Chapter 38 Episode 38

Yulian pulls out a pack of cigarettes and offers me one. I decline, so he lights up. Smoke stings my nostrils, but I’m too invested in this conversation to walk away now. It’s a morbid curiosity, like rubbernecking at a deadly car accident on the side of the road, but I can’t stop, despite the last scraps of my sense of self-preservation screaming at me to run as far away from this family as I can. “How did he find out that she was dead?” I ask, hoping I’m not being too obvious. My eyes go wide. “Really?” Yulian nods, his eyes turning sad. “I found her body right outside the boundaries of Anton’s property.” “It’s strange what death does to a person. All her beauty… it had turned dark. Like some unholy beast had possessed her in her final moments. She still looked like her, but it wasn’t Marina anymore.” “How did Anton react when you told him?” “Honestly?” he asks. “He was relieved.” I’m getting colder by the minute. I may never feel truly warm again. “He was relieved his wife was dead?” He tuts and crosses his arms over his chest. “Well, well, well. Look at you judging all of us.” “You’re not the one on trial.” “Aren’t I? Aren’t we all in Jessa’s little mental courtroom?” he says. He taps the side of my head and says in a high-pitched mocking voice, “Guilty. Guilty. Guilty. Off with their heads!” I cringe away from him, annoyed and more than a little creeped out. “I’m not judging anyone,” I say, hoping I sound convincing. “I just want to survive.” He laughs bitterly. “Don’t we all?” “If you’re looking for sympathy, keep looking. You won’t find any here,” I inform him. “Don’t be fooled, Jessa. Not everyone who lives this life is thriving. Not all that glitters is gold.” His words feel like they come with extra weight. Things I can’t see, lurking just below the surface. Like staring at a foreign language and knowing that it means something, if only I could figure out what. “If I return his phone, will he really leave me alone?” I blink. “I’m gonna need a little more reassurance than that.” “If you’re looking for reassurance, keep looking,” he says, throwing my own words back in my face. “He’s got a taste of you now. He might just let you go once he’s bored of it and needs fresh meat.” I shiver at his crudeness and take a reflexive step back. “Is that really how men like you think about women?” I shake my head. “You can’t fool me, Yulian. You can’t make me forget what I heard when I walked in here.” “And what was that?” he asks cautiously. “A man who cares about a woman,” I assert. “A man who has genuine feelings for another person and expects nothing more than her love in return.” His expression turns sour, but I can only laugh, because I’m right. “You think that makes you look bad?” I press. “That’s your whole damn problem, Yulian. In my eyes, it only makes you more of a man.” He watches me carefully, and then he nods, almost to himself. “It would be a shame.” “To lose you to the underworld,” he says. “You don’t belong here, Jessa. You deserve a nice, normal life.” He nods. “Then give my brother back his phone and you can have it.” I shake my head. “Anton’s lucky to have you.” “Tell him that next time.” “I’m hoping there won’t be a next time.” He smiles. “Wishful thinking, little lamb.” “Speaking of the lion, where is he?” “Gone,” Yulian says. “I put him in a car myself not too long ago.” I nod as I angle my body towards the door. I’m done with this conversation, with these people. I want to go to bed and sleep forever. “One more thing, Jessa,” he calls after me. I stop in place but I don’t turn around. “Yeah?” I say over my shoulder. “Would it make a difference to you to know that he got into the car with Jhené Torino?” My body gives me away. I go rigid. But I pretend like I’m unaffected by the information. “Why would it make a difference to me?” “If you’re smart, you’ll pretend it doesn’t matter to you at all. Because lambs that fall in love with lions get eaten.” I don’t want him to see my goosebumps. Or my fear. So without deigning to reply, I turn and walk away as quickly as I can. I’m on autopilot, my feet carrying me who-the-f**k-knows where. I don’t even know how I get out of the Plaza, but when I look around again, I’m standing on the curb, watching cars whisk by. It’s almost three in the morning. Getting a cab is going to be a b***h and it’s too far to walk home. So, because I need comfort more than anything else right now, I call the one person I know will drag himself out of bed at three in the morning, even when he’s mad at me. Fifteen minutes later, Chris pulls to a stop in front of me. His eyes are still puffy with sleep. My heart clenches when I see him. I get into the passenger seat, lean over, and envelop him in a desperate hug. He must sense my fear, because he strokes the back of my head and says, “Jesus, Jessa. Are you okay?” I don’t tell him about what happened tonight. I don’t tell him that Anton was the one who made sure to hire me, just so he could get me fired. I forget the details and focus on the bigger picture. “I think you’re right,” I whisper into his warm chest. “I should give the phone back.” Chris sighs with relief. “Thank f**k. This will all be over soon.” “The garden looks nice,” Yulian says, looking out over the expanse of green. It’s been expertly maintained by the absurdly large group of gardeners I keep on staff. “Lilies are really popping this year.” I raise an eyebrow as I turn to my younger brother. “Since when do you notice s**t like that?” He shrugs. “I notice things. Sue me. You got Papa’s gene of only giving a s**t about world domination.” “Don’t be so sensitive,” I laugh, shoving him in the shoulder. “You make it way too easy to ruffle your feathers.” Yulian rolls his eyes. “And you’re supposed to be the mature one.” “No, I was expected to be the mature one. There’s a difference.” He asks the question with a smile, same as how he does everything, but I can see the seriousness behind it. I look away. “I don’t hate him. He was my father as much as yours.” “But he tried to control me. You’d resent him, too.” “Even now?” he asks. “No one controls you anymore.” “Doesn’t stop everyone from trying.” Yulian throws me an incredulous look. “Please. You’re too damn stubborn to even be worth the attempt. I’m speaking from experience here.” I laugh. “There have to be some perks to being don.” There’s a brief pause before he lobs the next grenade. “Is Jessa Gilmore one of those perks?” I sigh. I figured we’d end up on this topic sooner or later. As it turns out, it’s sooner. “Do you like her, brother?” I ask pointedly. “Do I even have the option?” Yulian asks. “You’ve set your sights on her. I assumed she was off-limits to me.” I shrug. “That’s never deterred you before.” Yulian just rolls his eyes. “It doesn’t matter either way. The girl is into you.” “It’s not an assumption,” Yulian says. “I’ve spoken to her enough now to be able to tell. I don’t know how far her feelings run, but she likes you. More than she knows.” “Must have been some conversation.” “Like I said, I notice things.” He shoots me one of his most charming smiles. “And you know I’ve got a way with women.” “Oh, I’ve got more talents,” he says confidently. “I’m just waiting for the right moment to unveil them.” I snort. “I won’t hold my breath.” He rolls his eyes again and exhales in a huff. “How worried are you about Rodion?” “Not at all,” I say. “The man won’t move against me. I’m more sure of that now that I’ve met with him.” “Wary,” I admit. “He doesn’t want things to escalate.” “But does that mean you will inherit the Ivanov Bratva?” “I’ll get it one way or the other,” I reason. “I don’t need the old man to make a ceremony of it. Once he’s no more, his Bratva will break into factions. A large part of them will fall in line behind me.” “If they don’t choose me right off the bat, I have no interest in bringing them into the fold at all.” “Manpower is one thing,” he says. “What about the Ivanovs’ assets? Investments? Businesses?” “I’ll buy them out. The ones worth buying, that is. The rest can go to hell.” Yulian looks at me with clear shock. “You would go through all that trouble when you could simply get it on a platter?” “A platter?” I repeat. “Is that what you would call sucking up to a man who thinks I murdered his daughter?” “You and I have very different definitions of what certain costs represent,” I snap. “My pride is not for sale.”