Page 39 of Sin Wager
We climb the narrow staircase to my apartment, and I can hear the television through the thin walls—some crime drama Batya watches every Tuesday. I unlock the door and step inside, Misha close behind me. He isn't as nervous as I am, but he doesn't seem as at ease as normal. I lead him through the door and he shuts it behind us as I call out.
"Batya? Elvin? I'm home."
Batya emerges from the kitchen, wiping his hands on a dish towel. He's a small man, made smaller by years of factory work and worry, but his presence fills the room when he sees Misha standing in our doorway. His first glance is assessing, eyes narrowing with concern.
"Batya, this is Misha." I move between them, my heart hammering. "Misha, my father, Anatoly."
The two men study each other for what feels like hours to my trembling heart, but it has to be only seconds. Batya takes in Misha's expensive suit, the confident way he holds himself, the expensive watch on his wrist. Misha meets Batya's gaze directly, no deflection or false charm.
"Sir," Misha says, extending his hand.
Batya shakes it, his grip firm despite his size. "You're older than I expected."
"Yes, sir."
"Much older."
"Seventeen years," Misha says without flinching. "I understand your concern." Something inside me shrinks as I realize just how different we are in age, but none of that matters when I'm alone with Misha, when he's holding me and sharing tender moments.
"Batya," I start, but he holds up a hand.
"Sit," Batya says, gesturing toward our small living room. "Both of you."
Elvin appears in the doorway, leaning heavily against the frame. He seems tired, but it's good that he's out of bed and moving, even with his spindly, emaciated frame. And his eyes are bright with curiosity as he looks between Misha and me.
"So you're the famous Misha," Elvin says, settling carefully into his chair. "Vera hasn't stopped talking about you."
Heat floods my cheeks. "Elvin…"
"What?" He grins at me, then turns his attention to Misha. "I'm Elvin, her brother."
"Good to meet you," Misha says, and I can hear genuine warmth in his voice. "How are you feeling?"
"Like death warmed over, but still kicking." Elvin's smile fades slightly. "Though I have to admit, I worry about not seeing my sister married off properly."
Elvin's comment doesn't seem to faze Misha, and Batya settles into his chair, the dish towel forgotten in his lap.
"Tell me about your work," Batya says to Misha.
"I manage operations, some imports and exports, conflict management…" The answer is smooth, though even I don't know what he does. Whatever it is, it's lucrative enough to own three horses and live like a king.
"Dangerous work?"
Misha doesn't hesitate. "Sometimes."
"And Vera? Is she safe with you?"
"I would never let anything happen to your daughter," he says, and I know he means it. He takes my hand and looks me in the eye as he continues. "I care about her."
Batya leans forward, his eyes narrowing. "That's not what I asked."
Misha meets his stare. "Yes, she's safe with me. Safer than she would be without me, given the current situation at the track."
"What situation?"
I tense, but Misha's voice remains steady. "There have been some security concerns recently. People getting involved with the wrong crowd, making poor choices. I'm making sure Vera doesn't get caught up in anything she shouldn't."
It's not the whole truth, but it's not a lie, either. Batya seems to sense there's more to the story, but he doesn't push. I'll get the brunt of that later, I'm sure.
