Til Death Do Us Part (Kornilov Bratva Duet #2) - Nicole Fox Page 0,44
her, too. But I’ll do whatever is necessary to protect my Bratva and my family. Anything.
“Are you feeding an army?” I tease as I walk into their kitchen. There is a tower of baklava on the table along with a stack of buckwheat pancakes and an entire loaf of sourdough bread. “Where is Petr? Baklava is his favorite.”
The question is casual, but important.
“Busy with all the work you give him,” she says, narrowing her eyes at me. I know she is only teasing. Aunt Vera has told me many times how happy she is that I keep Petr busy. No woman in our family wants her son to be involved in our dangerous lifestyle, but being consigliere to the boss is better than being a soldier. Petr is safer at my side than anywhere else in my operation.
I only hope I haven’t risked my own safety by trusting him.
“He hasn’t been by to see you recently?”
Aunt Vera shakes her head and then squints to think. “Not for a couple weeks. That toad. You should tell him to visit his mama. Make it an order.”
“I’ll do that.” I try to sound light, but my entire body is tense. How much betrayal can one man handle?
I clear my throat and take a bite of baklava. The honey and walnut balance each other well, and I take momentary solace in the flaky pastry. I might not be getting another one in a long time, if ever. I doubt Aunt Vera would forgive me for killing her last living son, no matter how justified my reasons.
“How have you been?” I ask.
She waves away the question. “Same. I’m a boring old woman now.”
“You’re healthy?” I prod.
Aunt Vera glances up at me, eyes narrowed. “Do I not look healthy? Are you implying I’m old?”
“You just called yourself old.”
“I’m allowed to do that, but not you,” she says with a stern finger point. “Your job is to tell me I don’t look a day over thirty.”
“You don’t,” I lie with a forced smile. “But you didn’t answer my question.”
Aunt Vera cuts off a slice of sourdough and slides it across the counter to me on a napkin. “I’m healthy as a horse, you worrywart. I feel great.”
I want to believe she is lying, trying to protect me from the truth of some terminal illness, but I know she isn’t. If anything, Aunt Vera would come to me first if she was sick. She would want to protect Petr from the news and from having to take care of her.
If Aunt Vera was sick, she’d tell me.
Which means Petr is lying.
“I hear you got yourself married,” she says, lifting her chin and turning away from me. “Though, I missed the invitation.”
“It was a quick wedding,” I say. “I’m sorry.”
She turns back to me, her eyes assessing. “A quick wedding? Is it because she is carrying your baby?”
Damn, I almost forgot how astute Aunt Vera can be.
When I don’t answer, she shrugs. “Fine, but when you announce the news, I better be one of the first to know. I’ll babysit whenever you need me to.”
“I know,” I say warmly, wishing that were possible. By the time the baby is born, Molly might be gone. And if she isn’t, Petr likely will be. The news of why I had to kill Petr will get back to Aunt Vera, and she’ll never forgive me. She’ll never meet my child or babysit for me.
After my parents died, Aunt Vera was a substitute mother. She has been there for me my entire life, and now, I’m looking into a future alone.
Before I leave, she sends me home with a plastic container of food for Molly and Theo and a kiss on the cheek. I can still feel the residue from her lipstick on my cheek as I call Petr from the car.
He answers on the third ring with a loud whoop. “You won over the Irish. Goddamn, Vik. We might actually win this thing.”
“We will win,” I say firmly.
“Of course, of course.” Petr chuckles to himself, excited by the news of the recent alliance. Or, at least, pretending to be excited. “So, what’s going on?”
“Nothing. I just wanted to call and check on your mom. Is she still sick?”
There is a pause. “Yeah. Still sick. Thanks for asking.”
I close my eyes and shake my head. “Let me know if I can do anything. I can stop by and help with whatever she needs.”
“No, that’s okay,” Petr says quickly. “I can take care of