Nikolai’s jaw drops. I can’t even take in Polly or Dimiv’s reactions because my eyes are trained on him.
“Don’t lie to me, Nikolai. I know. I know the truth now.”
“Jesus,” he gasps. “You’re serious.”
“I just found out.”
“From who?” he demands incredulously. The flinging of his hands sends blood droplets spraying all across the room. The white roses shudder as crimson blood rains down on them. “Because whoever told you that shit is a liar.”
There’s so much outrage, so much shock, so much indignation in his eyes and in his voice that it plants just the tiniest seed of doubt in my head. Looking at him now, it seems impossible. This is Nikolai. We may have done battle a few times in the past, but we are brothers. It’s part of the deal.
And yet… I think about all those fights I won because I was the pahkan. I think about all the times Nikolai was forced to bite his tongue because I was the head of the family. Because my head bore the crown. I think about how, when shit hit the fan and someone needed to take the reins, he was pushed to the side while I took over.
“Is this payback?” I scowl.
Nikolai’s eyes go wide. “Payback for what?”
“Let’s just get all this shit out in the open, shall we? It’s been almost eight years and we’ve never had a real conversation about it. You are the elder brother, but I ended up the pahkan and you have always resented me for it.”
His eyes flare again. “Wait. Hold on. Let me get this straight. You believe that I slept with your woman as payback for taking pakhan from me?”
Polly opens her mouth to say something but Dimiv grabs her arm and shakes his head. She falls silent while Nikolai grabs one of the cloth napkins off the cake table and grimly wipes away some of the blood on his face.
It smears it around more than it cleans anything. But that’s life these days—we try to clean it, to make things work, and shit just gets messier and messier and bloodier and bloodier. It’s a bit too on the nose, as far as metaphors go, actually.
He drops the napkin in disgust and turns his gaze back on me. “You want to have this conversation now, like this? Fine. There was a time when I was angry and bitter about it. But the moment I took my ego out of it, I was able to see that you were the right choice for pahkan and I wasn’t. I could have challenged you; I could have called for a vote. I did neither. I let you take control because you were more suited for the role than I was.” He spits out more blood and screws his face up in a scowl. “When we lost Mother and Otets, I broke down and you stepped up. Yeah, I was bitter and I was angry. But I was angry at myself.”
His explanation is coming off a lot more sincere than I’d have expected for the kind of man capable of fucking his brother’s woman. And that small kernel of doubt at the back of my head is starting to grow. It’s taking root, throwing up vines that wind their way through me.
“Make no mistake,” Nikolai continues angrily. “I think you’re a pompous, arrogant smart ass who doesn’t listen to or value anyone else’s opinions most of the time. But I do think you’re the perfect pahkan for this Bratva. And I would never dream of challenging you for the mantle or begrudging you for taking it.”
I stand in silence. In the corner of my eye, one of the white roses droops low, weighed down by my brother’s blood.
He takes a step forward and jabs his finger in my chest. “So no, I did not sleep with Alyssa. Nor would I ever do something like that. We are just friends. It’s what we’ve always been and that’s not going to change. Unless you decide to be an asshole about whatever chip has landed on your shoulder today.”
Dimiv takes a step forward. “Cousin,” he intercedes gently, “what put this idea in your head?”
My eyes veer to him. “Grigory told me.”
Nikolai balks. “Grigory told you that I was the father of Alyssa’s babies?!”
“He told me that the DNA and blood tests they took for the babies suggests that I’m not their father, but their father is closely related.”
Nikolai’s eyes swing over to Dimiv. “I don’t understand… Grigory’s been working for the Bugrov Bratva for decades. Why would he lie about something like that?”
The doubt is spreading like a weed now. Those vines reach and poke and prod into every vulnerable part of my brain. If Nikolai is right and Grigory is lying…
“Fuck. Alyssa,” I mutter as I fly out of the chapel.