Page 24 of Between Us

“Have you met your brother's date?” Vitaly asked Roman, gesturing to the girl sitting beside Alek. “She is amodel.” He said the last word with thinly veiled derision.

The girl in question looked even more uncomfortable with being there than Alessandra. She fidgeted with the end of her long necklace and gave Roman a weak smile. No one bothered to introduce her by name.

Tatyana rolled her eyes and stood, looking annoyed by something. “Dinner must be ready by now. We should move to the dining room.” She paused to give Alessandra a kiss on the cheek, surprising everyone with the gesture. “It's nice to see you again.”

Then she walked out of the room, Alek following behind her with his date in tow.

Alessandra couldfeelVitaly's gaze heating the side of her face, though she didn’t look in his general direction again. She didn’t think he was too happy about his daughter making friends with her. Despite being Roman's wife, Alessandra was by no stretch of the imagination considered family. If she'd had any doubts about Vitaly Leskov's feelings toward her, now she knew exactly where she stood with him.

Roman grabbing her hand interrupted her train of thought. Wordlessly, he pulled her along and essentially out of Vitaly’s field of vision, and she found refuge in his touch as she leaned into him almost instinctively.

As soon as everyone was seated around the large walnut table, two maids appeared with trays of food. The first course placed in front of them was some kind of fish soup with a clear broth and brown sourdough rye bread. Alessandra stared at her bowl, trying not to grimace at the smell reaching her nostrils. She wasn't afan of fish or any type of seafood.

“Is there a problem with the food?”

She looked up to find all six pairs of eyes on her. The question had come from her father-in-law, who was giving her his full attention again, eyes sharp and mouth set into a hard line.

It took her a moment to find the courage to answer the question. She wasn't going to force herself to ingest something that she couldn't stomach. “I don't eat fish.”

Vitaly stared at her as if she'd just told him she was a member of a satanic cult. “You don't eat fish,” he parroted, his gaze sliding over to his firstborn. “What kind of nonsense is this?”

Roman put down the tumbler of whiskey a maid had placed in front of him seconds before. “If she doesn't want the soup, she can wait for the main dish. What's the problem?”

“What is the problem?” Vitaly sneered. “The problem, Roman, is that yourwifeis insulting me by coming into my house and refusing the food I am providing for her. I will not tolerate being disrespected into my own home. She will eat everything that is put in front of her, like everyone else.”

Alessandra stiffened at the venom in his voice as a blush crawled up her neck and cheeks. She kept her eyes on her bowl and her hands clasped in her lap.

“Do you want her to eat the soup and be sick, Vitaly? You have some sadistic desire to see her throw up her meal, or what?”

“Mind your tongue,” his father seethed, fingers twitching on the table.

“Get off her back. She can decide whatever the fuck she wants to eat.”

Vitaly's meaty palm met the surface of the table with a loud thud, making dishes and silverware clank. Alessandra's heart raced, afraid of what would follow.

Before the argument could escalate even more, Yana had the good sense to step in. “Lyubimiy.” Her artificially-enhanced lips curved into a pout, her hand reaching across the table to touch her husband’s. “Let's not ruin this evening, yes?”

Vitaly glanced at his young wife, and her little show of getting upset seemed to appease him. At least for the moment. With a gruff sound in the back of his throat, he gave Roman a warning look then returned his attention to his food.

Alessandra couldfeelthe tension emanating from Roman like a dark aura, and before she even realized what she was doing, her palm was resting on his strong thigh. The touch was tentative, but when he reached under the table and placed his own hand on top of hers, she let out a deep breath she hadn't realized she was holding.

Alek, who had been quiet since they entered the dining room, gave Yana a knowing grin across the table. “You enjoying your new car, Yana?”

Her eyes instantly lit up at the question. “Da, I love it.” She threw her husband a loving look. “My sweet even got it in my favorite color.”

Vitaly nodded, gaze still lowered to his soup, although it was obvious he was enjoying her purrs of gratitude.

Alessandra didn't know anything about the Leskovs' history, but she felt that Yana was a fairly new addition to the family. Obviously, the young woman couldn’t have given birth to any of the three adult offspring,so she had to wonder what had happened to Roman's biological mother. Since divorce was a highly unlikely scenario in any Mafia organization, she assumed the woman was dead.

Risking a glance at Roman, Alessandra noticed that his jaw was set, eyes fixed on a spot above the tall windows. Whether his current mood was from the argument with his father or an aversion toward Yana, she couldn't tell. He drank his whiskey, fuming silently. When she looked at his bowl, she saw that he hadn't touched his soup either.

To her relief, the main dish was beef Stroganoff served with pasta. Picking up her cutlery, she rolled pasta around her fork and ate. It was delicious, and her stomach was grateful for small mercies.

No one tried to engage her in conversation for the remainder of the evening.

???

After dinner, Alessandra excused herself to use the bathroom. On her way back, she noticed the French doors leading to a perfectly manicured garden and decided to step outside for some fresh air. It was the second week of July and the temperatures in Chicago had peaked at one hundred degrees two days before. She took in the expansive garden with its limestone patio and pink rose bushes that reminded her of her parents' home. It felt strange, being in the heart of enemy territory, surrounded by people she never thought she'd even cross paths with but was now forced to call family.

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