Chimera (The Korsak Brothers #1)(80)
“Yeah. It just got to be too much trouble.” I reached out to sling an arm around Michael’s shoulders. “Uncle Lev, this is Michael. He’s my girlfriend’s nephew. I’m running him up to see New York for a few days. She insisted. Male bonding and all that.”
Black eyes glittering with good cheer, Lev took Michael’s hand and pumped it. “Nice to meet you, young man. Come in. Come in. You delicate sunbirds can’t handle true weather.”
In the cavernous foyer, I shook the snow out of my hair and took in the vision that was Lev Novikov. It was barely eight o’clock; yet he was already dressed in a snowy expanse of shirt with suspenders of deep blues and purples. His tie matched perfectly and the creases in his pants were knife sharp; at least they were until they reached the swell of his stomach. Both chins were damply clean and gleaming with aftershave. He was a big man, but Lev had made his way through four wives, all of whom had adored the overgrown cherub up to and even after the divorce.
“You’re looking good, Uncle,” I said, grinning. “Working on wife number five yet?”
He returned my grin with a sly one of his own. “I’ve a few damskee ygrodnik in mind, angels all.” Clapping his hands, he went on briskly. “Now, you’re just in time for breakfast, and I’ll hear no arguing on the matter.”
Behind him an unassuming figure stepped forward to take our jackets. Dressed in dark gray, he wasn’t British and his name was Larson, not Jeeves, but he fulfilled Lev’s desire for a butler all the same. He’d worked there nearly twenty years and had seen things that guaranteed him a paycheck miles above that of any other domestic servant.
We walked across marble floors in the traditional checkerboard black and white and found ourselves in a dining room in royal reds and rich gold. The table was already set for three. No time had been wasted once the call had been received from the guardhouse. There were servers massed with eggs, sausage, bacon, and fried potatoes. There were also plushki, a type of cinnamon bun, and bleeny, Russian pancakes with honey and jam. Crystal pitchers of orange, raspberry, and apple juice topped it all off.
“Sit, boys. Sit.” Lev waved an expansive hand. “Stefan, tell me what you’ve been up to. Are you still doing byk duty? Tschh, you could do so much better than . . . ah . . .” He gave Michael a glance and finished circumspectly, “You could do better. I wish you’d let me pull some strings for my favorite godson.”
He had to know Konstantin had been killed. Lev might be retired, but he’d have to be in the ground not to have heard that news. This was his way of hinting around for a bit of private discussion time.
“I think it’s safe to say those days are behind me, Uncle Lev,” I said neutrally as I took a seat and began filling up my plate as my brother did the same beside me. It would be best to keep up the pretense that Michael was in the dark when it came to my career, at least as Lev knew it. Muddying the waters was the last complication I needed at the moment. “We could talk about it after breakfast, if you want.”
“Good.” He poured himself a glass of juice. “It’s always a smart thing to keep your options open, Stefan. Your father would be the first to say.”
“Speaking of which”—I swallowed a bite of bleeny that melted in my mouth like spun sugar—“have you heard from Anatoly? I’ve been trying to contact him.”
“No, no. Haven’t much expected to, what with . . . you know.” He waggled long curly eyebrows that bunched and leaped like black and white striped caterpillars.
The feds. I nodded and stabbed a fork into a piece of sausage. “I know. I was just hoping.”
“I’m more than happy to step in until your father can be here, krestnik. That’s what godfathers are for.” His large head turned to take in the sight of Michael already cleaning his plate and loading up with seconds. “Look at the little ytenok go. You’ve a man-sized appetite in that skinny body, little one.”
“Yes, sir. I’m a growing teenager.” He said it so earnestly that I was forced to smother a grin behind a swallow of coffee. That grin turned into a silent groan as I saw a small furry head peek from Michael’s jacket pocket. I should’ve known he wouldn’t leave his beloved vermin in the car.
The rest of the breakfast passed amiably. Uncle Lev told me his daughter was expecting twins and that his son-in-law still wasn’t half good enough for her. Considering he’d broken the legs of one of her boyfriends while she was in college, it was actually high praise. He also laid out his plans to travel to Europe in the summer on a three-week singles cruise and invited me with arm-waving enthusiasm. I said, politely, that I would think about it. After we had finished plundering and pillaging the table, I sent Michael off to one of the entertainment rooms while I got down to business with Lev.
The minute Michael disappeared out of the dining room, Lev leaned his not inconsiderable weight back in the chair and folded his hands over the girth of his stomach. Lips pursed, he shook his head woefully. “Stefan, Stefan, Konstantin could be a real zasranees; no one knows this better than I. But tell me you didn’t pop one in the back of his head.”
I pushed my plate away. “Uncle Lev, you know better than that.”
Shrewd eyes measured me and then he sighed. “I do. You’re smarter than that and also a little too soft, I’m thinking.”