Page 199 of The Lazarov Bratva

“You know, I expected you to be more grateful.” Mara rises from her perch and sets the glass down on the table in front of me, then returns to the luxury of her chair. “Considering I rescued you from your kidnapper.”

I tear my gaze away from the water and lock eyes with her. “Jealous?” I snarl softly. “That he wanted me so badly that he could think of nothing else but taking me?”

Mara’s eyes narrow once more.

“You say kidnapping, but I was so willing, you have no idea. Sure, maybe not the greatest first date, but it was the best thing that ever happened to me. So, no.” I flatten my lips into a line. “I’m not grateful.”

“Of course you see it as the best thing that ever happened to you.” Mara crosses one long leg over the other. “You’re so young that the barest hint of attention puts you on your knees. You haven’t lived. But that?” She indicates to her own stomach as she nods at me. “That will be the best thing that’s ever happened to you.”

“Given your lack of motherly affection, I don’t believe you,” I snort, recalling her utterly cold and distant way of raising me. I was just like the fine glasses brought out at every function—just for decoration.

“Please.” Mara shakes her head. “When you are a mother, you will understand. Or…” Trailing off, her lips twist and something cold lances through my heart at the cruel look in her eyes. “Maybe you won’t.”

Seeking to derail her attention away from my baby, I focus on the next important thing.

“Where is my father?” I demand, pulling at the wrist restraints until Terence places a heavy warning hand on my shoulder. “Where is he? I want to see him. There’s no way he’s going to be happy with you.”

“Oh, you don’t know?” Her tone drips with faux sympathy.

Another wave of nausea rises.

“Sweetie, your father is with your boyfriend.” She leans forward, and her hair moves like liquid, barely a hint of a stray strand. “They’re both six feet under.”

No!

That can’t be right. I would know if Kristof were dead. I would know!

Mara’s cold gaze holds me in place as my pounding heart races faster and faster. The smothering restriction of the rope grows tenfold. I want to stand and stretch my legs, tear my own skin off, and scream at the very thought that Kristof might be dead. He can’t be. There’s no way.

Surely?

“I don’t believe you,” I bite out, even as the sickening sensation that bubbled inside me when fearing why he hadn’t come back returns to my gut.

“I don’t care,” Mara says simply. “You always did try and choose your own truth, Alena. It makes no difference to me. I have what I want.”

She leans back and clicks her tongue, spurring Terence into action. His heavy footsteps retreat behind me, and then he returns with a glass of white wine that he presses into Mara’s hand. She drinks deeply, leaving a lipstick ring on the rim, and then she smirks at me over the edge of the glass.

“You see, men like your father and Kristof are too easy to predict. They’re fueled by ego and old notions of man protect, woman weak.” Mara chuckles. “Once you work that out, they become toys that you can guide toward whatever goal you’re after. Your father, for example. He was so distracted by your absence and his desire to have you back that it became even easier to accomplish what I wanted.”

My heart thumps off-rhythm. Did he really want me back? Given how I grew up, it was strange to consider that he really had been looking for me all this time to the point that it consumed him.

“Oh, don’t look so soppy,” Mara remarks as my face betrays me. “He wasn’t trying to get you back through some sort of fatherly love, believe me. It was all about his reputation and his deals. But now that he walked exactly where I told him to and died exactly how I planned, he’ll do more for me dead than he ever has alive.”

“How?” I demand through gritted teeth, forcing myself to focus on that and not the growing pain that Kristof may indeed be dead. That is too painful to consider.

“As his widow, I’m automatically in charge until a new Pakhan is appointed. For the first time, everyone will see me in charge and they will know that I have been the one guiding the Family through Aleksander for years.” She takes another drink and smiles proudly. “Everyone will love and respect me.”

A scoff escapes me before I’ve even finished processing my disbelief. Mara’s eyes roll.

“No one in their right mind will follow you,” I say sharply, pulling at my ropes to emphasize my point. “They’ll oust you faster than you can say fucking bitch and some new king will take your place.”

“Oh, there will be a new king.” Mara drains her glass and sets it down on the table, then she rises and begins walking slowly toward me. “I will marry Mikhail before anyone even thinks of another Pakhan. I will absorb the power of his Family and make the Orlovas the strongest Family in existence. I will stamp out the rest of the Irish, and fear alone will keep the Italians in line. They’ll like me, anyway. They’ve always been the most progressive.”

Mara reaches me and places one hand on the back of my chair, leaning over me close enough that the stink of her wine breath invades my lungs.

“And when I present my baby to the world, old tradition dictates that people will have to love me, and that will take care of any other fuckers who might try and step out of line.”

My blood runs cold. “No one’s going to care about your having a baby with Mikhail,” I snap, and my arms flex as the urge to protect my belly rises.

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