chest. “You’re my guest.”
Her scowl deepened. Elena didn’t enjoy being played with. Which was a shame, since she made such an interesting adversary.
Unwilling to let our game end so soon, I said, “In a few days, one of Roksana’s beloved ballets is on. You will need to borrow a formal dress from her.”
Elena thinned her lips. “The ballet?”
“Per the terms of our agreement, Elena, you are expected to join me on a few public outings. I won’t have our neighbor believing I’ve kidnapped you.”
I could see her battling to retort, torn between knowing she had agreed to the contract verse her natural instinct to snap back at me.
“Fine,” Elena sniped. “But I’m not staying awake the entire time.”
“Not a fan of the arts?”
“No,” she said coldly. “I’m not.”
I wasn’t surprised. Elena didn’t seem like she valued history and creation over cold hard facts and science. “Roksana will make every effort to change your mind, I’m sure.”
Elena didn’t look convinced.
“Keep me updated on your progress regarding Tatiana,” I said, stepping away.
She made a noise of agreement low in her throat.
“Elena,” I said, tone hard enough that she looked up at me. “Tatiana is very important to this family. Her recovery is very serious to us.”
Understanding flashed over Elena’s face. “I know.” Her voice was soft. “I know that.”
“Any resources you need, just ask.”
Elena glanced out the window then back to me. “Actually, I do need something.”
I tilted my head to the side, urging her to go on.
“I need a lab.”
I smiled. “Then you shall have one.”
8
Konstantin Tarkhanov
Greenridge Orchards had been one of the first pieces of land I’d bought outside of the metropolis when ensuring my reign over Staten Island. Apple trees stretched over the ten acres, their leaves a mix of browns and oranges. The branches and trunks were so thick that it made it difficult to see far ahead, offering a sense of privacy to what we kept hidden amongst the orchard.
Elena eyed her surroundings as I gestured for her to walk ahead. She was wearing a second-hand jumper from Tatiana, the worn quality of the green fabric barely keeping her warm. To her credit, Elena didn’t look bothered by the October chill.
“I didn’t realize you invested in agriculture,” she said snidely.
“Food is very lucrative, Elena.”
Instead of replying, she rolled her eyes.
We walked side by side through gaps in the trees, Roman prowling behind at a distance.
“Greenridge Orchards was one of my first investments here,” I told her.
She glanced to me, unsure. “Oh?” Then, “Why?”
“Agriculture offers a certain anonymity to all those involved.”
“And mob bosses love anonymity,” Elena muttered.
I raised my eyebrows at her. “As do you.”
Her expression wavered, and she assessed me, as if she was trying to understand the meaning behind my words. I wondered if she would pick it up, or if I would be granted a few more weeks of my pride.
“It is easy to move through shell corporations in agriculture,” I told her, distracting her from her thoughts. “As long as it looks legit and the food is good, the government is happy to look the other way. Especially if it promises them money.”
“Greedy idiots,” she said.
“Their avarice does make my job easier,” I acknowledged, “but who am I to judge?”
Elena snorted in agreement.
We walked a bit further through the trees, leaves crunching beneath our footfalls.
“Did Thaddeo know?” Elena asked.
I bit down on my molars when she said his name, the syllables rolling off her tongue with familiarity, but replied, “I doubt it.”
Elena looked like she agreed. “Thaddeo did have the habit of ignoring things that he didn’t want to deal with.”
“You included?”
She glared at me. “Trust me, if anyone was ignoring anyone in my marriage, it was me ignoring him.”
I didn’t fully believe that, but I allowed Elena her dignity. There was probably some truth to her statement. Elena wasn’t one to embellish.
“For your sanity, I imagine.”
For a second, I almost thought she would smile. Her eyes brightened like emeralds, and her soft lips curved ever so slightly. But the amusement was there and gone in moments.
“You seem very interested in my marriage,” Elena accused.
More than she knew. “It is not every day one has the opportunity to pick the brain of his enemy’s widow.”
Her face twisted. “If you’re searching for secrets, you’d have a better chance speaking to his family.” She eyed me. “If you haven’t killed them all already.”
I inclined my chin. “You are the last Falcone.”
Elena stared at me for a second, expression unreadable, before shrugging and continuing forward.
I felt