“Part of?” I ask, opting to continue probing Ogla. I need to have an accurate assessment of my situation so I’ll be able to deal with it.
“Yes.”
“What does part of mean?”
“It means he’s a member.”
Trying to get information from this woman feels like pulling teeth, but I rein in my exasperation. “He seems higher up, having guards and living in a mansion.”
“He is.”
“How much higher up?”
“Right under the Pakhan.”
I heard that term once. “Is that the leader of the mafia?”
“The leader of the brotherhood, yes. Mr. Volkov is the brains behind most of the operations.”
Again, I should be surprised, but I’m not. Adrian seems like the type of bastard who strategizes from the background to inflict more damage with fewer casualties.
But now that I know he’s that higher up, I don’t know why I’m suddenly nervous. A thousand thoughts occupy my mind and the most prominent of all is that I shouldn’t be here. The second one is that I’ve landed myself in trouble.
However, it’s not like I had a choice. It was either become a mafia man’s wife or rot in jail.
Though, the more time I spend in Adrian’s company, the more seriously I entertain the jail idea.
“If you’ve finished your breakfast, you need to study,” Ogla pulls my attention to the present.
“Study?”
“Follow me.”
I do, not sure where she’s going with this. She leads me to a sitting area and motions at the coffee table, on which there is an iPad and a phone.
“That will be your phone. My number is three on speed dial. Kolya is two.”
“Kolya?”
“He’s Mr. Volkov’s second-in-command.”
“Oh, is he Bulky Blond or Crooked Nose?”
She pauses, probably at the terms I’ve used. “The bulkier one.”
“What’s Crooked Nose’s name?”
“Yan. He’s four on speed dial.”
“Let me guess. Adrian is one?”
“Yes, but you’re not to call him unless it’s a matter of life or death and you can’t reach any of us.”
“I won’t be calling him at all, thank you very much,” I mutter.
She narrows her eyes but doesn’t comment on my tone, so I ask, “Is the iPad for my entertainment?”
“It’s for studying.”
“Studying what?”
“The brotherhood. You’re Mr. Volkov’s wife, and while he doesn’t take you out frequently, you have to make a few appearances per year by his side. For that, you need to know about the structure, the hierarchy, and learn the names of everyone in the brotherhood and its closest circle.”
“But why? I thought he’d tell everyone I’ve lost my memories.”
“That’s out of the question, Mrs. Volkov. You need to act as you did before.”
“But you guys know. You and Kolya and Yan.”
“We’re loyal to Mr. Volkov. People on the outside aren’t.” She tips her chin toward the iPad. “You’re expected to learn that within a week. If you have any questions, ask me.”
She then turns and leaves, her heels clicking on the wooden flooring. I flop on the sofa and wince when my ass burns, the feel of Adrian’s hand on me barging back to the forefront of my mind. The way he touched me so firmly, surely, with no hesitation whatsoever. He provoked a part of me I didn’t think existed, a part that intrigued and scared me at the same time. Fear is definitely more present, though.
I gather the iPad in my hands and flip it open to find a document that’s hundreds of pages long. Holy hell. Who took the time to write this? I was never much of a reader, so this will be like pulling teeth.
But hey, at least there are pictures underneath every name.
I’m about to start when I recall something far more important than all this.
Jeremy.
I was too preoccupied with my craving for alcohol earlier—still am—that I forgot about him. I abandon the iPad and shove the phone in my pocket before I head upstairs, where I assume his room is. I go in the direction of Adrian’s bedroom, thinking he and Lia would’ve put their child near them.
After trying a few doors, I don’t find Jeremy’s room. It takes me several more attempts at the opposite side of the hall before I spot a young woman shutting a door. She’s blonde with her hair cut short, not in a provocative way, but more in a book nerd kind of way. Freckles line her cheeks and nose and she has honey-colored skin. She carries a tray of cereals that appear to be untouched and doesn’t notice me as she goes down the hall. Are there other stairs over there? I’ll explore them later.
I creep to the room she left and stop in front of it to suck in a breath before opening the door.
Sure enough, Jeremy is sitting on the floor, surrounded by countless toys. His hair falls over his forehead in desperate need of a cut. His eyes are a shade of gray that seems mysterious, even for a kid. He looks so much like Adrian, it’s a little disturbing.
Although he’s playing, there’s no expression of joy. Only concentration and sadness, like there’s something inside him that’s missing and he’s trying to fill it by playing.
“Hey, Jeremy,” I say softly.
His eyes snap up, fingers freezing on a toy soldier, but then he lifts it and throws it against my chest. It hits my breastbone before it drops to the ground.
“Get out!”
Aggressive, it is.
But somehow, I can see past his aggressiveness and to the reason he’s acting this way.
The look in his eyes says it all. It’s part of why I felt out of sorts and fainted after the first time I met him. I share that look, but on the opposite side.
He misses his mother and I miss my baby girl.
We’re both two incomplete pieces who might have been brought together by fate.
Or his asshole father.
When I don’t attempt to leave, he throws another soldier at me. “I said, leave.”
I close the door and approach him slowly so as not to trigger any negative reaction. When he doesn’t throw anything else at me, I crouch in front of him, bringing myself level with him as I soften my voice. “Are you sad that I left before, Jeremy?”
“No.” His lips tremble around the word as he grabs a soldier in each hand.
“I was, though.” My own voice shakes as I see my daughter through his innocent eyes. “I missed you so much that I couldn’t survive in the world without you. It became so bleak and boring. All I wanted to do was to find you.”
“Then why didn’t you?” he whispers, peeking at me from beneath his lashes.
“Because I have to live for both of us. I couldn’t die, baby.”
“You were going to die?” His voice holds so much fear, I internally kick myself in the butt for it.
“No, of course not.”
“Really?”
“Really. I’m here, aren’t I?”
He head-butts the two soldiers together and stares at them as he murmurs, “Are you going to leave again?”
“Absolutely not.” I meant it as a lie, but the words come from my mouth like the truest thing I’ve ever said.