Page 49 of Mistaken
“Apparently.”
“I should…” His body was wreathed in steam from the shower, and soap suds traveled down his sculpted back.What? I should what… oh!“G- go call her. Yeah.”
But for the first time that I could remember, Tania sent me to voicemail.
Maksim was gone for most of the day, not returning until I was fast asleep and leaving early the next morning. I wondered if he slept at all. I’d called Tania fifteen times and left various threatening texts. The bodyguards swarming the penthouse refused to let me leave.
“Mr. Morozov requested that you stay here for your safety.”
Yeah, and Mr. I’m Such A Dick Morozov didn’t answer my calls, either. I was seconds away from caving and asking Alina if she’d call him for me when Maksim came home.
“Hey, can you have one of the guys take me over to Tania? I really need to check on her-”
He walked past me. “Not today. If everything goes smoothly, you can check on her tomorrow before we leave for St. Petersburg.”
“Maksim, I need to go today, she’s not taking my calls and this is completely un-Tania-like, and-”
Finally, he stops but it’s only to look sternly down at me. “I need you for a Bratva function today. This is part of your role as a Pakhan’s wife.” He’s guiding me into his study. Oh, the inner sanctum.
“What is this function?” I sit in the wonderfully big, squishy leather chair that I’ve noticed he prefers. So, he leans against his desk, folding his arms.
“A funeral. For eight of my men.”
Now I feel like a complete scumbag for being so cranky.
“Oh, no. You lost that many guards at the party?”
He shook his head. “Five others were killed the day before.”
“Wha-” my hands are waving helplessly, “I’m so sorry, that’s- that’s really awful. How did they-”
“It doesn’t matter,” Maksim waved my question away imperiously, “but our role here is to show respect and comfort, should the families wish it.”
Oh, this is so bad. “Do many of them have wives? Kids?”
“Yes.”
The funeral was held at St. Nicholas Russian Orthodox Cathedral in downtown Manhattan. There were eight coffins, and we circled each one as I carefully put a flower on the bodies. One man was in such terrible shape that the burial shroud was already covering him. But Maksim leaned in and kissed the forehead of each one, his face stoic. I snuck sideways glances at the families, at the other people who work for him. I’d tried to smile and offer my condolences, but none of them were interested, and I backed away quickly. I got it. I was the outsider, some of their husbands probably died guarding us on New Year’s Eve. Alina was there, too, looking chic in a black Chanel suit and the crying women were hugging her instead. She looked at me over the shaking shoulders of one new widow with a little smile only I could see.
Maksim sent me home after the service. Alone for the rest of the night, I kept trying to reach Tania.
“Hey, honey. Please pick up. I know what happened was… just. I know. I don’t know what to say. I feel like it’s my fault because you never would have been there if you hadn’t been sticking with me like a true friend. Please…”Please don’t hate me. “If you need time, I understand but will you please tell me…”Please tell me that you’re okay. Please tell me you’ll speak to me again.“Just, let me know you’re okay? I love you.”
Chapter 15 – Skating the Neva River
In which Ella gets some much-needed Girlfriend Wisdom, dinner out, and the most impressive mansion in St. Petersburg
Ella…
Surprise, surprise. Maksim doesn’t come home that night.
The next day, I’m told to pack for the trip by the ever-(not)helpful Alina, and it takes everything in me not to scream, “You do not tell me what to do!” I pack, of course, but as god as my witness, I’m not leaving this city until they let me see Tania.
On my fifth rotation through the penthouse, ignoring the stares of Maksim’s guards and wishing death and murder and horrible acne on all of them, I hear a voice in the other room. A new voice, made apparent by the fact that his accent isn’t Russian, it’s Irish.
“Hi, who are you?”Okay, a little abrupt, Ella.
He has a nice smile, looks later twenties, your standard Irish ginger, and he’s talking to a couple of Maksim’s senior guards. “Ah, you’re the new Mrs. Morozov, and looking lovely today, may I say.”
