Where the Sun Hides (Seasons of Betrayal #1)(28)

“Russians seem like they understand a lot of things.” Her father scoffed loudly. “Then they turn on you the first chance they can. You can’t trust them, Violet. Don’t you understand that?”

She nodded, but she didn’t entirely believe him.

Kaz didn’t seem untrustworthy.

Not when he looked at her.

Not when he kissed her hand, and smiled like he had.

Violet ignored the tightening sensation in her throat, and the heat dripping down her spine all of the sudden. She certainly understood her interest in the Russian, as far as that went. Not only was he seemingly charming and good-looking—extremely so—he was also entirely off-limits.

She would have to be stupid and blind not to be a little curious.

“What would happen if they did?” she dared to ask quietly.

Alberto raised a single brow high. “Did what, ragazza?”

“Came further into Brooklyn, or beyond Brighton.”

“Some of them often do,” Alberto said offhandedly, almost like it didn’t matter at all.

Violet’s brow furrowed. “But—”

“You’re a girl, you see, so you have no need to be involved with the affairs of men and their deals. I simply made sure as you grew up that you knew where my limits and lines were for you to follow and not cross, Violet. As far as the Russians go, we often allow them into Brooklyn beyond just Brighton Beach. We turn cheek to them being there, because they are neither doing business, nor creating business for themselves. And therefore, not encroaching on our business. Whatever the Russians demand of their people as far as territory goes, I cannot say.”

“Is that why you always warn me to stay out of the lower parts of Brooklyn?”

“Exactly why.”

Violet fingered the pages of her textbook. She didn’t really understand what the Russians did for business, and she didn’t think that asking her father would get her any answers. She wasn’t even entirely sure she understood what her father’s Cosa Nostra did to make money.

Girls weren’t allowed to know.

“Vasily Markovic,” Alberto started to say.

Violet’s head snapped back up at the surname, curiosity instantly simmering through her blood. She knew the name, and who the man was, but she decided to play stupid for her father’s benefit. “Who is that exactly?”

“The Russian boss. He has a daughter that lives in the upper part of Brooklyn. I overlook her residence because she has no real connection to her father’s business, and she is simply working to build her brand. Vera is her name; she’s quite a successful interior designer. If she weren’t Russian, your mother might have had her come in to design that new studio she wants. Apparently, the woman has a good eye for spaces.”

Vera.

That meant Kaz had at least three sisters, and a brother. Violet filed that information away with the rest of the little bit she knew about him.

It wasn't much.

She shouldn't want to know anything about the man at all. Not with who he was, the people he was affiliated with, never mind her father’s very obvious dislike of the whole bunch.

Yet she did.

She still did.

“But Manhattan,” her father continued, drawing Violet out of her thoughts. “Amityville, even. Those places are off-limits to the Russians entirely. No matter who they are, or how docile they seem.”

“I haven’t seen them again,” Violet repeated, hoping her father believed her.

“I only want to keep you safe, Violet.”

“I know, Daddy. And I’m doing what you want.”

“I’m aware.” Alberto sighed, pushing up from his desk. He reached over into a glass bowl and pulled a pair of familiar keys from it. “I have something for you.”

Violet tried not to smile at the sight of her car keys. “Okay.”

“I don’t like not trusting you, dolcezza. But you’ve done well for the last little while, and it leads me to think that maybe the club incident was just bad judgement on your part. So these,” he said, shaking the keys, “... are conditional.”

She dropped her textbook in her lap in just enough time to catch the keys when her father tossed them at her.

“How so?” Violet asked.

“Manhattan is a free zone for you. You can drive yourself wherever you please. Brooklyn is not. I expect to you have Gee drive you, or follow you, depending on where you’re planning to go. Lower Brooklyn is still—”

“Off-limits, I know,” she interrupted quickly. “Anything else?”

She was just happy to have a little bit of freedom and her keys back.

“Yes, there is,” Alberto said, chuckling. He quickly sobered. “As much as I want to trust you, I can’t entirely do that without feeling like you might pull the wool over my eyes in some way, Violet. Once you’ve treated me like a fool, I won’t give you the chance to do me wrong again.”

Violet swallowed back her denial, knowing it wouldn’t help.

“To be sure you’re following my rules, I will have Gee pick you up from wherever you are whenever I deem it suitable for him to do so. I will call you, and you will answer, no matter what. Depending on where you are to where he is, you will have that amount of time to be ready for him to pick you up, and drive you to … whatever. Dinner, one of your mother’s showings, or something else.”