She tipped her head in mocking acknowledgement. "Come on, baby. Let's go and find Babushka."
Nikolai grabbed her outstretched hand, giving me a wave with his other hand. "Bye-bye, Kon."
It was better than Uncle Kostya, I reasoned to myself as I felt the familiar burst of temper rise up in me.
In the present, Elena met my eyes across the room. Her watchful gaze didn’t flinch or dart away, instead our stares collided. Every piece of me ached to go to her side, to stand beside her and make it clear who she belonged to. I wanted to ask her about the races and listen to her thoughts: who do you think will win? Which horse was your favorite? I wanted to tease her about her horrendous hat and sore feet.
It took every ounce of self-control in my arsenal, but I didn’t let myself move.
Elena would come to me. It was her–not me–who’d coming crawling back first.
I felt my old patience return slowly to me. It was the same patience that had me waiting for my kingdom, the one I slept on while I was a young man and running rampant on the streets of Moscow. It was the same feeling that had me stewing over Elena, waiting for her to succumb to the love I had for her.
Patience. One of my virtues, one of my flaws.
I had always been the snake in the grass, the fangs beneath the beautiful flower.
The facts remained the same. My Elena had decided to stay, and even though many challenges still lay before us–Titus, parenting, each other–she was in my orbit and therefore, in my grasp.
My love, my son, my kingdom. I would have it all.
All I had to do was be patient.
The corners of her lips curled inward like she could hear my thoughts. I tipped my glass towards her in celebration. She didn’t return the gesture.
A few men brought me into a conversation about Hilarion as a stud, but I kept Elena in the corner of my eye. The only time I turned away was when my phone rang, my niece’s name popping up. I excused myself from the group to take it.
“Oh, Uncle Kostya,” Natasha exclaimed as I soon as I said hello. “I’ve been having such an awful time, but so have you. Is it true then? Elena has returned? With your heir?”
I turned my back to Elena, trying to give myself more privacy. Her stare felt hot on the back of my neck.
“It is.”
She let out a high-pitch giggle. It was hard to tell if she was laughing out of celebration or cruelty. For Natasha, it was most often both. “Another Tarkhanov! The world shudders in horror as our bloodline extends. And a cousin for me–I couldn’t be happier. I didn’t think I would get any cousins–it’s hard for dead men to procreate.”
“Yes, it is,” I agreed. “You might get some more cousins if you keep dragging your feet.”
“I hope not. I don’t think I’d enjoy killing children–not like your little sister, or wife, or aunt. I forget, what role did Tatiana play in your family again?”
I surveyed the race ground before me, the perfectly cut grass and colorful array of dresses. “Careful, Natasha. I’ve killed everyone who stood in my way. Can you say the same?”
My niece was ready to take control of Russia, but for some reason the twenty-year old hadn’t made her move her. She had kept putting it off since she was eighteen and had amassed enough power to comfortably take control. Natasha had gone into hiding to protect herself from my brothers who now sought to snuff her from the map, but she still hadn’t made her move.
I didn’t think it was because she’d suddenly grown a conscience and was afraid to kill her father. Patricide was something Tarkhanovs did quite well. No, my niece was waiting for something.
“Not yet, Uncle Kostya,” she said. “But soon.”
“I look forward to it.”
“Perhaps I’ll do it in time for your birthday. I’ll send you your brothers’ heads as a celebratory gift. I’ll keep my Papa’s, of course. Daughters should always get to keep their father’s heads.” Natasha couldn’t have sounded more casual if she had tried. “Will you let Nikolai keep your head?”
I let out a rumbling laugh. “Careful, Natasha. I am still your uncle.”
She let out another girlish giggle. “I’m so thrilled you have an heir, Uncle Kostya. And that the lovely Elena has returned to you. What should I bring to the wedding? I was thinking a pot of Foxglove–or do you have enough of that?”
“You’re feeling awfully brave today, Natasha. Perhaps you should use this newfound courage for something else besides teasing your uncle.”
“Perhaps you’re right.” Natasha fell silent. “She has not returned for good?”
I won’t ever leave again. “She has.”
“Yet…she has not returned to your bed?” I could almost picture my niece in my mind. Her white-blonde hair surrounding her mischievous expression as she poked her nose into something that was not her business. “Curious.”
“Are you bored, Natasha?”
“Always,” she answered immediately. “I’m finding the world so mundane lately. There is nothing interesting to see or discuss. Is this getting older, Uncle? Is falling out of love with life a part of adulthood?”
I looked over my shoulder at Elena. She remained in the corner of the room, but Danika had joined her. The other girl was speaking rapidly while Elena stayed quiet and listened.
When I had first read her journal article, I’d been curious about the mind behind the words. Curiosity had quickly grown into obsession as she had eluded me, and then revealed herself to be the young daughter of a Cosa Nostra mafioso. I would never forget the first time I had laid eyes on her, seen her beautiful features in the background of a photograph.
I would also never forget how I had been denied her hand and then learned she’d been married to Thaddeo Falcone.
I had wanted to Lombardi’s territory; it was more prosperous and vibrant. But…it was missing one crucial thing: Elena.
The excitement, the thrill, the passion. All those emotions I had felt during the hunt for Elena’s heart. Nothing in my life had ever compared to the pleasure that her touch brought and the adrenaline her words stirred inside me. I had never let anyone else so close to my beast, to the monster that lay beneath the charismatic exterior.
There was nothing boring or mundane about our relationship, about our love.
“Yes and no,” I answered my niece’s question but didn’t take my eyes off Elena for one second. “Life becomes familiar, not less exciting. But the predictability makes it easy to enjoy the unpredictable moments. Boredom is good, Natasha, it means you will feel excitement again.”
Natasha made a thoughtful noise. After a moment of silence, she asked, “You’re looking at her, aren’t you?”
“I’m always looking at her.”
She sighed, almost in longing. “I am overjoyed to have an aunt, to be able to love more Tarkhanovs. That is new and interesting.”
Elena met my eyes, her lips parting as her expression opened in vulnerability. I went to step forward, to cross the room to her, but stopped myself.
Patience.
I’d enough of discussing my relationship with my niece. I would rather deal with greedy investors who wanted to stud my stallion. I declared, “Take Russia, Natasha. Take your kingdom.”