how much the smiles and jokes hid the trauma in her mind.
But I wouldn’t poke and prod. She was owed her privacy, just as I was owed my own.
I also had enough problems on my plate. I didn’t need to take on anyone else’s.
“Breakfast?” I repeated.
Danika nodded and began to lead the way, the Siberian Cat shadowing us. We only got lost a few times, but the detours allowed me to take in more of the house, though the lack of furniture made it difficult to catalogue where we were exactly.
It was the smell of bacon and eggs that ended up helping Danika find the kitchen.
I was expecting breakfast to only consist of Danika and me. Instead, when we reached the kitchen, voices and the clattering of plates poured out. Danika didn’t look bothered as she pushed open the classical French doors and declared, “We’re here! I hope you didn’t eat all the croissants, Roman.”
“I stopped him,” someone answered.
Danika pulled me into the room.
I noticed Konstantin first. He was sitting at the end of a small table, leaning back in his chair and looking strangely relaxed. His blonde hair was brushed neatly back, his suit immaculate, and his wristwatch gleaming mockingly in the morning light. A true gentleman, I thought.
Konstantin caught my eyes and smiled slowly.
I turned away, taking in the other members of the kitchen. I recognized Dmitri with his pale skin and icy blue eyes, as well as Roman with his tattooed cheeks and dog-like expression. The two unfamiliar faces were a man and woman sitting beside Konstantin at the table.
The woman gracefully rose from where she was sitting, with long hair that was a shade away from white and delicate features. She smiled politely at me. The man remained in his seat, his dark eyes watching me from where he sat. Like Konstantin, he was also dressed in a suit.
“Did you have a good sleep, Mrs Falcone?” Konstantin inquired.
“Fine,” I gritted out. “The cat didn’t kill me.”
I looked to his face to see a glint of humor bloom in his expression. “Always an upside.” He gestured a hand around the room. “You know Dmitri and Roman already, but I don’t believe you have met Artyom and Roksana Fattakhov. Artyom, Roksana, meet Elena Falcone.”
Roksana stepped forward like she was going to shake my hand, but she didn’t offer it. “It is lovely to meet you. Are you hungry?”
“I am,” I said.
Danika dragged me to the table. Over her shoulder, I spotted Roman sending me a harsh look. I returned it with one of my own.
I ended up being tucked in between Roksana and Danika, close enough to feel the weight of Konstantin’s stare on me. Some part of me wished I was still upstairs in my bedroom, hungry, but alone. Now I felt like I had stepped into some warped family breakfast.
To my utter surprise, Roman and Dmitri brought the food to the table. I felt my jaw slacken as I watched them place the piles of pancakes and bacon into the middle of the table.
“It’s Roman and Dmitri’s turn to cook,” Danika told me, “so get excited for your future food poisoning.”
“That was one time!” Roman shot back.
She ignored him and gave me a meaningful look.
“One time too many, I say,” I said to agree with her.
Danika brightened. “Exactly, Elena! My thoughts exactly.” She peered around my head, giving Roman a mocking glare. “Did you hear what Elena said, Roman?”
Roman muttered something in Russian under his breath.
“Let us not fight,” Roksana interrupted, her voice floating above everyone’s. “Poor Elena doesn’t need to hear all the bickering.”
I didn’t mind. A part of me found it interesting listening to them argue, especially Danika and Roman. If I was nosy, I might’ve asked Danika about it. But my husband was barely cold, so I wasn’t in any position to get into someone else’s love life. Listening to them argue was satisfying enough.
I stayed quiet as they chatted about their plans for the day, a blend of American and Russian accents. There was a strange domesticity to hearing them discuss the groceries and the paint they had to buy for the living room. Someone mentioned the plumber coming out at three, so someone had to be here to receive him.
Of course, they spoke of all the domestic issues of the house. In my mind, I had built them up as mobster machines who only spoke of drug deals and racketeering.
“What time does Anton’s day finish?” Roksana asked at one point.