Page 71 of Mistaken
“Meaning not allowed to know anything about anything,” I smiled sardonically. Helping myself to a Cheeto, I said, “I used to date this Southern guy? Totally hot. But when I’d ask him anything complicated, he’d say, ‘Aw, darlin’ don’t you worry your pretty little head about that.’ We didn’t date very long.”
Both of them laughed, Mariya choking a little as she tried to swallow the rest of her pudding.
“Three beautiful women in one place? I sense trouble.” Maksim was leaning against the doorway, arms folded and smiling amiably. “But darling, do continue about this… Southern boy?”
“I have never dated anyone before you, my dear husband,” I offer, blinking up at him adorably.
At least I get one corner of his mouth to curve up in a half smile before he kisses both of his sisters.“Sestrichka,”he says fondly to Ekaterina, before squeezing Mariya into a hug, “malen'kaya ugroza.”
Little menace?I think with a grin,Looks like I might have a partner in crime here.
Yuri is behind him and the greetings begin again as I watch with a smile. It’s wonderful to see these two hardened men go all soft and kind when it comes to their little sisters. They’re all so lucky to have each other. Ekaterina links her arm with mine, squeezing me a little.
“Our sister has been giving us snacks,” she announces proudly, and both men look down at the rubble of carbohydrates while I dust the Cheeto powder off my skirt.
“So I see,” Maksim says dryly, “and here I was planning a dinner at the Russian Vodka Room, should I cancel, or…?”
“No!” Ekaterina wails.
“Please, brother!” Mariya, clinging to his hand.
“Oh, this is so dramatic,” I roll my eyes, leaning over to Yuri, who is laughing quietly.
“They… what is the phrase?” he says, “they own Maksim, and they know it.”
“No doubt,” I shake my head, grinning at the three of them.
***
I’m delighted to see that Alexi and Lucya are already at the table when we arrive, their girls squabbling over the place settings and Konstantin sitting stiffly, with perfect posture and ignoring the childish antics of his sisters.
“When did you get back from St. Petersburg?” I ask, kissing Lucya three times, left cheek, right cheek, left cheek… I was actually remembering all the Russian customs without studying up before we went anywhere!Progress, I thought,at least in some part of this life.Maksim orders Kasha with mushrooms and assorted Pirozhki to start as I look around the room. It’s white and elegant, but I see the tables are filled with mostly families and everyone is speaking in Russian.
“Maksim brings us here every time we visit,” confided Ekaterina, “we like it better than the fancy French stuff Mother loves.”
“Everything looks amazing,” I say, going for a Pirozhki, “you’ll have to recommend something for an entree.” Looking over at Lucya as I try not to stuff the entire bun in my mouth, I notice she’s watching Alexi and Maksim speak softly, her eyes narrowed. When Ekaterina turns to talk to Yana, I lean in.
“Is everything okay?”
Her gaze drifts to me, and Lucya smiles. A social sort of smile. Not a real one. “It could be worse,” she says cryptically. “I am just reminded that no matter how much our world progresses, how stubbornly some things stay the same.”
“Care to enlighten me?”
With a sigh, she taps her wine glass against mine. “Not here. Another time when we can talk. How long are the girls here?” We launch into standard table chatter, but I see her glare at our husbands when she thinks no one is watching.
After settling Mariya and Ekaterina in the guest rooms, I meander down the hall to Maksim’s study. The door is closed, and it’s so well-soundproofed that I can barely hear the quiet drone of voices inside.
What the hell,I think, and knocked firmly.
“Enter.”
The men look up as I come in, both holding glasses with a rather generous helping of Maksim’s more expensive vodka.
“Oooo, the Russo-Baltique?” I tease, “What’s the special occasion?”
“Just relaxing,” lies my husband, standing up. The bullet wound in his shoulder is barely making a dent in his movements, still fluid as if nothing could possibly damage The Pakhan. “Would you like a drink?”
“Do you have anything to mix that with?” I asked, knowing that Yuri would choke on his vodka in horror. He does, and I smother a laugh.
