Page 57 of Scarlet Vows
I know my mother didn’t want me in this world, but Demyan drew me into it.
Would my life have been different if she’d married the man my grandfather wanted her to marry? WouldIhave been different?
Then again, I wouldn’t be here, would I?
“Are you okay?”
I turn. Melor stands in the door between the two offices, and I just shrug.
“Same old.”
Melor nods. “The men are hard to crack. Set in their ways. Mistrustful of a stranger.” He switches to Russian. “But I’m sure once you get through to them, your job will be a lot easier.”
“I’m sure.” I sigh. “It’s not that. I know how these things work. Trust must be earned. I was just thinking of my grandfather and the fact I never got to know him.”
Melor gestures to the sofa, and at my nod, he sits. “Alekwas a good, honorable man who put up with no nonsense. Old-school, as some of the newer soldiers say, those born here in America. And even some born in Russia. Alek was of the old world, but he had respect.”
“Of course.” I pace the floor, waiting for him to go on, because I can tell he has a lot to say.
“Many considered Aleksandr ruthless, heartless, but they didn’t know him. For those he respected, Alek would do anything. Even risk his life.” He looks at me. “Cross him? He’d cut you out as dead.”
Like my mother. I can read between the lines. What my grandfather did was unforgivable. She was his daughter. We were his flesh and blood. But a man like him… He lost all respect for her the day she disobeyed his orders.
Am I meant to be all right with that decision?
“Do you think he expected me to be just like him? Or was the will a way of forcing me into the mold he wanted me shaped into?” I don’t wait for Melor to answer. “He might have thought manipulation meant strength, and the manipulated are then worthy, but I disagree.”
“He knew who you were.”
That isn’t an answer.
“If he expected me to mirror his beliefs, to grow into them based on how he treated my mother, then this is a mistake.”
He’d be turning in his grave.
“With respect, I don’t think he did things without thinking them through. If he named you, even if you are his heir, he did it because he believed you would be worthy. Heir or not, if he didn’t believe in your worth, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”
“No, I suppose not.”
I say that, but I don’t agree. Of course, Melor doesn’tknow the marriage clause, the manipulations from beyond the grave. But I think all it does is strengthen my resolve to shape this in my image, based on my ways and beliefs.
Sighing, I take a bottle of vodka and two glasses, cross to the desk, and set them down. “It’s been a shit of a day, and I really need a drink.”
Melor rises. “Not that American crap. Here…”
He moves to the bookshelf and presses a button, and the cabinets slide apart to reveal a hidden fridge. Melor opens it, and inside are bottles of vodka.
“The top shelf Russian stash, kept below zero.” He selects one and brings it over.
Demyan drinks this obscure brand. It’s expensive and made in a small Russian town, each bottle now labeled with a batch number. How times have changed.
I thank him, unscrew the bottle, and pour a thick slug into each glass. I hand one to him before collapsing in my chair. He takes the seat opposite.
Melor grins as he drains his glass. “Good,da?”
I down mine, too.
“Da,” I say.
