She gazes at me with pity in her eyes. “I didn’t mean you could jeopardize this operation in the process. You rush into things, Nikolai. You are impulsive and reckless. You don’t think before you act. A whirlwind marriage to a woman you hardly know does nothing to reassure me that you would be a capable leader.”
A knife to the gut would have been kinder.
“Fine. I can concede the point. What would it take to prove that I’m a better leader than Max or the twins?”
“I am watching the four of you closely. I suspect that you will have won in the most technical sense of having married first. Prove to me that yours is a real marriage, and that Sierra is as committed to the enterprise as the rest of us are.”
I feel sick. I can’t prove anything. Sierra doesn’t even know she married into the bratva—unless she’s a plant, in which case, my wife is a dead woman walking. No matter how much I’ve begun to care about her. I’ll do whatever I must to protect my family.
10
SIERRA
Lilia is more fun than I expected from the sister of my stoic husband. I keep tripping over the word. The eagle emblem ring still sits strangely on the fourth finger of my left hand. I touch it frequently. Turning it in circles. Tracing the engraving just to feel the sharp edges of the eagle’s wings and talons.
Food is the first order of business, seeing as I haven’t had anything to eat since yesterday at lunch and a few bagged snacks in the car on the way to Las Vegas. Lilia chooses a restaurant leagues beyond my usual drive-through choices. Who casually drops sixty bucks for brunch—before tax and tip?
Orlovs, apparently, without batting an eyelash. The portions are tiny little gourmet dishes, but it’s still thirty-six dollars for two poached eggs, which is highway robbery even if they are dusted with caviar. When I pull out the credit card Nik gave me, Lilia tries to wave it away, then leans forward to squint at the name. “Well, if it’s my brother paying, then I don’tmind you picking up the tab. The first rule of Orlov etiquette is that the man always pays.”
“Nik said to spend whatever I wanted. I plan to test his generosity.” I wink.
“Good. You should. Can I be nosy?” She leans forward, her delicate chin resting on her closed fist. “Did he give you a good marriage settlement?”
“Uh…” At first I’m stymied, but pride flashes through me. “Ten million dollars?”
Lilia barks a laugh. “Nikolai is such a cheapskate. I’d have held out for ten times that.” Seeing my crestfallen reaction, she recalibrates. “Don’t worry. You did alright. The money is just…insurance, you know? Earnest money, like when you’re buying a house. If the deal falls through and it’s his fault, you get to keep that money. If you walk away, you give it back. If he dies, or…” She trails off. “If anything bad happens to him, that way, you’re taken care of.”
Anything bad…like…jail?I can’t ask her that question. I suspect I won’t like the answer.
“I wouldn’t know anything about that. The idea of buying a house is beyond the realm of possibility.” I chuckle uneasily. This all feels unreal. Yesterday, I was cleaning houses and imagining a life out of reach. Today, I’m living it.
“It’s a weird thing in our world, very old-fashioned. You didn’t have anyone to negotiate for you,” Lilia says sympathetically.
“It all happened so fast,” I say, unsure how much I should reveal about my kidnapping.
“Love at first sight?” Lilia says innocently. She’sabout my age, early twenties, yet she seems so much more sophisticated than I am.
“Something like that.” I scribble an illegible signature on the credit card receipt and jerk my head at the exit. “Lilia, can I ask you something?” I glance at the tattooed, stone-faced guards watching over our table. “What kind of business are the Orlovs in, anyway?”
“How much did Nik tell you?” Lilia’s warmth fades abruptly.
“He said you’re in the casino business.”
“That’s true enough. It’s lucrative but cutthroat.” She indicates the guards and says brightly, “Shall we go shopping?”
Conversation over, clearly.
“Let’s,” I smile, smoothing over the awkward moment. Over the next few hours, we visit store after store, with Lilia guiding me toward the kinds of clothes she thinks I need most. Dresses. So many skirts. Long, short, slit to the thigh, tight or flowing—anything but pants. When I insist I need at least a couple of pairs of jeans, she relents and takes me to a store that sells nothing but the most expensive denim I’ve ever seen, in sizes made for human Barbie dolls. The shopkeeper eyes my hips and says, “I’ll have to check the back for extended petite sizes.”
Humiliated, I study my shoes—Lilia’s shoes, yet another item I need to buy—I blankly survey the racks.
“We don’t have to stay here,” Lilia whispers, tucking her hand into my elbow. “Let’s find another shop.” We exit, giggling, trailed by our guards. “I can’t believe she said that to you.”
We try another store, where I purchase two pairs of the most expensive jeans I’ve ever seen in my life. In the early afternoon, brunch has worn off, and my arms are getting tired from hauling so many bags—some of which we offload onto the guards—we stop in the food court. Over ice cream, I gather the courage to ask Lilia again, “What kind of business is the Orlov familyreallyin?”
There’s a long pause. She avoids my eyes.
“That’s a question for my brother to answer. I’m not really involved.”