“I’m not much of a gardener. I’ve tried, but all I seem to do is kill everything I touch.”
Ivan chuckled. “Don’t be so modest, Dorothea. I remember the roses you used to grow.”
She bit her lip, uncertain how to proceed. Clearly, he thought she was someone else. It seemed like a bad idea to pretend she was or go along with the delusion, so she tried to be gentle when she said, “I’m not Dorothea, Ivan. My name is Tara, if you remember? I’m a…friend of Alexei’s.”
His dark eyes looked clouded for a moment, and then he blinked and nodded. “Of course you are. Dorothea died seven years ago.”
“I’m sorry,” she said softly, squeezing the hand that still held hers for a moment before letting go to reach for a bulb as a means of distracting herself and him from the moisture collecting in his eyes. “Who was Dorothea?”
“Dorothea was my wife, and the mother of my sons and daughter. She was a wonderful woman, kind and patient, and she put up with more than she should have.” His expression appeared lucid for the moment, and he spoke with authority tinged by sadness. “She deserved better than me.”
She couldn’t resist the urge to pat the older man on the shoulder. “I can see you loved her very much, and I’m certain she knew that as well. I doubt she would have agreed that she deserved better than you.”
He blinked again, a lone tear streaming down his cheek, and he ignored it. “I hope you’re right, myshka. What did you say your name was again?”
“Tara.”
He nodded, saying her name a couple of times under his breath and just barely audibly, as though committing it to memory. “Very well, Tara. Let’s get these bulbs in the ground. They won’t plant themselves.”
“It’s too bad they won’t, because as soon as I touch them, they’ll likely curl up and die.” She kept her tone and interaction light with the older man. He seemed to like her, and perhaps he would have interceded on her behalf with Alexei, but that would feel wrong.
He was clearly struggling with some sort of health problem, likely something such as dementia or Alzheimer’s, and it would be unethical to use someone who was incapacitated if she tried to twist him to suit her own ends. That was dishonest, and she didn’t want to hurt the older man. He had been exceedingly kind to her already, and she could certainly use a friend in this unfriendly place.
* * *
Alexei glanced out his office window, watching his father gardening with his lover. He was deliberately avoiding looking at Vadim Kasilli, wanting the other man to squirm and be reminded that as things stood, he was of lower rank in the vory v. zakone than Alexei—unless Vasile changed that, of course. Finally, unable to put it off any longer, he turned to face Kasilli. “Why have you come to my home, Vadim?”
The older man clearly disliked his tone, judging from his straightened posture and the curl of his lips. Still, he had more sense than the call Alexei on the perceived lack of respect. “I come seeking answers, Lyosha.”
Alexei’s mouth tightened, and he glared at the older man. “You will call me Alexei or Varnakov, but you do not have permission to use the diminutive of my name.” Allowing him to use his nickname would put him in a precarious position, one that would give the illusion of Vadim having more power than he did. Plus, he genuinely disliked the man across from him, and he didn’t like to hear his nickname on the other man’s lips. It hinted at familiarity that didn’t exist between them.
Vadim nodded once, but didn’t apologize or repeat his name in the proper form. He simply said, “Slava has gone missing.”
Alexei stood across his desk facing Kasilli, who had not sat down. Unless or until his uninvited guest took a seat, he would remain standing as well. Any perceived imbalance in power would not suit him. “Slava isn’t missing. I know exactly where he is.”
Vadim’s eyes widened, and he looked slightly surprised. “Very well. Will you please tell him to return to service?”
“I won’t be able to tell him anything of the sort, Kasilli. Slava is dead, because he defied my order to stop the shipments of human cargo. We will no longer be engaging in that business.”
Vadim’s expression turned sour. “I wish to see your father.”
“My father is unavailable, and you’re dealing with me. I am acting Pakhan of the city, and I say there will be no more slaves. We’re getting out of that sordid business.”
Vadim shook his head. “You’ve lost your mind, Varnakov. Do you know the kind of profits we pull in from selling sex slaves? Not to mention the long-term revenue generated by keeping our own stable in brothels around the city.”
“I’ve found a way to replace that income and then some, by a very generous margin. Human trafficking is too hot. It’s the kind of business that will bring the feds down on all of us. I don’t intend to serve life in prison for it.” Alexei took a hard line, underlining the selfish reasons why they should not be engaged in the skin trade.
It was all true, but it wasn’t his primary motivation. He found the idea of selling people distasteful. Having toured the brothels of which Vadim spoke a few times, back when his father was still in charge and in full possession of his faculties, Alexei had always been disquieted by what he’d seen. He had sworn as a younger man, barely in his twenties, that he would see the end of that filth in his city as soon as he took over. He had not forgotten that personal vow, and he was in the process of phasing it all out, except for the legitimate businesses.
His mouth curled slightly as he acknowledged the IRS would probably not consider the strip clubs and the brothels lawful, but they were legitimate enough for him as long as the people working there were doing so of their own volition. He had personally vetted everyone who worked at the clubs and the three brothels located throughout the city to ensure the sex workers were there by choice and not by slavery. He wasn’t about to see that change on the whim of Vadim, who had clearly been the one ordering Slava to continue bringing in slaves.
“I’ve made a decision here, Kasilli. You will abide by it. As the Avtoritet, it’s your duty to follow my commands. I trust you need nothing more than a verbal reminder of that?”
Vadim stiffened, his anger palpable, but he nodded jerkily. “Of course, gospodin.” He bit out the last word with sharp sarcasm, but Alexei let it slide.
“No more skin shipments. No more people flooding our city who don’t want to be here. There are still work agreements that can be arranged with people who can’t afford to immigrate the traditional way, but we will no longer be selling sex slaves or forcing men and women to work in the brothels. We certainly won’t be accepting underage girls for any agreements. Do we understand each other?”
That had been the main reason he had shot Slava, having intercepted the man in the process of taking possession of the shipment of people he had already forbidden his bratva to touch. When he had opened the shipping container and discovered more than half of the occupants were girls under the age of eighteen, and under fourteen in some cases, he had lost his shit, so to speak.
At that point, Slava has slipped away in the ensuing chaos of sorting out the identities of the girls and arranging temporary shelter for them as he tried to figure out what to do about their future. Once Yuri and Stepan had tracked down Slava and brought to the club, Alexei hadn’t even attempted to hold back the anger he’d felt at the other man’s betrayal and lack of compassion.
“If there’s nothing else, Kasilli, I have things to do.”
Vadim glared at him, his lack of respect appalling. It demanded a response, but Alexei just wanted the other man gone. “If we have to have this discussion again, it won’t be so polite. Understand?”
“Of course, Varnakov.” Without another word, Vadim spun on his heel and strode from the office.
Alexei didn’t bother to follow him to ensure the other man left, knowing Stepan would do so.
Once he’d regained control of his temper, Alexei left his office and walked through the house, intent on joining his father and Tara in the garden
area. The grass was damp from the rain they’d had overnight, but he disregarded any damage it might do to his handmade Italian loafers. He stood back beside a silent Yuri to watch them for a few moments. It was a chance to observe both unaware, and the tender way Tara interacted with his father made his chest ache. It was a disconcerting sensation, but not entirely unpleasant.
He smiled when she did, as she chatted with his father. He frowned when Ivan called her Valentina twice, because that indicated his memory had slipped even further. Both times, Tara just gave him a gentle reminder of her name before carrying on as though nothing had happened. He wondered if she had experience with memory impairment.
Finally, he stepped forward and made his presence known by kneeling down beside them. “What are we planting today, Papa?”
Ivan beamed at him. “Tulips, syn moy.”
“Planting or killing? That remains to be seen,” said Tara lightly, not giving any hint that she might be there under duress, or bearing any ill will toward Alexei. He didn’t know if her discretion was for his father’s benefit, or if she was just a good actress, but he appreciated the lack of acrimony in her response.
“Tell me how I can help.” It was an impetuous offer, and he’d certainly never been on his knees in a garden bed before, but with Tara there, alongside his father, he couldn’t imagine a better place to be at the moment.
* * *
It felt like a surreal turn of events as Tara entered the dining room that evening, having been shown the way by Yuri, who hadn’t spoken. She didn’t know if he was still angry with her for kicking him, or if he was simply a reticent man. Either way, it was surprisingly soothing to be in the silent man’s presence, to not have to make small talk or worry about making an impression upon him.
She certainly didn’t have to protect Alexei’s bodyguard from the truth that she was here as a captive. Ivan wouldn’t have handled that well, she was certain. Already, she felt protective toward the gentle older man. She didn’t want to see him hurt or distressed.
Perhaps that was how she found herself joining them for dinner. Ivan had spoken as if it was a foregone conclusion that she would be at the dinner table, and Alexei had done nothing to counter the idea. So she had found herself dismissed from gardening ninety minutes before dinner so she’d have time to freshen up and dress appropriately.
Now, as she entered the elegant dining room, three men stood up from the table as a sign of respect. She smiled at Ivan, gave Alexei a cool nod, because she was still conflicted on how to feel about him, and then turned her attention on the third man whom she hadn’t met yet. “Hello.”
He shared some resemblance with Alexei and Ivan, but his hair was dark, and his cheekbones were sharper. He also had ice-blue eyes instead of their almost-black shade. Still, she wasn’t surprised to learn he was Lev Varnakov, Alexei’s younger brother. He must favor his mother, the deceased Dorothea.
Alexei held her chair for her, seating her before he took a seat himself, and the other two followed suit. She wondered if it would be like this every night, should she be allowed to join them on a regular basis—or choose to. She was uncertain about the change in status, and what kind of freedom she had now. It was something she would have to discuss later with Alexei when he came to her room. She had no doubt he would come for her, and then she would likely come for him, over and over again.
Her thighs clenched at the thought, and she couldn’t deny a curl of heat flickering in her stomach with anticipation. As much as Alexei confused and angered her, he also had the ability to turn her on like no one else.
Forcing her thoughts from the carnal, she folded her linen napkin and placed it on her lap, smoothing it down over the light-gray designer gown she had chosen for dinner. She’d been afraid she was overdoing it, but Alexei, Lev, and Ivan all wore oxford dress shirts and ties, though their jackets weren’t in sight.
A neatly uniformed maid served them each course efficiently. Pleasant conversation accompanied the meal, adding to the sense of surreality swirling through her. For all intents and purposes, she was nothing more than a guest joining them for an evening meal.
Lev and Ivan both appeared ignorant of her captive status, or how she’d come to be there. They seemed to assume she was simply Alexei’s woman, and they were treating her politely and courteously as a result. She supposed she could have destroyed the gossamer illusion with a few simple words, perhaps even garnered sympathy from the two men that might have forced Alexei to free her, but she was strangely reluctant.
In the end, she dismissed the idea of asking those men to assist her to freedom, because she knew it would cause strife between Alexei and his family. That wasn’t her problem, but the truth was, she was certain Alexei wouldn’t let her go anyway, even if both men tried to pressure him to do something different. And if they were both part of the bratva like he was, what were the odds of them actually deciding to help her? Alexei had already told her the rules they lived by—avoid witnesses or eliminate them if avoidance was impossible. If these men were part of the russkaya mafiya, they wouldn’t hesitate to follow its code, no matter how charming and gracious they seemed on the surface.
As the meal drew to a close, Ivan called her Valentina again. She gave him a gentle smile, and said, “I’m Tara, if you remember? Valentina is your daughter, isn’t she?”
Ivan seem to struggle with confusion for a moment before his expression cleared, and he nodded briskly. “Of course she is. Valentina’s away at school right now, but she’ll be home for summer vacation.”
“That will be exciting. Perhaps the tulips will bloom by then, if we manage to keep any alive, that is.”
Ivan chuckled, expression revealing nothing but contentment. The moment of confusion had evidently passed. “I shall see to them every day. My personal mission is to ensure they live, because I’m certain Valentina would enjoy them.”
“I’m looking forward to seeing them bloom myself.” Her heart stuttered at the realization that she would probably still be here when the bulbs became blossoms. This was her new reality, at least until she found a way to escape or could persuade Alexei to trust her not to reveal what he had done.
Unfortunately, she wasn’t confident she could stick with any agreement not to report his crime. After all, he had murdered someone, and he had to answer for that. She was uncomfortably aware that he had been way too perceptive of her personality and her need to do the right thing.
“You have to take a rain check on gardening tomorrow, Papa. You have a visit with Dr. Ting.”
Ivan frowned. “What do I need a doctor for? I’m in perfect health.”
Alexei and Lev wore similar expressions of concern, hastily hidden behind a mask of casualness. “It’s just for a checkup, Papa,” said Lev.
Alexei nodded. “You have to stay in perfect health, don’t you?”
Ivan grumbled, but eventually nodded. “I suppose.” He looked at Tara. “You’ll take me. My sons no longer allow me to drive, the ungrateful mongrels.” A twinkle in his eye gentled the comment, turning it from a grave insult to a sweet endearment. “So you will take me. I’d far rather go with you than with Yuri. He’s a quiet and grumpy man.”
From the corner of her eye, she saw Yuri stiffening against the wall where he leaned, and she barely smothered a giggle behind her napkin. The bodyguard look offended, but surely couldn’t deny the astuteness of the observation. Her mirth fled when she realized she would have to disappoint Ivan, and she opened her mouth to try to phrase a polite refusal.
Alexei surprised her by saying, “Yes, you should take Papa. He could use someone familiar to accompany him and keep him calm.”
She gave him a puzzled look, certain he must be toying with her. His expression revealed nothing to raise any alarms or lead her to believe he would snatch the opportunity from her at the last moment. Perhaps his father’s happiness was more important than his need to keep her confined to the estate. A bubble of excitement rose in her stomach when she realized there might be a
chance to escape tomorrow, if she could actually get off the grounds with Ivan.
Alexei’s lips twitched, and it was as though he’d read her body language and saw her rising excitement. “Of course, Yuri and Stepan will accompany you to keep you both safe.”
“Of course,” she said with a heavy note of irony. It dampened her enthusiasm, but couldn’t quite smother the spark of hope burning in her. It would be easier to escape from the two men when they were distracted in public, especially with Ivan along. It was her best chance of getting away from this place and escaping her captivity.
And escaping her captor. For some reason, that made her stomach clench, and she gripped her napkin tightly until the strange sensation had passed. That was what she wanted. It was for the best, and she should have no ambiguity about getting away from Alexei.
It was still a while before her stomach settled, and she was able to once again foster the spark of hopeful anticipation.
* * *
After dinner, once Ivan had decided to retire to his room, and Stepan was escorting Tara back to her room on the third floor, he drew Yuri to the side after trading a good night parting with his younger brother. Lev was off to do a circuit of the clubs, to make sure everything remained peaceful and that Vadim hadn’t continued disregarding his edict on ending human trafficking in their city. “Tomorrow, keep a close eye on her.”
Yuri nodded. “Of course, Lyosha. I won’t allow her to escape.”
Alexei nodded. “No, she can’t be allowed to escape, but I want you to give her the opportunity to try.”
Yuri’s eyes widened, and his shock was clear. “Pardon, Lyosha?” His voice was full of doubt.
Alexei nodded before stepping away from his byki. “I need to know how much I can trust her, and if she’s going to try to run, tomorrow is a good opportunity for her to do so. I want you and Stepan to give her the appearance that she has a chance to escape. Of course, you’re to intercede before she actually can do so, but I want your observations first. I need to know when, if, and how she’ll try to run.”
MAFIA: Dark Romance Collection Page 30