Page 59 of Mistaken
Safely back in the car, Mariya bursts out, “Does that poor man have any idea what kind of a leech Katya is?”
“He was so big,” Ekaterina said, “he looks like a bear who learned to walk on his hind legs.”
“Enough,” Mother interrupts them, “no more criticism on Christmas Eve, this is the time for love for your fellow man.”
Yuri and I exchange glances. There would be no love lost between those two families and ours, and their union is not good news.
Yuri follows Ella and me up to our private sitting room. “This reeks of disaster,” he says sourly, loosening his tie.
“You must admit they are perfect for each other,” I said, “both narcissistic sociopaths.”
“Who was that guy?” Ella asked, taking off her high heels with a relieved sigh, “he looked like he’d just discovered indoor plumbing.”
Yuri laughs, but I shake my head at him. “Vasily Shevchenko is an enforcer for his uncle’s Bratva in Kazakhstan, they are the most vicious organized crime outfit in the entire country. They’re responsible for thousands of murders, and sex-trafficking victims from Eastern Europe to brothels all over the world.”
“Interesting, though, that Katya would be paired with him,” Yuri mused, helping himself to my vodka. “He’s not high up in the organization. He’s an enforcer, not even aSovietnik.I’m not sure I see the value of the union to her father.”
“She was definitely excited to introduce you to her beloved fiancé,” Ella contributed, “but it was more of a ‘look at my new toy’ vibe.” She paused for a moment, “Or a warning? Like, look at what’s coming your way?”
Running my finger over my lower lip, I considered her appraisal.
“She picked the right place for it,” Yuri added, “she knew you couldn’t menace her, not at the Christmas Eve mass. I’m going to check in with a few people and see if she was introducing Shevchenko around, any details she might have dropped.”
“Thank you, brother.” I gripped his arm. “Ella, are you ready to go downstairs for dinner and the fortune-telling?”
Her face brightened. “Fortune-telling? This sounds interesting.”
As I guided her to the dining room, it occurred to me that for the first time as Pakhan, I had discussed business in front of a female member of our family. She’d contributed to the conversation. And it seemed perfectly natural to have Ella there.
Chapter 17 – Troubling Fortunes Told
In which troubling fortunes are told, lots of stuff gets blown up, and Ella gets a reality check from Lucya. Because life is like that with the Bratva.
Ella…
To say that I’m ridiculously excited about tonight is an understatement. I just want thirty-five minutes where no one is shooting at us or trying to drown me. The memory of being pressed underneath the ice in the current of the Neva River halts me for a moment on the stairs, making Maksim look at me in concern.
“Are you all right?”
I look at him, blue eyes so vivid and intent on me, watching my expressions, his thumb stroking my wrist and checking my pulse, his arm holding me carefully. Whoisthis man?
“I’m fine,” I nod firmly like that’s going to totally sell it. “This is going to be fun. We can both use some uncomplicated fun right now. So, explain the history with the fortune telling?”
“It’s a custom that evolved pre-Christianity, and it’s not approved of by the Russian Orthodox Church, but everyone still participates.” Maksim puts his hand on the small of my back, leading me in another direction I haven’t explored yet. How big is this place?
“So, is there a psychic who comes to the house, or…?”
One corner of his mouth turned up, not quite a smile but showing he found something amusing. “The early traditions were a little outrageous. Imagine unmarried, young women in, say, the 1500s meeting in a bathhouse in their nightgowns, their hair down and loose, to read fortunes.”
I have no problem with laughing, “Seriously? That’s so sketchy, and their parents were okay with that?”
Maksim shrugged, “Well, the other tradition involved these young, unmarried women stepping out of their house on Christmas morning and asking the first man they saw what his name was. Supposedly, that would be the name of the man they married.”
I slowed down a bit, enjoying the talk and not wanting to lose him to the rest of the family yet. “Now that we’re no longer tossing young women in their nightgowns into sticky situations, how does it work?”
“Sofia Ivanova is a well-known psychic in St. Petersburg,” Maksim says, turning left into yet another hall, “she’ll read our fortunes with her Tarot cards.”
“Has she been accurate in the past?” I meant it teasingly, but his face grows dark, like a shadow over the sun.
