“Everything is my business,” I point out. “Especially since you live in my house.”
Her jaw goes rigid. I know she hates when I point that out. “Is this your way of asking me to leave?”
“Not at all. You’re welcome here, but that means you have a rulebook to follow.”
“Ah,” she says. “So your wife is not the only one under your thumb, then. It extends to all the women in your life.”
“Funny you should bring up my wife. I was told you visited her this morning.”
“I did.”
“You didn’t have my permission.”
“I didn’t think I needed it.”
“You need my permission for everything,” I growl. “I thought that was understood.”
She takes a deep breath and sets her jaw stubbornly. “I have no place in your Bratva, Aleksandr. My opinion no longer matters and I have accepted that. So I’m trying to live a life outside of it.”
“That’s precisely what I’m afraid of.”
“Why?” she demands. “What do you take me for?”
“A woman desperate for attention.”
She rears back as though I’ve slapped her. “For God’s sake, my son, what have I done to deserve this kind of treatment?”
“I am not singling you out,” I tell her. “This is not personal. I have a Bratva to protect. I know you know a lot about that.”
“Not recently.”
“You know enough,” I hiss. “I don’t want you fraternizing with people who can use the information you give them against me.”
“I am not some doe-eyed idiot,” she hisses right back. “I know what to say and what not to. And it might shock you to know that I don’t talk about you at all.”
I smirk in obvious disbelief. “Is that a fact?”
“Are you really going to begrudge me a personal life?”
“Is there someone special I should know about?” I ask innocently.
“Perhaps,” she says after a moment’s hesitation. “But it’s too early to tell.”
“Does he know who you are? Who you really are?”
“He knows only that I come from a rich family,” she says.
“That’s an understatement.”
“I could correct that notion, but you don’t want me to talk about the family or the Bratva. I thought we just covered that ground.”
“The family and the Bratva are one and the same,” I remind her.
“Of course,” she sighs. “But I am not really a part of either one, am I?”
“That depends on you.”
“No,” she says. “That depends on you.”
I leave that alone. Mostly because I can’t in good faith deny it. It’s been easier having my mother out of things.
“I won’t stand in the way of your social life,” I say. “I just expect you to be careful about who you associate with. The FBI may be quiet now, but it’s only been a few days. We can’t know for sure if they’ve really dropped the investigation yet.”
“I understand.”
“Good,” I say. “Just out of curiosity, does this new man know about your… situation?”
She purses her lips. She hates when I bring it up, and despite my usual irreverence, I try not to for that reason.
But this time, it merits asking.
“He knows,” she answers softly. “And he doesn’t care.”
I smile. “Of course not. Does his wife know about you, though?”
Her eyes go cold instantly. “Goodnight, son.”
She bustles out. The door snaps shut. I grab my drink and down it in one gulp. When I’m done, I wait only long enough to make sure I won’t bump into my mother again.
Then I head upstairs to see my wife.
When I walk in, I find her lying on her belly on the floor. She’s sketching something into the foot of the wall with a stub of a pencil that looks like it’s on its last leg.
Then I glance around and understand why.
The white walls have been transformed.
“Jesus Christ.”
Olivia gasps, twisting around so fast she hits her head against the same wall she’s defacing with her drawings. When she sees me, she stumbles to her feet, holding her pathetic little pencil like a weapon.
“What have you done to my walls?”
She stares at me for a moment. Then her jaw loosens and that familiar bratty fire flares in her eyes. “I improved them.”
“Is that what you call it?”
My eyes latch on to the drawing of myself next to the bed. She’s drawn me behind an uncanny image of Pyotr. The expression on my face is less than flattering.
I make a quick scan of the room, noticing other images, other characters. Some of them I recognize; most of them I don’t. I ignore the speech bubbles—no good can come of getting riled up about her juvenile jabs—and turn back to face Olivia.
“You’ve been keeping busy during our little détente, it seems.”
She cocks her hip to the side and glares at me. “What do you want?”
She’s lost weight. I notice the way her collarbones stick out, the way her cheeks have hollowed in. It makes me wonder if I’ll still see those dimples of hers if she smiles or if I’ve stolen those from her, too.
Though with the way things are going, I doubt a smile is very likely.
“I wanted to reassure you,” I tell her. “This marriage is legal, but it doesn’t have to be forever.”
She frowns. “Why does that sound like a promise you have no intention of keeping?”
“Once your brother backs off, and once I have certain assurances from him, you will be able to get back to your life.”
Her eyes flash with nebulous hope. “Great. Grand. Fabulous. When will that be?”
“I have to make sure he’s serious,” I tell her. “Let’s call it one year from now.”
“Excuse me?”
“It’s a generous estimate. I will hold onto you for a year to make sure your brother stays good on his word.”
“You expect me to stay here for an entire fucking year?”
“Did I stutter, kiska?”
“That’s… I… I can’t.”
“Why ever not?” I ask with saccharine fake sweetness. “It’s not like you had much of a life to go back to. In case you’ve forgotten, you were a freelancer who was between jobs. Your friends were mostly colleagues who never bothered phoning after the work day ended. You have no boyfriend, no lovers, not even a pet to miss you. So tell me: who exactly is waiting for you back in New York?”
Her skin is flushed with anger. “Who are you to decide my life was worthless?” she rages. “It was lonely, but it was mine. I liked it.”
I shrug. “You can just as easily be lonely here.”
“My family—”
“Your family will be safe from me,” I tell her. “Just as long as you play the part of my wife for the year you live in this house.”
“Convenient,” she spits. “How beautifully this worked out for you. Not only can you control my brother using me, you can control me using my family.”
“Isn’t it lovely how things work out sometimes?”