Where the Sun Hides (Seasons of Betrayal #1)

by Bethany-Kris

  “Have you seen the Russian since the club incident?” her father asked.

  Violet hesitated before answering. Her father’s sharp eye looked her over, searching for any proof that she was about to lie. Her encounter just a couple of days before with Kaz Markovic had been nothing more than chance. She didn’t think he was purposely seeking her out, and in fact, she hadn’t even noticed his flashy car parked anywhere outside of the shop before she went in that day. Then again, her driver had been in a fit over the smothering traffic and just wanted to find a place to park, so maybe that was why they hadn’t noticed him.

  While she didn’t understand why the man would risk going so far into Brooklyn just for the sake of shopping for his sisters’ birthday, she wasn’t going to get him in trouble for doing so.

  “No,” Violet said quietly. “I haven’t seen him or anyone else from Brighton Beach.”

  Alberto’s lips pursed, and Violet recognized the action immediately. It was her father’s way of considering her words, and whether or not he wanted to believe them.

  Before the club incident, he might have taken her words as instant truth with no questions asked. Now, he was not as forgiving.

  Violet didn’t drop her father’s gaze, knowing that if she did, he would find her lies.

  Alberto was the first to look away. “I worry, that’s all.”

  “I was the one who went into their space, not the other way around,” Violet replied. “It was a mistake, and they seemed to understand that.”

  “Russians seem like they understand a lot of things.” Her father scoffed loudly. “Then they turn on you the first chance they can. You can’t trust them, Violet. Don’t you understand that?”

  She nodded, but she didn’t entirely believe him.

  Kaz didn’t seem untrustworthy.

  Not when he looked at her.

  Not when he kissed her hand, and smiled like he had.

  Violet ignored the tightening sensation in her throat, and the heat dripping down her spine all of the sudden. She certainly understood her interest in the Russian, as far as that went. Not only was he seemingly charming and good-looking—extremely so—he was also entirely off-limits.

  She would have to be stupid and blind not to be a little curious.

  “What would happen if they did?” she dared to ask quietly.

  Alberto raised a single brow high. “Did what, ragazza?”

  “Came further into Brooklyn, or beyond Brighton.”

  “Some of them often do,” Alberto said offhandedly, almost like it didn’t matter at all.

  Violet’s brow furrowed. “But—”

  “You’re a girl, you see, so you have no need to be involved with the affairs of men and their deals. I simply made sure as you grew up that you knew where my limits and lines were for you to follow and not cross, Violet. As far as the Russians go, we often allow them into Brooklyn beyond just Brighton Beach. We turn cheek to them being there, because they are neither doing business, nor creating business for themselves. And therefore, not encroaching on our business. Whatever the Russians demand of their people as far as territory goes, I cannot say.”

  “Is that why you always warn me to stay out of the lower parts of Brooklyn?”

  “Exactly why.”

  Violet fingered the pages of her textbook. She didn’t really understand what the Russians did for business, and she didn’t think that asking her father would get her any answers. She wasn’t even entirely sure she understood what her father’s Cosa Nostra did to make money.

  Girls weren’t allowed to know.

  “Vasily Markovic,” Alberto started to say.

  Violet’s head snapped back up at the surname, curiosity instantly simmering through her blood. She knew the name, and who the man was, but she decided to play stupid for her father’s benefit. “Who is that exactly?”

  “The Russian boss. He has a daughter that lives in the upper part of Brooklyn. I overlook her residence because she has no real connection to her father’s business, and she is simply working to build her brand. Vera is her name; she’s quite a successful interior designer. If she weren’t Russian, your mother might have had her come in to design that new studio she wants. Apparently, the woman has a good eye for spaces.”

  Vera.

  That meant Kaz had at least three sisters, and a brother. Violet filed that information away with the rest of the little bit she knew about him.

  It wasn't much.

  She shouldn't want to know anything about the man at all. Not with who he was, the people he was affiliated with, never mind her father’s very obvious dislike of the whole bunch.

  Yet she did.

  She still did.

  “But Manhattan,” her father continued, drawing Violet out of her thoughts. “Amityville, even. Those places are off-limits to the Russians entirely. No matter who they are, or how docile they seem.”

  “I haven’t seen them again,” Violet repeated, hoping her father believed her.

  “I only want to keep you safe, Violet.”

  “I know, Daddy. And I’m doing what you want.”

  “I’m aware.” Alberto sighed, pushing up from his desk. He reached over into a glass bowl and pulled a pair of familiar keys from it. “I have something for you.”

  Violet tried not to smile at the sight of her car keys. “Okay.”

  “I don’t like not trusting you, dolcezza. But you’ve done well for the last little while, and it leads me to think that maybe the club incident was just bad judgement on your part. So these,” he said, shaking the keys, “... are conditional.”

  She dropped her textbook in her lap in just enough time to catch the keys when her father tossed them at her.

  “How so?” Violet asked.

  “Manhattan is a free zone for you. You can drive yourself wherever you please. Brooklyn is not. I expect to you have Gee drive you, or follow you, depending on where you’re planning to go. Lower Brooklyn is still—”

  “Off-limits, I know,” she interrupted quickly. “Anything else?”

  She was just happy to have a little bit of freedom and her keys back.

  “Yes, there is,” Alberto said, chuckling. He quickly sobered. “As much as I want to trust you, I can’t entirely do that without feeling like you might pull the wool over my eyes in some way, Violet. Once you’ve treated me like a fool, I won’t give you the chance to do me wrong again.”

  Violet swallowed back her denial, knowing it wouldn’t help.

  “To be sure you’re following my rules, I will have Gee pick you up from wherever you are whenever I deem it suitable for him to do so. I will call you, and you will answer, no matter what. Depending on where you are to where he is, you will have that amount of time to be ready for him to pick you up, and drive you to … whatever. Dinner, one of your mother’s showings, or something else.”

  Jesus.

  That essentially meant Violet was still chained down depending on her father’s demands and schedules. And she wouldn’t exactly be able to lie, either. If she said she was somewhere else, somewhere she was allowed to be, and Gee showed up to get her but she wasn’t there … it wouldn’t end well.

  Still, she had her keys.

  And her father had actually spoken to her after ignoring her for weeks.

  It was something.

  Violet chose not to question it.

  Violet found her brother perched on the kitchen counter, chatting away to their mother as Andrea checked on the progress of a soup she was cooking.

  “Not yet,” her mother said. “Give it another year, Carmine. My God. You’re still young.”

  Violet held off from entering the kitchen completely. She was just out of their view, but she could see them. If there was one thing Violet never understood, it was the closeness her brother and mother seemed to share. Growing up, her mother had always felt a little distant to her in most ways. Andrea never had time to feed into her daughter’s whims, never mind indulging Violet’s many games and quirks.


  That had always landed on her father.

  Alberto hadn’t seemed to mind.

  But it did leave a lasting effect on the relationship between Violet and her mother. She always saw the woman as cold and unapproachable. She felt like her mother wouldn’t care about her problems or thoughts. It wasn’t like Andrea gave her the impression that she wanted to know those things about Violet.

  And then there was Carmine.

  Andrea, quite literally, doted on her son constantly. Despite the fact that Carmine was twenty-seven and more than capable of handling his own business, their mother made sure to visit his apartment several times a week to pick up after her son and make sure his fridge was full of food. As children, Andrea would be quick to take Carmine with her on her many trips in her rising career as a clothing designer, while she left her daughter at home with her father.

  It was just … an entirely different dynamic.

  Violet wasn’t jealous. She had a close relationship with her father, after all. Maybe even closer than the one Carmine shared with Alberto. But the same thought always lingered in the back of her mind whenever she saw her mother and brother together: What had been so different about her as a child that her mother couldn’t even be bothered to try?

  “There’s just no point in waiting, Ma,” Carmine said.

  Andrea reached over the counter and cupped her son’s cheek in her palm. “You’re young. Do you really want to settle yourself with a woman and babies right now?”

  Carmine chuckled. “I can still have my fun when I’m married.”

  “Carmine.”

  “What?” Carmine flashed a smile. “I’ve waited too long as it is. I’m not going to wait anymore for the perfect woman who suits what you want me to have, Ma. I just need an appropriate enough wife.”

  Andrea scowled. “For your father, you mean.”

  “And for me. I have waited too long.”

  Dropping her hand from her son’s face, Andrea grabbed a dishtowel and wiped at the counter. “What does your father think of this?”

  “He thinks she’s appropriate.”

  There was that word again.

  Appropriate.

  Like the only way a woman could possibly be worthy enough was if she met a certain set of standards determined by those around her. It irritated Violet in a way she couldn’t explain.

  “But you don’t love her,” Andrea said.

  “I don’t have to, Ma.” Carmine pushed off the counter, and grabbed an apple from the fruit tree. “I just need the ring and the license.”

  “I don’t like this.”

  “You like Nicole,” Carmine pressed.

  Well, Violet figured her friend would be happy at least. Carmine was finally going to settle Nicole into some kind of permanent relationship, even if he had no intention of being committed to it. It wasn’t like Nicole didn’t already know Carmine was a manwhore in every sense of the word.

  “I liked what she was good for,” Andrea muttered. “And you know exactly what you used the girl for. I know what you’re doing, son. You’re trying to butter me up to get your grandmother’s engagement ring for Nicole, and I won’t give it to you. Buy her one, for all I give a damn. She’s not having my mother’s.”

  Carmine scowled at his mother before turning on his heel and storming toward the entry of the kitchen. To hide the fact that she had been eavesdropping on the conversation, Violet stepped into the space at the same time her brother was just about to leave. He was too pissed off to care she was there if the way he brushed past her with a grumble and a glare was any indication.

  Andrea didn’t give Violet a second look either before she was back at the stove, tending the soup again.

  “I wanted to say goodbye before I left,” Violet said.

  Her mother waved a hand over her shoulder, and nothing else.

  Violet wasn’t surprised. It probably didn’t help that her mother was now in a mood over Carmine’s choices regarding marriage. Andrea wasn't going to be able to dote on her son like she did now once he was a married man.

  “All right, bye, Ma,” Violet called over her shoulder as she turned to leave.

  “Violet, wait,” Andrea said.

  She stopped. “Yeah?”

  “I forgot to tell you earlier, but I left a few dresses from my new collection upstairs in my studio office. I know your friends liked them, so I kept them for you to have.”

  Violet was shocked her mother had even cared enough to do that. “Okay, thanks.”

  Andrea simply waved her off again.

  Wanting to get back to Manhattan before the sky started to darken, Violet quickly made her way back through the mansion and up to the wing where her father’s and mother’s offices were located. She found the dress bags her mother mentioned easily enough, and slung them around her arm. She was just leaving the studio when she realized she had also forgotten her textbook in Alberto’s office.

  Violet shifted the few dress bags to her other arm as she stopped just outside of her father’s office. The doors had been open all the way earlier when she left, but now they were closed except for a couple of inches. She could clearly hear her father and brother talking inside.

  “I can’t make your mother give you the ring,” Alberto said, almost sardonically.

  “I know you can, Papa.”

  “It’s her ring to do with what she wants. It didn’t come from my family. Do you want my family’s ring? I have that one.”

  Carmine grunted something unintelligible.

  “She’s spoiled you rotten, and that is exactly the problem,” Alberto said with no sympathy in his tone. “She denies you one thing and you go on a rampage. Did you consider that’s why she did it?”

  “I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

  “You don’t want to hear the truth, Carmine.”

  “No, we have better things to discuss.”

  “Indulge me,” Alberto said, sounding bored all of the sudden.

  “The Russians.”

  “It’s handled.”

  “Then why don’t you sound pleased with that fact?” Carmine asked.

  Alberto sighed heavily. “I worry about your sister, that’s all. She liked the one all those years ago—made fast friends with him in a very short amount of time. I don’t need that happening again.”

  Violet’s brow furrowed. She remembered Kaz saying they had met once before, but she hadn’t believed him. Her father wouldn’t mingle with Russians, not guessing by the way he so easily dismissed and insulted them every chance he could.

  But here Alberto was, saying Violet had met Kaz when they were children.

  “Do you think the Russian boss will keep his end of the deal?” Carmine asked. “It’s been years. He could decide with recent events that it’s just not worth the peace of mind, anymore.”

  Alberto scoffed loudly. “Peace of mind, Carmine? My God, son, you are a fool. You walk around in a bubble of your own making half of the time, believing that because of who you are, the rest of your life will be an easy road to travel. There is no such thing as peace of mind here, and that meeting brought neither me, nor Vasily Markovic, any peace, either.”

  “Didn’t it?” Carmine asked. “The fighting stopped.”

  “For a price,” Alberto muttered.

  What price was that?

  Inside, Violet knew she was too curious about something that clearly wasn’t her business to begin with. Still, she moved a little closer to the doors, wanting to hear every little word if her brother and father decided to talk quieter.

  “My point,” Alberto said, “is that I worry about your sister. When she finds something she likes—someone—she trusts them too easily. She has too many friends as it is that I don’t approve of.”

  “You could fix the problem by getting rid of it altogether.”

  Violet’s heart stopped for a split second.

  It only lasted as long as her father’s silence.

  Alberto barked out another one of his bitter laughs. “
See, there you go again, Carmine. You shoot off at the mouth like you understand how this works, like there will be no consequences for your rash decisions. No, I cannot justify the war and bloodshed it would cause me if I killed the son of Vasily Markovic.”

  “Papa—”

  “Once again, son, you managed to prove to me in very few words how unprepared you are for a position you think belongs to you, simply because you were born a boy.”

  Ouch.

  Even Violet flinched at that.

  Clearly she wasn’t the only one who had disappointed their father lately.

  “What about Franco?” Carmine demanded.

  “What about your foolish friend?”

  “He deserves some kind of retribution for what happened.”

  Something smacked against something hard, making it echo out to Violet’s spot in the hallway. “Goddammit, I am not getting into this again. I said no to that. The answer is no. If that enforcer defies me simply because he is your friend and he thinks he can get away with it, I will cut his fucking heart out.”

  Violet had no idea what her father was talking about, but she decided in that moment her textbook could wait. She didn’t want to be caught listening, and she really didn’t want to hear anything else.

  She couldn’t get out of the mansion fast enough.

  “You look wonderful,” Alberto praised, taking Violet’s hand as she approached him. “I see you managed to find a dress.”

  Violet smiled, and pretended like there wasn’t a hell of a lot of eyes watching her at that moment. The long stage meant for the runway and models was lined on either side by six rows of seats from one side to the other. The ballroom had been converted for the fashion show’s use. Black and chrome accents hung from the ceiling. Music pumped through the place courtesy of the high-profile DJ set up near the entrance of the runway where the models would come out of. Media people, flashing their badges and cameras to keep out of the hands of security, bombarded the venue from every angle.