Dmitri looks like he’s seen a ghost. “Ma’am… I don’t think you should do that to the Pakhan. He might get angry.”
I look at him, still holding my spoon like a weapon. “Do you want me to hit you too, Dmitri?”
“No, ma’am!” he squeaks.
“Then don’t say anything. He was being inappropriate, and I was correcting him. The man needs to learn some manners.”
The room stays quiet as everyone slowly drifts back to their tasks, though I catch Maria biting her lip to keep from smiling.
“Alright,” I say, smoothing down my apron. “Let’s finish this up. My friends will be here in an hour.”
“Ma’am, your guests have arrived,” Svetlana announces from the doorway.
I quickly wash my hands, drying them on my apron before heading to the foyer. Larisa and Yulia are standing in the entrance hall with their mouths hanging open, while Kostya and Yegor linger behind them, staring at the ceiling.
“Holy shit,” Yulia breathes, her eyes darting around the marble floors. “You’re actually super rich.”
“I saw armed guards,” Larisa adds, her voice dropping to a panicked whisper. “Like, with actual guns. What the fuck, Zoya?”
Kostya is busy squinting at the massive crystal chandelier. “This place is enormous.”
I scratch the back of my head, feeling that familiar pinch of awkwardness. “Let’s just say my husband is very well-off. Come on, let’s head to the kitchen. We’ll grab some brunch and then get to work on the project.”
As we walk through the hall, Larisa stops dead in front of my wedding portrait. “Holy shit. Is this from the wedding? You look beautiful, Zoya - that dress is incredible on you.”
“Thanks,” I say, offering a small, tight smile as I usher them into the kitchen where Maria and Irina are waiting.
“Welcome,” Maria says warmly. “Please, take a seat. We’ll start serving immediately.”
Everyone settles around the long marble table. Maria begins pouring water, but as she reaches Kostya, a few stray drops splash onto the stone near his hand. They don't even touch him.
He jerks back as if he’s been burned. “Watch what you’re doing!”
Maria immediately bows her head, her face flushing. “I’m so sorry, sir.”
“Clearly, you don’t know how to do your job properly, slow hag” Kostya snaps.
The room goes dead silent. I stand up so fast that my chair screeching against the floor sounds like a gunshot. “What the fuck did you just say?”
Kostya looks up at me, startled by the sudden venom in my voice. “I was just…”
“I invited you into my home so we could work, but I will not tolerate you insulting my staff.” My voice is shaking, fueled by a protective heat I didn’t know I had. “These people are family to me. If you can't show them basic respect in my house, you can leave. Right now.”
“It was just a comment…”
“Apologize. Now.”
Kostya looks to Yegor, then to Larisa and Yulia, but everyone is staring at him with varying levels of secondary embarrassment. He lets out a heavy, dramatic sigh. “Fine. I’m sorry. To the staff…I shouldn’t have said that.” Maria nods silently, refusing to look at him. He turns to me with an expression that is anything but sincere. “And to you. I was out of line.”
I sit back down, the adrenaline still humming under my skin. The rest of brunch is tense and uncomfortably quiet. Once the plates are cleared, I pull out my portfolio and spread my old clippings across the table.
“I used to work as a freelance journalist before I got married,” I explain. “I’ve kept up with some of it since then. These are a few of the stories I’ve covered.”
Larisa leans in, her eyes widening as she reads the headlines. “Wow. You interviewed the mayor? And this piece on the housing crisis in the industrial district - this was in a national paper.”
Yulia flips through the pages, impressed. “This is incredible work, Zoya. You did all this while being married? That’s wild.”
“Yeah. My husband supports me doing what I love, though it’s only recently I started to cover less dangerous stories” I say with a shrug.