Page 11 of Mafia Prize

Vadik Sidorov died last night after a two-year battle with colon cancer. The funeral is this afternoon.

I sit up. Andrei’s father had colon cancer. Is that why Andrei took over the Sidorov Bratva? Not because he craved power but because his father was deathly ill?

I had it so,sowrong.

And if I was wrong about this, then what else am I wrong about?

No matter what my family needs, Mirabella, I would never putanyoneabove you.

I jump to my feet and struggle out of my engagement dress into something less hideous. “What happened?” my sister asks.

“Vadik Sidorov is dead.” I find my phone and order a taxi to take me to the airport. “I need to talk to Uncle Renzo, and I need a plane ticket to Moscow.”

Elisa’s mouth falls open. “What about your engagement party?”

“I don’t care.”

To her credit, she doesn’t try to talk me out of it. Instead, she says, “You’re going to Andrei Sidorov’s father’s funeral. Is that a good idea?”

“I don’t know.”

“The Sidorov family hates us.”

“Not all of them.” I wipe my palms on my black pants. March in Moscow won’t be warm. I’m going to need a thicker coat. “At least, I hope not.”

She gives me another long look, and then a small smile tilts her lips. “I’ll put this in your bag, shall I?”

Thisis the gift-wrapped box. “I don’t think I’m allowed to keep the engagement presents if I call off the wedding, Elisa,” I say dryly.

“Mmm.” She puts the box in my bag and heads for the door. “I’ll go find Uncle Renzo.”

10

It’s snowing in Moscow when I land. I head outside, shivering despite my many layers. It takes forever for me to get to the front of the taxi line, and when I get into one, I discover my cab driver speaks no English. Thank heavens for the Translate app on my phone.

“Novodevich'ye kladbishche, pozhaluysta,” I say, mangling the pronunciation almost beyond recognition.Please take me to Novodevichy Cemetery.

The driver turns around in his seat and says something to me in a stream of rapid-fire Russian. I must look helpless, because he mutters impatiently and pulls his own phone out of his pocket, types something on the screen, and shows it to me.

The cemetery is closed today. Private function.

“Yes, I know.” I type those words into the Translate app, nodding insistently as I push the screen toward my cab driver. “Please go there anyway.”

He shrugs and says something that I’m guessing translates to ‘crazy tourist.’ He puts the car in gear, and we set off downsnow-covered roads. It takes an hour to get there. The traffic is horrendous, made even slower by the winter weather. The ceremony would have gotten underway by now, and I’m going to be horrendously late.

Everyone who is a power in the underworld will be at Vadik Sidorov’s funeral. Andrei’s family, his friends, and his enemies. Ekaterina Nekrasova will probably be at his side, clutching his arm and crying beautiful tears. His mother, Anna, and his sister Natalya. Neither of them has cause to love my family. Butterflies flutter in my stomach, and I almost want to throw up from sheer nerves. What was I thinking, rushing over here so impulsively? What if Andrei doesn’t want to see me?

We finally pull up in front of the cemetery. A pair of gun-toting guards stand in front of the gates, barring the way in. It’s not for show; the guns are Kalashnikov assault rifles, and the guards look like they know how to use them.

I pay my fare and step out of the cab, and my driver speeds off immediately. One of the guards blocks my way. “I’m sorry,” he says in unaccented English. “The cemetery is not open to tourists today. There is a private function.”

He’s making it obvious I don’t belong here. Normally, I wouldn’t let him intimidate me, but I’m pretty sure he’s right. “I’m not a tourist. I’m a friend of Andrei Sidorov.”

The two guards exchange skeptical glances. “Do you have an invitation?”

Funerals have invitations? I guess that makes sense. How else are you going to keep the riffraff out? “No,” I admit. “But if you find Andrei, I’m sure he’ll confirm?—”

A dark-haired woman walks by just then. She hears my words and looks up, and I recognize her from pictures. Natalya Sidorova, the second-in-command of the family, Andrei’s younger sister.

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