“You’d know,” I said stiffly, not trying to be bitchy, but my mom had died when I was young. Too young to even remember her that well.
Awkwardly, he patted my shoulder. “Sorry, Vicky. I didn’t mean to—”
I raised a hand. “It’s okay, Shay.”
“It isn’t. I shouldn’t have…” He sighed. “Foot in mouth disease.”
“Is that why the boys in your class keep trying to beat you up?”
“‘Try’ is the right word since I broke Jessop’s hand.”
“You sure it’s that and not the fact you held their trust funds hostage for a little while?”
A smile lit up his eyes. “That was all Uncle Conor.”
I smiled back at him, amused by how amused he was at his uncle’s antics. For a kid who wanted to be president, he didn't mind using lawless tactics for his own gain...
Not that that was too unusual in politics.
Still, the O’Donnellys were like no family I’d ever met before. I didn’t mean that in a bad way, either. It was a good way, a very good one.
A sound outside the kitchen drew my attention. I heard Inessa’s moan and groused, “Those two never stop, I swear.”
“They’re still newlyweds.”
“Hardly,” I pshawed, but I didn’t miss the puppy eyes he shot at the door. He had a crush on Inessa, and he wasn’t good at hiding it.
Eoghan might seem placid in most things, but I’d heard him arguing with someone called Driftwood on the phone a few times—I’d almost peed my pants. He was not a man whom you messed with.
And crushing on his wife was exactly that. Shay needed to get over his crush. Yesterday.
“I’d better go. If I missed anything, tough. I’m not going back to that deli. The butcher looked like he wanted to cut off my hand and sell that.”
“Would you say that if he wasn’t Russian?” I sniffed.
“It had nothing to do with his being Russian,” Shay grumbled, “and everything to do with how he kept twirling that frickin’ cleaver of his.” He backed away to the door that led to the maintenance elevator and waved at me as he said, “Let me know if you sucker them or not.”
Smirking, I told him, “Game on.”
He stuck out his tongue as the door closed behind him, and I took advantage of the fact that Eoghan and Inessa were making out to carefully empty the carrier bags and to lay all the items on the counter.
If I served it right, they’d never be able to tell that the items were store bought and not homemade. It didn’t matter if I lost, except Shay and I had a bet running—if I won, then he’d teach me how to kiss. And if he won, I had to teach him Russian.
I emptied the containers, carefully unwrapped the festive treats that I’d been raised eating, and tried not to think about the fact that Papa wasn’t with us this year.
He hadn’t been the best of fathers, but he was all I had. Now, I was an orphan, but it hurt that I was safer than I’d been with him alive.
The thought had me biting my lip as pain stung me, and I focused on making everything appear as if I’d been the one cooking it, disposing of the containers in the trash shoot outside so I wouldn’t get caught.
Forty minutes later, I heard the sounds of voices and knew Camille and Brennan had arrived.
Unlike Inessa who wasn’t particularly nosy, Camille was curious and asked a lot of questions because she felt bad about leaving us.
I didn’t hold it against her like Inessa did, and I was grateful for her interest. Grateful for her, period.
The door opened, and while I saw her, knew it was her, for a second, I didn’t see the Camille of today.
I saw her from before.
It hit me out of nowhere.
The flashback—blood on her mouth.
Hatred in her eyes.
My sister was my hero, and she didn’t even know it.
I hated that this kept happening, but I tried to shove it away to deal with later. She didn’t deserve for me to act weird around her because I kept thinking back to that day when we’d been kidnapped. Held hostage in a room—
No.
Stop thinking about that, Victoria!
Blinking a couple of times in an attempt to shift the memory of watching her bite off the penis of the old man who’d wanted me to be his bride, I rasped, “Zhelayu tebe schastlivoy Paskhi.” Wishing you a happy Easter.
She tipped her head to the side. “Schastlivoy Paskhi, Victoria. Is everything okay?”
I nodded then cast my hands out wide. “A festive feast to remind us of home. Of the good days at home,” I corrected.
Her smile grew as she took in the dishes, and it hit her eyes as they glanced over the Olivier salad, deviled eggs, Kulich, Pashka, and the peljmeni.
“You made all this?”
“I started before we left for upstate New York. The cookies aren’t as good as they were,” I lied.
“I didn’t know you could cook.”
“Lots of things you don’t know about me,” I pointed out, not to hurt, just to deflect, but I regretted it when she winced. Quickly, I tacked on, “You might hate it. I might be a terrible cook.”
“It looks beautiful.” She stepped over to me and said, “I’ll help you take things into the dining room.”
“Tak.”
When she approached, however, I slipped my arms around her and hugged her quickly. She smelled like soap, as if she’d just showered, and she was wearing different clothes to the ones I’d seen her in back at the compound.
“My pleasure, baby sister,” she breathed, kissing my temple as she pulled back.
“Camille?” At her nod, I mumbled, “Eoghan and Inessa are going on another honeymoon soon.”
“Another honeymoon?”
“Yeah. Inessa said he owed her another one.” I shrugged. “I have a feeling she’ll go on a yearly honeymoon.”
Her lips twitched at first, but her shoulders stiffened some. “And you don’t want to stay with Brennan and me again?”
I shook my head. “I wanted to ask if I could?”
Her smile was so bright it nearly blinded me. “Of course! You don’t have to ask! You’re always welcome.” She squeezed me. “I’m looking forward to it. I had a ball last time.”
“Me too.”
It wasn’t a lie.
This had nothing to do with the bet between Shay and I about who could pull off the greater con on our families.
The past six months had been tough, but that I got to spend more time with my sisters was a blessing I’d never expected.
Everything was changing, and it would continue to do so. Shay acted like I had a choice about what would happen when I was thirty, but girls like me didn’t have choices.
Our destinies were written in the stars long before we were pushed out into this world.
Camille had spared me one particular fate, but that didn’t mean she or Inessa could keep on saving me.
Exactly like them, I’d be expected to marry as soon as I hit eighteen.
I just had to pray I was as in love with my husband as they were, and wasn’t as unfortunate as my darling mama…
Fifty-Four
Aoife