Empires and Kings (A Mafia Series Book 1) Read online

  Getting to the heart of her visit, she starts, “Klara’s party—”

  “You’re not invited,” I quickly inform. “The guest list is extended to family and close friends only. You’re neither. I think I made this clear once already.”

  Ignoring my remark, she pushes, “I can help. Faina has a lot on her plate—”

  “The answer is no. Your services are not required there. You’ll do as I say, and you’ll stay away.”

  “My services?” she repeats.

  “Yes, Katrina. That’s what I said.”

  Her face reddens, her anger palpable. “Is that really what you want? You want me to stay away?”

  “I have work. As do you. Get out of my office and go do it.”

  Standing, Katrina pouts but does as instructed. On her way to the door, she turns, cocking her eyebrow before she offers, “If you change your mind and want me to go with you to the little one’s party, you know where to find me.”

  Little one.

  Katrina has no inclination at all that Klara is more woman than she could ever be. The two couldn’t be more different. And I don’t need a taste of both to know this.

  “Close my door on the way out,” I instruct as a good-bye.

  “Come on, Klara. You know Dad will never let me go,” Veni pouts, frowning as he slinks back in his chair.

  The lavish room he studies in boasts high ceilings, lush dark carpet, and white decorative pillars. The area itself is referred to as a reading room, but doubles as a study where Veni spends time learning more than he learns at school. There’s a desk which resembles one you’d find in a high school classroom, positioned in front of a large board that hangs from a wall.

  Three times a week, Faina insists he be given additional lessons to get and stay ahead of the other boys his age. Veni detests the extra work and doesn’t consider further education an opportunity.

  “Why would you want to go to New York, anyway?”

  Being that he’s a sixteen-year-old boy, his excitement in visiting a place so far from here is understandable. He wants to get away from what he knows and start experiencing things he’s never had the chance to before. He’s his father’s son and will soon begin to learn the ways of this world as Vee did.

  “I don’t really know my family. Just my grandparents, Dad, and Faina. I have more out there.”

  Shrugging, he frowns and turns his attention to his dog, Maximus. The large blond and brown Laika sits studiously at his side, lavishing in the attention Veni gives with each pass of his hand.

  Vee’s dog lies near Veni’s feet, unmoving. Meridius is the larger of the two, colored in dark silvers and grays. He’s aloof, never allowing interruptions to take away from his mid-morning nap.

  “Have patience, Ven. I’m sure you’ll go soon.”

  I understand his passion for wanting to meet his family. The same family Faina is leaving soon to visit, only this time I won’t be going with her. I’ll be here with Veni and his dad.

  Vee, as I’ve called him since I can remember, has never said anything malicious or done anything to harm me. He’s always protected me as one of his own, yet because he still considers me a traitor’s daughter, he’s also always held me at arms’ length.

  As I grew, I started growing curious of the man who led this family. His relationship with Faina has always been comfortable, natural. His son’s the same. I’ve always felt safe with him, yet have hardly spoken to him at all. There were also times when Vee caught me studying him closer than I should’ve been.

  His large muscular frame, standing above any other man I’ve ever known, is breathtaking in stature. His deeply accented green eyes could be stunning if they ever truly smiled. I imagine his coarse voice, vibrating with command, would be sweet if its tone ever gentled.

  I have only vague memories of the night I opened the door to the old shed and found what Vee had been doing to my father.

  My dad wasn’t a good man. He wasn’t nice to my mom. I remember he’d drink often and a lot when he was home. During his absences, Mom always worried where he was, who he was with, and what he was doing. She tried to keep her unhealthy curiosity from me, but even at my young age I knew something between my parents was missing. I like to believe my father loved us both the way a man should love his family—the way Vee loves his—but since he’s gone, I’ll never really know.

  After accepting the loss of my parents, I settled in with Faina and the other men I soon grew to love. The transition was difficult, and I was young and scared. Having Veni around, though, even when he was so small, I gradually started to feel as if I belonged. Veni became the sibling I never knew I wanted.

  “Dad says Uncle Nikolay came from Russia to live here. My aunt and cousins came with him. It would be nice to meet them, you know?”

  “You’re sixteen, buddy,” I point out. “How will you get to New York City on your own?”

  With his bright blue eyes dancing with excitement, he replies, “That’s easy. I’ll ask Aunt Faina to take us.”

  Us.

  As the years have passed with Veni and I growing up together, he’s pledged his loyalty to me in many ways. Incessantly so, Veni has vowed to those who will listen that I’m not an outsider to his family but an equal member who just happens to have a different last name.

  There’s no denying my love for him, and especially not for Faina. She’s become like a second mother to me in all ways. Even as a child she cared for me when I was sick, assured me of my fears toward the men who work for Vee, and ensured I had everything I needed to exist where I was able.

  But that’s what my life has come to be—an existence. The hope of one day packing a bag, walking away from the the only home I’ve ever known, and leaving the few here I love behind has faded. I don’t know that I could leave in hope of finding more than I already have.

  Not letting this go, Veni presses, “Do you think Aunt Faina would take us if I asked?”

  “I don’t know,” I answer him honestly. “Maybe?”

  The air in the room turns rigid. The sliver of nervousness I’m used to feeling slithers up my spine, stinging the back of my neck as my hair stands on end. Both Maximus’s and Meridius’s tails begin to wag as they each move to all fours before trekking toward the visitor at the door.

  The raspy voice I sometimes hear in the house in the dark of night breaks into the room. “Veniamin, why are you talking about New York?”

  As Veni and I turn our focus his way, Vee stands alone just inside the door, using his hand to signal the dogs to stop coming at him. He doesn’t make a move to touch them. Rather, sensing their master’s disposition, they drop their heads and obediently sit at his feet.

  Vee’s wearing a faded black tee shirt, the muscles of his defined chest and arms scream in protest of its tight fit. His camouflage pants are faded in color. The pocket on the side is full of whatever he always carries. His black boots are scuffed, much like the stubble on his jaw.

  His entire being demands a person’s unwavering attention.

  Vee’s eyebrow cocks, and he turns to stare openly in my direction. The accusation and annoyance in his gaze directs me to stay quiet.

  Breaking the stringent tie between his father and me, Veni insists, “Aunt Faina says—”

  “Your Aunt Faina says too much,” Vee snaps in return.

  “Right,” Veni sarcastically comments.

  At the same time Vee takes two steps into the room, I stand from my chair and take three back. I’ve learned that with practice and agility, hiding in the shadows and waiting for him to leave comes easier than standing up against the monster masking himself as a man.

  “Aunt Faina told me Uncle Nikolay has seven kids,” Veni proclaims, doing all he can to hide his excitement and play it cool in front of his dad. “And some of those kids have kids, too.”

  “Veniamin,” Vee warns.

  Undeterred, Veni errantly continues, “I have cousins, Dad! Cousins I want to meet.”

  Tersely, Vee disregards Ven
i’s excitement and commands, “Get your books and come with me.”

  “But we haven’t finished,” he objects, turning his gaze to mine. “Miss Clarice is coming back and I’m supposed to—”

  Interrupting Veniamin’s plan, Vee lifts his hand to quiet him. “You are finished. Now you’ll do as I tell you.”

  I watch the excitement in Veni’s expression fall to defeat. If I were braver, I’d explain to Vee that he’s missing an important opportunity with his son, a chance to share in his excitement of learning about a family he’s so eager to meet.

  However, I know when and where to pick my battles, so I say nothing.

  Huffing with his teenage pout, Veni pins me with an annoyed look. “I’ll come find you later. We’ll hang out before dinner. Cool?”

  Reluctantly, my eyes reach Vee’s. In reaction to his son’s statement, his narrow.

  Nodding, I reply, but do it quietly. “I’ll be around, Ven.”

  Satisfied, Veni turns in place to grab his books.

  Sensing his son’s disappointment, Vee reaches for the back of Veni’s neck and pulls him closer before ruffling his hair. Veni utters under his breath, then shoots me a glare in warning not to laugh. He’s always hated when his dad makes him feel like a kid—this includes all outward displays of affection. Even if Vee doesn’t give these often.

  Finally, once his son has settled, Vee uses Veni’s shoulder to aim his lanky body toward the door.

  “See ya, Klara,” Veni bids.

  “Later, Veni.”

  Vee orders his son to do something, but I can’t hear from where I sit. Veni nods before I hear his mumbled “Right” at the same time he shrugs.

  Once he’s out of sight, Vee rests one broad shoulder against the doorjamb and crosses his arms over his chest. The thick veins in his arms bulge. He’s studying me closely, not appearing as tense as he did when he arrived.

  I’m suddenly curious if Vee has ever truly smiled. If he has, I also wonder if true happiness is an emotion he’s honestly capable of possessing.

  As physically frightening as the man in front of me seems to be, there’s a side to him he’s rarely ever shown—a gentler side I’ve only seen glimpses of when he’s with Veni, Faina, or those he deems worthy to be himself around. I wish I were privy to that part of him he must hold so deep beneath his surface.

  Breaking the silence and my thoughts, Vee observes, “In many ways, my son takes after his aunt.”

  “He does,” I concur.

  “Unfortunately, but like Faina, Veniamin thinks only with his heart.”

  “And you don’t agree the heart is capable of thought,” I assume.

  He shakes his head. “No, I don’t.”

  “Veniamin has hopes and dreams as a boy his age should.”

  “Veniamin is sixteen years old now,” Vee reminds me, brushing off my intent. “He needs to start understanding the ways of this world as they truly are.”

  “I think he knows the ways of the world, Vee. He watches you, even if you don’t think he does.”

  Shock and surprise cross his face. Maybe some irritation at my tone.

  “He used to tell me he wanted to be like you,” I put in, unsure if Veni would want me sharing, but feeling Vee should know.

  “Yes,” Vee agrees. “Yes, as in, maybe he used to. I don’t think he does anymore.”

  “He does, but it’s possible he doesn’t know how to tell you that himself.”

  “No matter,” Vee dismisses, visibly torn on what to do with what I’ve told him. “Do me a favor, will you? Be sure you aren’t feeding these ‘hopes and dreams’ as you call them. Nothing good comes from feeling as if you failed. And if Veniamin hopes for too much, he’ll inevitably fail.”

  “I wasn’t—” I try to explain.

  “Failure leads to disappointment,” he concludes, not letting me finish.

  Quickly, before he cuts me off entirely, I defend, “Veni’s excited to know his family.”

  “And when I’m ready for him to, he will. Until then, you won’t encourage him.”

  “I won’t encourage him,” I promise.

  Before turning to leave, Vee’s eyes narrow—not in anger, but something else. Curiosity, maybe. He scans my face, neck, and body. Not that he hasn’t seen me before, but this is different. Unnerving. Awkward. Uncomfortable.

  There’s no way to know and no need to ask because before I can inquire about what he may be thinking, he turns around to walk away.

  “Lucienne made this especially for you,” Abram states, appreciating the dish his wife prepared. “She wanted to invite you to dinner at the house, but I told her you’d say no.”

  And I would say no.

  I have no doubt Abram and his wife’s company would be kind. That their table would be set with various French delicacies. Prayers given to God in thanks would be disbursed, and the evening would end with light conversation over a chilled bottle of white wine.

  However, Faina left for New York two days ago, and I still haven’t spoken to her directly. I heard she arrived there with our family safely, but she’s been avoiding my calls and not returning my messages. She knows I worry, so when I do finally get a hold of her, it may only be to wring her small neck.

  “Tell Lucienne thank you from me,” I return, grabbing the dish, covering it up, and setting it in the refrigerator.

  The kitchen Faina decorated in stainless steel and blood-red walls is located on the main floor of the house. The sliding glass door opens up to the backyard where most times the dogs can be found guarding the house as they should.

  This is also the room I often come to during the night when I’m alone and can’t sleep. Maag, the older woman in charge of the house, keeps everything clean and stocked. The small table where she sits to do most of her work is often the only clutter that can be seen.

  “I’ll tell her, but she’ll be demanding you make a visit soon.”

  Abram Wiles is my closest confidant. My father trusts him, as well, yet Abram and I don’t have the typical working relationship that my father would want. After all these years together, Abram—as well as a select few of my men—are able to speak their minds in front of me. However, they all know the final word in any circumstance is mine.

  Unfortunately, Abram also considers himself to be my self-appointed spiritual guide. He’s not a man of God, per se; he can’t be, considering the countless lives he’s ended. Even so, Abram strongly believes in the divine power that a life after this one exists.

  I don’t share his faith, yet my lack of belief doesn’t deter him from trying to convert me to his.

  “Vlad, are you all right?” Abram queries with concern. “You seem distracted.”

  “I’m fine,” I lie.

  “Are you worried about Faina? She’s rubbing you wrong on purpose. That sister of yours never knows when to stop.”

  “You’re right. She doesn’t.”

  “She’s safe, friend,” Abram assures. “She won’t take off again. Faina’s grown. She’s matured.”

  No, she won’t take off again.

  Fifteen years ago, my sister woke up, packed a few things, walked out of our home on her own free will, and didn’t look back. At the time, she was only turning eighteen.

  She called on occasion, telling me she was taking time away. One month turned into two, then three. I could’ve hunted her down, forced her home. I didn’t. Part of me understood that Faina was a woman, living a life under watchful guard, surrounded by men who most times she had no tolerance for.

  She returned nearly a year later, but she did it with a heavy heart and under the direct threat of our father. Faina never apologized to anyone, nor did she make any attempt to excuse her absence.

  To this day, I still haven’t forgiven her. The fear she’ll run again with so many threats looming is always present.

  “My sister’s selfishness is what happened,” I subject. “And you’re right. She won’t be disappearing for so long again.”

  “Worrying yourself
over what Faina may or may not do won’t do you any good.”

  Grabbing a cold bottle of beer, I shut the refrigerator door and then lean my lower back against the kitchen counter next to it. My shoulders are tense, my head is pounding, and the taste of pending death has unremarkably settled into my gut.

  Changing the direction of conversation, Abram jokingly states, “Veni told Aline that he and Klara are planning to visit New York in the fall.”

  Tilting my head toward the ceiling, I close my eyes and take in a breath while mentally cursing Faina’s overactive indulgence wherever my son is concerned.

  Abram smirks. “I’m sure Faina had a hand in putting that idea into his head.”

  “Veni isn’t going anywhere,” I assure. “At least until he’s old enough to know why he’s going to visit.”

  “He’s sixteen, Vlad. He’s old enough now. When you were his age—”

  In my life, Veniamin follows suit with Faina. I’ve done all I’ve been able to shield him from the life I lead. With my father still stationed in Russia and no one else here to make decisions on my behalf, I’ve gone against all his wishes in bringing Veni into the life I know he’ll eventually succumb to. As far as I’m concerned, the longer Veni is free to be who he is without the complications, the better.

  “He’ll go when I’m ready for him to go,” I restate.

  “What about the girl?”

  The girl.

  Funny how Abram refers to Klara as such, yet only ever doing so in my company. I’ve seen him with her myself.

  When she was a child, Abram looked after her around the house during his visits. He’d teach her simple math using his fingers or spelling sight words as the opportunities arose. He’d make her laugh with funny faces or by tickling her until she begged him to stop.

  As an adult, Klara intrigues him as she intrigues most members of this house—including me. With her young and understated beauty, it’s as if she holds the power to hypnotize whoever she chooses. A man doesn’t need to see to the heart of her, her stubbornness or sensitivity, to understand she’s a rare one-of-a-kind woman with dignity, self-respect, and grace.