Where the Snow Falls (Seasons of Betrayal #2)(18)

Kaz’s sharp reply was at the ready, but Konstantin beat him to it, and in a way that Kaz wouldn’t have.

“Enough.”

Viktoria’s lips pressed together at the sharp command from her brother, not daring to say anything more—no one ever did.

No one would have thought Konstantin was ever capable of being serious, not when he found humor in most things, but there was another side to him, the one his father had groomed and sharpened—the one that would make him a formidable boss once he took the reins.

So when he gave a command, there was no question as to whether it would be heeded.

“I think we’re done now, no?” Konstantin asked, pushing his seat back and getting to his feet.

Viktoria frowned down at her plate. “I’m not—”

Konstantin didn’t give her a chance to finish before he was snatching up her unfinished plate and tossing the food in the trash before setting the plate and utensils in the sink. When he looked at his sister expectantly, she silently climbed to her feet and grabbed her coat without meeting anyone’s eyes.

“Give me a call when you’re ready to get started,” Konstantin said as he clapped Kaz on the shoulder. Then, without warning, he touched a hand to Violet’s back, just a quick touch that couldn’t be mistaken. “Pleasure seeing you again, Violet.”

She mumbled something in return but seemed too shocked by the situation to say anything more.

Without a word to anyone, however, Viktoria was out the door ahead of Konstantin; the sound of a car door slamming was heard before he could even close the front door.

It was after their departure that Kolya stood, readying to leave as well. He stepped off to the side with Kaz as Maya spoke with Violet one last time.

“You’ll need to get on this,” Kolya said, never taking his eyes off his wife. “Whether for yourself or for her, you only have so long before someone comes knocking.”

“I hear you.”

And he did.

If Vasily didn’t know where he was by now—and Kaz had no doubt he’d been searching—he would within the next twenty-four hours. Undoubtedly with some assistance from Alberto Gallucci.

And he wasn’t ready for him to enter the equation just yet.





Violet tipped her head back at the feeling of Kaz’s fingers threading into her hair. From behind the couch, he looked down at her, leaned over to give her a quick kiss, and then straightened back up again.

“Stay inside,” he said. “Out of sight.”

She knew better than to argue with him, despite how nice of a day it was outside with the cold. Nice weather for a walk, but Violet had yet to explore the community the townhouse was located in—and they had been in Chicago for a week.

Always, she was told to stay inside.

Kaz came and went, without much explanation as to what he was doing, not that Violet minded enough to ask.

But she was getting a little bored.

And curious.

“Violet?” Kaz asked, drawing her out of her thoughts.

“Hmm?”

“Inside, out of sight. I’ll be back soon.”

She straightened back up on the couch, sighing. “Inside. Got it.”

Kaz tugged playfully on her hair again. “Don’t pout.”

Violet grinned, unable to stop the action. “I thought you liked that?”

“Another time,” Kaz responded, smirking in that way of his.

She tipped her head back for another kiss before he disappeared out of the living room, and she heard the front door close as he left the house. As much as she pretended she didn’t mind when he had to go, once he was gone, everything else felt a little colder.

The townhouse was too quiet.

TV was boring.

At least, when Kaz was there, she could entertain herself with him. Violet wasn’t used to sitting around doing nothing and … waiting.

Well, that was how Kaz put it.

She wasn't sure what they were waiting for exactly.

Flipping through the television channels, Violet tried to find something interesting enough to keep her attention diverted from the restlessness burrowing deep in her nerves. She understood Kaz’s demands, as far as that went. It was likely people were looking for them—their fathers, most importantly.

She just didn’t understand why he could flash his face in public, but she had to stay put.

Violet had just found a familiar sitcom she enjoyed and got herself comfortably situated on the couch when a ringing started to echo throughout the bottom floor of the townhouse. It took her a full ten seconds to realize it was the house phone. Since their arrival, that phone had rung maybe twice.

And once was a restaurant calling back to confirm the address when a deliveryman had lost it on his way over to deliver their dinner.

Violet scrambled off the couch and went in search of the ringing phone. She found it hanging in the kitchen. Not thinking that she shouldn’t answer the call—Kaz hadn’t said anything about the phone—Violet picked it up.

Her standard greeting—born of habit and culture—was right on the tip of her tongue.

“Ciao?” she asked into the receiver.

“Ah, Italian, even better.”

Violet straightened at the unfamiliar, gruff voice on the other end of the call. While she didn’t know who was calling, the accent was one she had grown used to. The caller’s next words sealed any confusion she might have had left.