Chapter 39 Episode 39

Yulian’s lips snap shut. I know I’ve hurt him. It isn’t the first time. He’s learned to roll with the punches, though. And he doesn’t wait for an apology. He knows one isn’t coming. “Heard any chatter lately?” I ask, if only to smooth things over a little bit. He shakes his head. “Not much. Everything seems to have settled.” When did my little brother get so level-headed? So cautious? Maybe I’m not giving him enough credit. In my head, he’s still the same snot-nosed ten-year-old who cried every time he lost a fight to me. “You think I still need to watch Rodion?” “Yes,” he says firmly. “The man hasn’t let her death go.” I shake my head. “Say what you want about the old bastard, but he loved Marina. He may have been the only person to truly love her.” “That’s harsh. She was quite charming when she wanted to be,” Yulian reminds me. “She was seductive,” I growl. “There is a difference. She could win over any man with just a smile. But men are easily won.” “I liked her at one point,” Yulian reminds me. “Do you remember?” “Of course I do. You were the one in there defending her when s**t went south.” He has the grace to look embarrassed. “It was a good match. I wanted it to work. And I knew how stubborn you could be.” “In terms of stubbornness if nothing else, it was a very good match indeed.” “Which is exactly why everyone thought it would work.” “Everyone thought wrong.” I scoff. “She wanted too much from me.” “She wanted your love,” Yulian murmurs. For a moment, it sounds like an accusation. Then I realize I’m just projecting. Because deep down, I know the truth. And the truth is, I’m the reason she spun out. I’m the reason she broke. Bit by bit, part by part. But it would serve no purpose admitting that now. She’s dead and there’s no bringing her back. “She wanted too much,” I repeat, quieter this time. “What makes you think Jessa will be any different?” I glance at him, wondering why the feisty chef has made such an impression on him. “The difference is that I won’t be marrying her. I’ll throw her back into her mundane life the moment she starts to bore me.” The words taste strange coming out. Like I’m reading a script rather than committing to the scene. But Yulian is too wrapped up in his thoughts to notice. “I told her as much,” he muses out loud. “That night, when you were busy with Rodion… we talked.” He’s waiting for me to ask a follow-up question, but when I don’t, he supplies the answer anyway. “She looked disappointed. A little heartbroken, actually.” “I doubt that. You’ve always had a flare for the dramatics.” He smiles. “And you’ve always been an expert at hiding how you feel. But I’ve known you my whole life, big brother. You can’t hide from me.” “What were you doing talking to Jessa anyway?” He shrugs. “I was stepping out to smoke a cigarette and she followed me onto the balcony. Probably looking for you. I figured you wouldn’t want to be disturbed.” I nod and reach for my drink. Was she really looking for me? Yulian has a habit of conflating the truth to serve what he calls a “higher purpose.” But really, he just likes to f**k with people. It’s the one iota of control this life offers him, so he does it whenever he feels he can get away with it. “I heard about the job you offered her,” he says, pushing the conversation along. “Aren’t you concerned?” “What do I have to be concerned about?” “She already knows more than she should. What if she finds out more?” “Like the real truth of your marriage with Marina? Like the events that led up to her… suicide.” I hate that he hesitates over the word, as though he’s not sure if it’s even appropriate. But he knows he’s annoyed me and he doesn’t want to push the topic. “How would she find out?” I ask. “Unless someone told her.” Yulian shakes his head. “That’s your problem, you know. You seem to forget that, as perfect as you may be, the rest of us mortals are fallible. We make mistakes, even where you’re concerned.” “None of them will breathe a word about what happened,” I reiterate. Yulian exhales with exasperation. “Okay then. What about the tapes? If you remember correctly, you record every official meeting you have on the premises.” “Those tapes are kept in a locked drawer in a locked cupboard in a locked room. And even if everything was out in the open, she doesn’t know there’s anything to find. She’ll be confined to one part of the house.” Yulian nods, seemingly reassured. “I suppose you’ve thought it all through.” “The fact that you’re surprised is insulting.” He offers only an apologetic smile. I don’t mind. At last, the silence stretches on long enough for me to collect my thoughts. The dinner was a success. It strengthened ties and reinforced old alliances. It also served as a reminder to any who’d been stupid enough to forget: the might of the Stepanov Bratva cannot be so easily overlooked. Rodion showed up late, but he showed up. He paid homage. That’s all I needed. “What do you think Papa would say if he were here?” Yulian asks suddenly, breaking the silence. I glare at him. “I thought we were done talking.” He grins sheepishly at me. “Sometimes, I wonder. That’s all.” “I don’t have to wonder. I know what he would say.” “‘You’re doing everything all wrong.’” Yulian purses up his lips. “You think Papa was hard on you? He gave you everything. His entire legacy.” “And if you were the firstborn, he’d have done the same. It had nothing to do with his opinion of me.” “He respected you. Even when we were boys, he looked at you differently.” “Is that what you saw?” “How many times do I have to tell you that I notice things?” He waves a hand in disgust. “For f**k’s sake, you’re the only don in history who doesn’t take a single ounce of pleasure from his position.” “You want me to drink and indulge and f**k my way through life?” “It wouldn’t hurt. Maybe you’d smile more.” I shake my head. “I never trust people who smile too much. They look like idiots.” His smile drops into a glare when he realizes it’s him I’m talking about. “Christ, you’re such an asshole, Anton. I have no idea why every woman fawns all over you.” “Every woman except her,” I mutter without thinking. He smirks at me. “It’s weirdly attractive, isn’t it? When women don’t give a s**t? Especially when they should. Does she already have you p***y-whipped?” “Curious to see how long it’ll last.” “Is that the real reason behind the job offer?” “Maybe this is my way of having some fun. Ever thought of that?” He sighs. “You’re such a disappointment.” “You want to be don instead?” I ask, chuckling. He shrugs. “Wouldn’t mind a crack at it, to be honest. I think I’d be pretty great.” “Okay, I’ll bite. What would you do in my position?” I ask. “What would you do about Rodion?” “Well, first of all, I would have made sure his daughter was happy,” he says. “And I would have gotten his Bratva under my control before I offed the wife.” He freezes for a moment, realizing what he’s just said. “I mean… not that you—” “Shut up,” I growl. “Just go.” He gives me an apologetic smile, but he knows that I’m serious. He leaves me, but the relative peace I felt all morning is nonexistent now. Gritting my teeth, I go back inside to the sitting room and divert to the fully stocked bar. There used to be a huge photograph of Marina and me hanging over the mantel. It was removed days after her funeral at my request. “What should I do with it?” Lev had asked me. “Destroy it,” I told him. “I never want to lay eyes on it again. Burn it, shred it, mail it to Siberia with no return address. Bury it with her, for all I f*****g care.” I’m pretty sure a few of the maids heard that line. But I didn’t give a s**t. What was I supposed to do? Weep at her grave and pretend like I was in mourning? I’m no f*****g hypocrite. I won’t deny that Jessa shares certain similarities with Marina. Marina was a beauty. There was a time when I appreciated that beauty. Just like I appreciate Jessa’s now. But the two women couldn’t be more different in the ways that truly matter. Jessa has fire. Marina was fiery and passionate, yes, but she was also demanding, controlling, and cruel. She was manipulative at the best of times. And she had expectations in her head that no one could live up to. All that is verifiably true. And yet there’s a tiny voice inside my head that talks back. You weren’t so innocent yourself. Regret twinges uncomfortably in the back of my head. That day will always be planted in my memory. If I could carve it from my brain, I would. But what’s done is gone. I lost myself to anger. I didn’t care about who I hurt in the process. It was worth it at the time. It felt worth it at the time, at least.