Page 38 of Rapunzel Is Losing It

Except we were focused on endurance, so Yury had no reason to rip into me for my moves lacking precision. “What do you want?”

“Fetching you for an audience with his eminence,” Luka pocketed his phone and fell into step beside me.

Since I had no choice, I just followed his directions. I knew what would happen if I refused a meeting with the great Piotr Yelchin and just walked out the front door. When I’d pulled that shit at 19, because I was chasing some college girl, Petya’s men had showed up on her doorstep. They had given me a bloody lip and a black eye, and had dragged both me and the girl to the dinner table without giving us the chance to get dressed. She’d sat there barefoot, in her jeans and black bra, me in my boxers next to her, and we had to eat and make conversation like nothing was wrong.

Needless to say I’d never heard from her again.

Luka led us upstairs to Petya’s office. He knocked twice and waited for his father to call him in before he scanned his key against the scanner.

My uncle sat behind the sleek desk in a colorless room. Everything in here was gleaming and polished to a sterile degreeof white. Like walking into a sick version of heaven, but you were greeted by the devil in a Brooks Brothers suit.

“Come, sit, Vitya.” My uncle waved me forward. Luka stayed near the door, but I wordlessly followed command. “You’ve never been much of a talker, but you have gone quiet. Don’t tell me that blonde shrew has muzzled you.”

He wouldn’t get a rise out of me by going for Cordelia. I knew better than to give him that ammunition. I raised my brows.

“She cut out the tongues of all her little servant boys?” he taunted.

I shrugged.

“Yury tells me you’re making progress,” he said after a moment of silence passed.

“Yes,” I confirmed.

“Good, good.” He hummed before reaching into his jacket. My pulse skipped a single beat, preparing for the sight of a gun. Instead, Petya produced a thick cardstock envelope with my name lettered in gold foil. “I expect you to clear your schedule for Natalia’s wedding next week. It would be a shame to miss such a momentous family event.”

“I never agreed to quality time.”

“Consider it the unofficial announcement of your comeback. Your return will be a welcome sight to many. Possibly even some sponsors.”

“What sponsors?”

“Friends in the import-export business.” The sly grin on his lips spoke volumes of how little he trusted me. A few years ago, he would have openly boasted about how easy it was to get Russian hookers into the country through surrogacy schemes, or how he was tripling his business by cutting coke with horse tranquilizer.Import-exportwas as detailed an account as I would get from him now.

“Fine.” I held my hand out.

“You will not ruin Natalia’s wedding day with this attitude, son.”

Still wasn’t his son. “I’ll smile.”

“Good. And get a goddamn haircut.” He harrumphed in a way that let me know I was dismissed.

“Petya,” I rose from my chair and leveled my uncle with a look that might just cost me later, “tell Yury that if he changes my schedule again, I’ll make sure we’ll need to find a new trainer soon.”

Against all odds, Petya bellowed out a laugh. “Good to see the little shrew only got your tongue, not your balls, Vitya.”

Pocketing the damn wedding invitation, I beelined for the door. Luka was there to open it with his key fob before I could even think about fumbling mine from my pocket.

“Do you have an actual fucking death wish, asshole?” Luka breathed as we jogged down the stairs.

“It’s a game.”

The second we stepped outside, his lighter flashed and he had a cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth. “One that you’re not going to win.”

“Depends on your definition of winning.” Mine had certainly changed.

“What’s your definition of winning then?” Luka scoffed.

The dealings of our family had always hung over our heads like thick, black clouds. You either found your umbrella before the worst of the rain could hit you, and you made the best out of your wet shoes, or you tried to outrun the rain. Unlike Luka, I was now focused on the third option: Holding my umbrella over Cordelia’s head.

---