Velvet Devil: A Russian Mafia Romance (68)

“Sorry to interrupt the meeting, but I’d like a word with my sons, please.”

Vlad and Lachlan leave immediately. Lachlan closes the door on his way out.

“Was that necessary?” I ask, turning a stern glare on my mother.

She sighs. “Are you really meeting with Maxim?”

I roll my eyes. Fan-fucking-tastic. Another person with input I didn’t ask for.

“The decision has been made, Mama,” I say, trying to be patient. But between this meeting and Camila, I feel fully maxed out on patience.

“But what purpose does it serve?” she insists anyway. “Are you planning on changing your mind and calling a truce?”

“Not likely.”

“Then it stands to reason that he’ll be of the same mind.”

“I’m counting on it.”

“You’re spoiling for a fight?” she asks, sounding vaguely disappointed.

“No, but I am prepared for it.”

Bogdan takes a step forward, putting himself between the two of us. That’s been his default position over the years. “Mama,” he says, “I’m worried about this meeting just like you are. But even I know that putting an end to Maxim is essential to the future of the Bratva.”

“Must everything be about the Bratva?” she says with a sigh.

“We are Bratva,” I say firmly. “It’s in our blood. There’s no point in pretending that life encompasses more than that. Nor does it need to. The Bratva is enough. The Bratva is everything.”

She shakes her head. “He’d be proud of you.”

“Somehow, I don’t think you mean that as a compliment.”

A spark of regret flashes across her eyes. She’s always been an expert at hiding her feelings. Or maybe I’m just incapable of studying her objectively. When I look it her, all I see is the woman who used to sing and press kisses to Bogdan’s bruises when he was a clumsy toddler.

If she ever sang to me, I can’t remember it. I’m guessing Otets put a stop to that early on.

“He raised you to be a strong don,” she clarifies. “And that’s what you are.”

Something pricks at my attention. A shade in her expression, a slant in her posture. “Mama,” I say softly, “what aren’t you telling us?”

Bogdan looks at me with a frown. Then he turns the same expression on her. “What do you mean? What does he mean? You’re not keeping something from us, are you?”

She’s quiet at first. Contemplative. Then she looks up from the ground and meets my eye. “You remember the house you boys grew up in, don’t you?” she asks.

“Of course,” says Bogdan.

I nod.

“Well, at one point, it wasn’t just us there. There was a time when we all lived together. Yakov and Svetlana lived in one wing and Vitaly and I lived in the other. I had you, Isaak,” she says, looking at me. “And Maxim was born a few months later. It should have been some of the happiest days of my life.”

“But?” I press.

“But the environment in the house was tense. Svetlana never liked me. And after our sons were born, that dislike only became more pronounced.”

“Why?” Bogdan asks.

“She felt like she needed to compete with me. She felt like she was always compared to me, but those comparisons were all in her head. She created a rivalry that didn’t need to exist, and I’ll admit, I played right into her hands. She was also intimidated by Vitaly’s ambition. And she resented that, despite the fact that Yakov was the don, your father was the one that had the men’s respect and loyalty. Suffice it to say, the moment Yakov was buried, the rumors started.”

“This is ancient history, Mother,” I interrupt. “We know it all. We know that Svetlana was the impetus behind those rumors. We know she poisoned Maxim against Otets. Against me. Tell us what we don’t know.”

She takes a deep breath. Her eyes fall back into the past and for a long time, she stays there.

“I have something I need to tell you both. I’ve kept it from you for long enough.”

Bogdan and I wait. The room is silent, but the air feels like it’s crackling with the electricity before a thunderstorm.

“Those rumors weren’t just rumors,” she says finally. “They were true.”

I stare at her. “Which part?”

She looks down. “Your uncle didn’t have a congenital heart defect. That’s not what killed him. Vitaly did.”

I focus on Bogdan’s expression. It’s like I’m staring at myself. My own reaction. Shock lances across his face, but his eyes convey a stubborn denial that resonates in my core.

“That’s a fucking lie,” I snap, breaking our loose semi-circle.

“Isaak—”

“Don’t fucking speak,” I growl, lapsing back into my don’s voice. “Not unless you plan on speaking sense.”

“Just because you don’t want to believe it doesn’t mean it’s not true.” She looks between the both of us helplessly.

“Mama, this… it can’t be true,” Bogdan sighs.

“Do you think I would have told you both if I didn’t know for sure?” she asks. “I’ve known for years. I heard your father discussing it with Dr. Yevgeni.”