by Raven Scott
“I don’t know… that’s a level of scheming too far for me.” Sascha went back to his grading.
I flicked the burner off as, but the nagging in my head didn’t die down. Obviously, I was missing some key information. Grabbing the pot, I shuffled my way over to the stove to drain my pasta.
Sasha looked up at me. “Oppie… you don’t want to get caught off guard again, but speculating isn’t going to do you any good. Let’s have a nice dinner, and I’ll walk you home after.”
“My life is on the line, Sascha… I can’t get caught off guard again.”
Behind me, Sascha stood up, his chair scraping slightly on the hardwood.
Filling the pot with an inch or two of water, I closed my eyes when he wrapped his arms around me. His warmth seeped into my back, his own hands covering mine in quiet support.
“What aren’t you telling me, Ophelia? What is Makovich hanging over you to make you worry this way?”
Chapped lips brushed my neck and jaw, and a shaky sigh crowded my chest. Sascha’s questions echoed in my ears, insistent but not too insistent. “He told me… that if I wasn’t useful, he’d find someone who was.” Shame coated my tongue, sticking to the roof of my mouth as I frowned darkly. “He’s got no problem removing anyone that gets in his way. This is serious, Sascha. Aleksander would never let anyone from the families just leave.”
“Okay. I’ll handle this, you go sit.”
An ugly, black blotch engulfed my insides at my little, white lie. Slipping out from under Sascha, I walked the short distance to throw myself into his vacant chair. Covering my face with my hands, my fingers inched into my hair while my heart made a bid to squeeze out between my ribs.
“Earlier, at the Square,” Sasha spoke again. “I did manage to learn that Aleksander is replacing people with his siblings. Kiri wasn’t happy about being forced to work. What do you think that means?”
Propping my elbows on the table, I inhaled a deep breath through flared nostrils. My eyelids fluttered closed, but my mind didn’t stop whirring at a frantic pace. If Aleksander had been planning anything before the assassination attempt on his father, I surely wouldn’t know about it. That was worrying; Aleksander didn’t answer to anyone. Traditionally, the head families kept this kind of thing in check, but he obviously couldn’t care less about tradition. “I won’t really know anything until I get to my parents’ place in the morning. You know, Sascha… I’m really regretting the whole not eloping with you thing right now. Aleksander reaches far, but not as far as America. That’s the only thing I’m sure of right now. The last thing Makovich needs is to piss off Carlyle Santino.”
Sascha’s curious gaze settled on my shoulders.
I blustered a heavy sigh. My not-so-subtle change of subject worked, at least. “If we got married, I could get an American visa on your dual citizenship, and Aleksander wouldn’t be able to touch us there.”
“There’s someone Aleksander is afraid of?” Sasha asked.
Grunting lowly at the amused, disbelieving lilt in Sascha’s tone, I shook my head. Makovich was so, so careful when it came to America, and ‘why’ was one more thing I knew for certain. Santino was dangerous ‒ a psychopathic, world ‒ wide phenomena that took down the Italians in a single blow. Not that it was that hard… “If there’s one person in this world that Aleksander Makovich respects, it’s Carlyle Santino. My parents always tried to push Vyachaslav to do something about him, but the old man never gave in. I assume that Aleksander and Carlyle have an agreement of some sort that’s more beneficial to keep up than rip apart. Carlyle owns the Americas, Canada, England. Even Makovich doesn’t have that kind of influence. West of Iraq is his. While it’s great for drugs and stuff, Makovich isn’t a household name across the world like Santino. Carlyle Santino took down the Italian Mafia in one hit.”
“Oh… I wonder what it’d be like to be a fly on that wall,” Sasha mused.
I’m sure I’ll find out at some point. Vyachaslav was the target of an assassination attempt. At the very least, Carlyle Santino will come to scope out the stability of the Russians. I’m more concerned about why Vyachaslav is following Sascha…
There wasn’t much I could do about it right now; until I had more information, I was fairly powerless. And that sucked.
7
Ophelia
Gazing up at my parent’s humble home: a 3 story mansion with a really ugly fountain in the middle of the circular driveway… I reached to rub my face. I hadn’t even stepped inside, but I already felt frustrated. Tiredness hung my lids low, clinging to the backs of my eyes to throb lightly. As if a sleepless night wasn’t bad enough, my blood was a thick slurry of anxiety and fear of what I would find beyond the ornately carved front door.
My parents were stupid. That much was proven without a doubt. They were already in the ground in some nondescript grave, maybe somewhere on the property. Truth be told, I couldn’t care less at this point; what’s done is done and should stay done. No one could’ve stopped Aleksander Makovich, and no good could ever come from my lingering on the past.
But that past also affected my future far too directly for my comfort. Clenching my hands into tight fists, I scrunched up my nose as I started up the wide steps. My parents had modeled this house after Aleksander’s, as if that would somehow impress him. The opulence of every detail was excruciating, and the ache in my eyes intensified with each step. Grabbing the curved, brass handle, I sucked in a huge breath through flared nostrils and held it.
My heart beat wildly before I opened the door, and dead silence met me. All the staff had been laid off, but what shocked my system was the noiselessness left behind. The stillness— a barrette dropping on the tile would be as loud as an earthquake. Gazing around at the utter lack of presence, I wrapped my arms around myself tightly to rub my goosebumps off my biceps.
“Creepy.” My voice echoed, and a shiver raced up my spine to bristle the hairs on the back of my neck. This is like those haunted house shows Sascha likes to watch. Shutting the door behind me with a damning click of the lock, I gulped down the tightness in my throat. The tiles had a faint coat of dust from being completely undisturbed. Obviously, the cleaning staff hadn’t been here ‒ maybe since the day my family got stuck in the basement.
I took to the curved staircase to head upstairs, and surprise rose my brows from all the open doors. Peeking into the nearest room, my mouth dried at the mess left behind. Cori’s love for exotic, designer clothes was strewn all over the floor, a broken necklace dangling over the foot of her bed on rumpled, soft pink sheets. Wandering deeper into the room, I knelt down to pick up the gems left behind.
“Someone had a good time,” a voice spoke.
Jumping at the overly loud observation, I almost tripped over my own feet as I whipped around. My heart jumped into my throat, and my lungs stuttered underneath my palm.
The young, handsome man leaning on the bathroom door frame arched a brow quizzically at me.
I closed my eyes to stop the world from spinning.
He broke the silence again, “Let’s get to it, shall we? The cleaning ladies obviously cleaned out a lot more than just dust. No point in dwelling on it. It’s not like your family needs their Louboutin anymore.”
“Who are you?” I tensed at the glint in his eye.
Brown, styled hair swished as he pushed himself off the doorframe. “Name’s Lyov. I’ll be handling you for the time being.” Scorching eyes scanned me from top to bottom, and Lyov smirked. “You’re prettier than I imagined.”
My skin crawled in disgust. “Great, you’re more useless than I imagined.” My lip curled ugly, my eyes narrowing on Lyov’s stiffening form.
His face closed like a heavy book.
I exhaled the stale air trapped in my lungs. Thankfully, I’d worn looser jeans and a thicker shirt, knowing I was going to be hunched over all day. “Don’t think you can pull the daddy card with me. I’m beyond caring about you Makovich’s and your power trip bullshit. If you touch me at all,
I’ll kick your ass.”
“You’re threatening me?”
The incredulous lilt in Lyov’s tone told me I was right to threaten him. Boys like him….were slackers. The world was against them for any and all reason. I’d heard enough rumors about him to know not to give him an inch of slack.
Advancing on me as a cocky, irritated smirk stretched his lips, he reached to touch my hair only to stop short. “Are you sure it’s a good idea to threaten the person that holds your life in his hands?”
My eyelid twitched, gaze never wavering, and my knuckles tingled wildly. “Is your name ‘Aleksander’?”
Lyov went red faced at my mocking, eyes flashing brightly.
I turned my back on him to stalk out of my sister’s room. “Don’t overstep. Your last name may mean something, but you’re a useless piece of shit by yourself. This is my house now, and you answer to a higher power, which means you have none.” I surprised myself with my own words and actions, and I could feel it radiating from Lyov against my straight back. This is the only way to deal with a man like this. No matter how ugly I felt, I couldn’t lose control in front of anyone—especially someone like Lyov.
This kind of man… the kind who thought he was more important than he was. The one who thinks everyone owed him. The stereotypical rich kid, with his fabricated rich kid problems and lording attitude.
My blood boiled just thinking of spending the rest of the day having to deal with his incompetent ass. Shouldering open my father’s office door, I huffed loudly as I stalked to his desk. His computer was cold, a thin layer of dust on the screen. Everything and I mean everything was dusty. I pulled my hair back into a bun to drop into the chair. I swished side to side as I turned on the station.
Lyov shuffled into the room a few seconds later. Shoulders curled, hands shoved in his pockets, he was obviously upset…
Which was good…fuck him and his lofty attitude. There was nothing I hated more than people thinking they were better than anyone else just for being born. I really need to calm down… Jesus Christ. Closing my eyes tightly, I took a few, deep, stabilizing breaths. Twisting all the way around, I hoisted myself up to open the windows. The warm air of mid-Spring blasted through the office, and I braced my palms on the sill to savor the sensation. My irritation over the past 40 seconds flittered away on the breeze, coaxing a sigh from low in my chest. “I hope Sascha is having a better morning than I am,” mumbling softly, I ducked my head and rolled my shoulders free of the tension that gripped them.
This was only just beginning; I’d have to go through every single scrap of anything I could find. I’d have to get creative in the places I would need to search. Someone would have to come by and clear out everything in this house. If I was lucky, I could tear it down and sell the land by itself. After all, no one would want to buy such a gaudy, ugly house.
The computer’s bootup sound ended my moment of organization, and I lifted my head to take a huge breath. If I could just get through the next few days, everything would be fine. Depending on what I found out about my parents and the other families, I might even live a relatively stable life as compared to before.
As long as I was thorough and honest, Aleksander would have no reason to keep his nose against my armpit. As long as I did just a little better than I was expected to, I would stay alive. And I would be useful, no matter how terrible it sounded, I wasn’t going to marry anyone. If whatever I found today impacted my future with him, that was a problem for the future.
Lyov was sitting in the computer chair when I turned around, and an involuntary bark of a scoff escaped me.
He walked the seat around the desk, his eyes watching mine, like he was a child daring me on a technicality.
For a fraction of a second, red seeped into my vision. My mouth dried as something dark and ugly clawed at my throat. Honestly, it’d been so long since I’d directly involved myself with this business that these feelings were almost alien. This need to assert myself, to prove I meant business…Prove I wouldn’t take anything less than I deserved. “You’re pathetic, Lyov Makovich.” The pathetic part would be that Lyov was older than me, but he acted like a 6 year old.
He paused, the leather seat creaking when he stiffened.
I crossed my arms over my chest with a slight shake of my head. “You really enjoy being miserable and stupid, don’t you?” My voice was level, calm, not portraying any of the disgust I felt, only the pity. “Does acting like this give you a reason to hate everyone, so you don’t have to hate yourself? I guess it doesn’t matter. If you can’t do your job, I’ll call Big Brother and get you replaced. He’s been doing that a lot recently, right? I wonder what he’d do to you because you’re hindering my investigation of the people that tried to kill your daddy.” I poured all my disgust and haughtiness into my eyes.
He slowly stood up to turn on his heel and storm out.
The door slammed hard enough to make me wince, echoing off the wood trim and bookcase covering the left wall. “Cool.” Grabbing the chair, I wheeled it back to its spot to sit and type in my dad’s password. Squinting at the screen, a tiny smile tilted my lips. “That works, too.”
My smile didn’t last long, though. I didn’t like acting this way, being hurtful to others because it was how I had to be. Nothing was worse than having a stranger talk down to me. Nothing was worse than telling someone I didn’t know opinions based on a minute of interaction. Granted, Lyov was an extreme baby of a man, but that gross taste in my mouth was still intense.
8
Sascha
My phone buzzed for the 50th time in about as many minutes, and I sat down to fish it out of my briefcase. I was fairly certain Ophelia wasn’t having an emergency because of the regularity of the texts. Whenever she was embroiled in her work, she’d blow up my phone just to express whatever she was feeling.
I thought it was cute, and I liked how she didn’t expect an answer, especially when I was teaching.
“Professor Matheson?”
Pausing unlocking my screen, I glanced up under furrowed brows at that familiar but not too familiar voice.
Malda stood, waiting, watching me expectantly. “Can I have a moment?”
I turned my phone against my leg. “You’re not one of my students, Malda.”
She rolled her eyes at me, gesturing to my office door behind me with a wave of her hand.
I only arched a brow, trying fruitlessly to hide my scowl. “What can I help you with? I already had a one sided conversation this week.”
“With Kiri, yes I know. It won’t be happening again. I’m not here as your student. We need to talk and I thought you’d want to do that privately.”
I almost groaned aloud at this little tidbit of infuriating information. Malda was so grumpy that it rubbed off on me immediately. I stood up to slide my phone into my pocket.
“Have you talked to Ophelia this morning?” she asked.
“I was about to text her, why? Is this going to be an everyday thing?” Walking into my office, I ground my teeth as my phone continued to vibrate in my pocket. “To what do I owe the nuisance?”
Malda nodded her business-slash-professional attire seemingly out of place at university. “Yesterday, you said you’d go after Vyachaslav’s daughters if you did have a slimy motive, and one happens to text you the moment I leave. Why did you agree to that?”
My heart nearly stopped at that casual admittance, and my eyes narrowed on Malda. “I assume that whatever you did to my phone lets you record conversations… So you know that she talked at me.” She must’ve cloned my phone yesterday while we were talking. Reaching to scratch my beard, I sat on the edge of my desk to cross my arms over my chest. “I’m not in a position to deny anything creepy, uncertain, or vague. Oppie’s more than capable of handling herself, but any help I can give her is more than she’s got.”
“You expect me to believe your phone has been going on with variations of ‘oh my god’ with every different kind of shock emoji for the past hour as a si
gn she can handle herself?” Malda glared at me. “The only thing it proves is she’s smart enough not to disclose details via text. I’m not saying you’re not just the good guy into chicks half your age that you claim to be, Sascha…. It’s just that I don’t believe you.”
Rolling my jaw, I only bopped my head at this, since I’d have to figure out this phone situation now. “Four years… it’ll take you about that long to figure out I’m not lying.”
She frowned at the idea of spending that long tailing me, but it served her right.
I shook my head. “Do you know why I put up with knowing all the things I shouldn’t know about, Malda? Why I put up with you, and Aleksander, and Vyachaslav…all of it? Because Ophelia is a wonderful, beautiful woman, and I was born 15 years too early. Everything goes on around her, she’s the calm eye in a raging hurricane.”
“Very philosophical way to put it.” Malda sounded very unimpressed.
It was what I truly thought. If only my brother and I had been born opposite, the age difference between Ophelia and I wouldn’t matter.
“Sascha. You haven’t given me anything to doubt how much you care purely for Ophelia, and that’s the problem. You have a perfect relationship and that is troubling.”
“We’re too good for each other, is what you’re saying?” Covering my mouth to hide my smirk, I couldn’t hide the scoff escaping from my nose. “There’s got to be something wrong with us, and you’ve been sent because Vyachaslav can’t find it otherwise. I’m not going to air our dirty laundry to you.”