Page 53 of Triplet Babies
I take a sip of wine and consider how much to reveal. “They were happy. That’s what I remember most. They laughed together and touched each other constantly. My mother would sing while she cooked, and my father would dance with her in the kitchen.”
Sarah smiles at that image. “You were close to them.”
“Very. My father started taking me to the office when I was ten and taught me the legitimate side of our businesses, focusing on real estate, import-export, and restaurant chains. He wanted me to understand that we weren’t just criminals. We were businessmen who happened to operate outside the law.” I smile at the memory of sitting beside my father at his massive desk, learning accounting and business structures before I’d memorized the multiplication table.
She leans forward slightly. “What about your mother?”
I sigh softly, nearly overwhelmed with a wave of nostalgia that makes me ache to hug her again. “She tried to keep me separate from that world as long as possible. She taught me to appreciate art, music, and literature. We spent hours in her garden, andshe’d tell me stories about her childhood in Moscow.” I pause, remembering the scent of roses and the sound of her voice.
Sarah reaches across the table and covers my hand with hers. The gesture is simple, but it keeps me in the present.
“I was supposed to be with them that night. They were going to dinner and a movie—some romantic comedy my mother wanted to see. I had a fever that was nothing serious, but she insisted I stay home.”
Her fingers tighten around mine. “You were thirteen?”
I nod. “Old enough to understand the men who shot them weren’t random criminals, but young enough to believe Uncle Yuri when he promised they’d pay for what they did.”
She traces circles on my hand with her thumb. “Your uncle raised you?”
“Technically, for a few years. Yuri was my father’s younger brother, but he was never suited for leadership. He preferred gambling and women to the responsibilities of running abratva. He kept the organization together for a few years, but barely.” I take a sip of wine, remembering those chaotic days. “I started taking over operations when I was sixteen and officially claimed leadership at eighteen.”
She nods with understanding. “You said that’s when you got the stars.”
I nod. “After I killed the Kozlovs. They’d taken everything from me—my parents, my childhood, and my sense of safety. I wanted them to suffer.”
Sarah doesn’t flinch from the violence in my words. She just squeezes my hand tighter as she tilts her head thoughtfully. “Doyou ever wonder what your life would have been like if they’d lived?”
I don’t have to hesitate to form an answer. “Every day. My father was grooming me to take over eventually, but not until I was much older. I would have gone to university, maybe traveled, and had time to figure out who I was outside of all this.”
She leans back in her chair. “You still could.”
I shake my head. “I’m thirty-three years old, Sarah. I’ve been responsible for hundreds of lives, thousands of jobs, and millions in revenue for half my life. This is who I am now.”
She studies my face in the candlelight. “Is it who you want to be?”
The honest answer would complicate everything, so I deflect. “What about you? What did your parents want for you?”
Her smile turns rueful. “My mother wanted me to be practical. She insisted on college and a stable job, marrying a reliable man, and having children. She died when I was nineteen from cancer. She lived long enough to see me enroll in a vocational program to get a landscaping certificate and chastise me for not going for something bigger.” She smiles, clearly moved by the memory without bitterness.
“Why didn’t you?”
“I didn’t want student loan debts, so I’d planned to work while pursuing a degree in botany.” She frowns for a minute. “The return to school never happened. I was about to re-enroll for my bachelor’s when I met Alex…” She trails off, signaling she didn’t mean to mention him. Maybe she doesn’t want to talk about him tonight. Neither do I, except to get enough information abouthim to track him down and kill him. I envision what I’d do to him, and it would make it seem like I was easy on the Kozlovs in comparison.
I reach for her hand this time. “What about your father?”
“He left when I was fifteen. One day he was there, and the next, he was gone. Mom never talked about it, but I always assumed there was another woman.” She shrugs. “I haven’t seen him since, but I haven’t really looked. He was always gone more than he was there when he was supposedly with us anyway.”
I squeeze her fingers gently. “I’m sorry.”
She shrugs, though I can see the old hurt in her eyes. “It’s fine. We managed, though I think that’s part of why I stayed with Alex as long as I did. I was so grateful someone wanted me, and I didn’t have to be alone, that I ignored all the red flags.”
The second mention of her ex makes my jaw tighten, but I keep my voice neutral. “You said he was controlling.”
She sets down her water glass. “That’s putting it mildly. He monitored my phone, my email, and my bank accounts. He convinced me to quit my job and drop out of the botany program I’d been accepted to, so I could focus on building us a home.” She rolls her eyes, clearly annoyed with him and the naïve woman she used to be. “He isolated me from my friends until Nina was the only person left in my life.”
I lean forward. “Nina helped you leave?”
She nods. “She saved my life. She helped me plan my escape and insisted on coming with me.” Her voice grows quiet. “I owe her everything.”
