearm — “that’s when you planted the seed of escape in my sister’s mind.”
He pulled out another cigarette and lit it. “Little Nessa.” A sad smile touched his lips. “Fuck, she was such a plucky kid.”
She pursed her lips. “Still is.” And then softer, she added, “We got out, Andrei. The Pakhan and Vasily are both dead. Let’s focus on that.”
He held her gaze for a long moment before nodding. “Yeah.”
She glanced toward the house. “I need to go inside.”
“Want an escort?”
The offer was tempting. More tempting than she cared to admit. But she shook her head. “Maybe you can keep the ladies company?”
Squaring her shoulders, she entered the mansion.
It was … anticlimactic.
The library where her grandfather had died smelled of furniture polish and old books. Not expensive cologne and cigar smoke. Certainly not blood.
She stood just inside the doorway, staring at the walls lined with leather-bound books, the Persian rugs, the sofas and armchairs arranged in neat conversational groupings.
Just another opulent room in an absurdly grand house.
Her gaze settled on the fireplace.
Behind it lay the hidden passage she and Inessa had escaped through all those years ago, terrified children fleeing for their lives.
She spun about, and climbed the carved staircase, her sneakers squeaking against the marble treads. On the landing, she paused and stared down at the foyer, at the inlaid starburst pattern far below.
