Page 9 of Mafia Christmas Vows

The house is covered in pictures. But they’re mostly portraits of like… people who are definitely long dead. Today, I’ve decided to go around and look at all of them, and try to figure out who they are.

I’m in the second room of my journey, staring up at a particularly sour-faced woman, when Elena finds me.

“I brought you tea,” she says, her voice making it clear that she will not accept any other option except accepting the tea.

I take it from her with a smile and sip. I’m definitely a tea person, and this stuff is addicting. “It’s strong,” I murmur, breathing in the heavy, smoky scent of it.

“Yes. Russian tea must get us through the Russian winter, after all,” Elena says kindly.

I shiver.

“Who is that?” I ask, changing the subject as I sip my tea.

“I believe the current prince’s great-grandmother,” Elena replies, her brow wrinkled in concentration.

I pause. “Prince?”

She shrugs. “It is not the same as you might think. Orlov House, and the family of Orlov, are old. Very, very old. When Russia was not so much one place but many, they ruled over their small land here completely. Through many generations and revolutions, the title and the lands stuck, even if the meaning has changed.”

“So… is he a prince?”

“In the oldest sense of the word, yes. But do not forget… many Russians have held higher titles, and in the modern world, it does not matter so much.”

Huh.

“Anyway. He is a good boy, our Alexei. You’ll see,” she says, patting me lightly on the hand.

The way she’s talking him up, I’m pretty sure Alexei is not at all a good boy.

And, given the fact that he hasn’t come home to greet his future wife, I’d say it’s all but confirmed that he’s kind of a dick.

Still, Elena is really nice. She’s been nothing but kind to me since I arrived. She’s firm, but radiates a kind of genuine care that I think is really hard to find these days.

So instead of pointing out that the guy seems like a real asshole, I nod. “I’m excited to meet him,” I whisper.

If Elena can tell I’m lying, she doesn’t give any indication.

“Come,” she says, tugging on my elbow. “Let’s go see the rest of the Orlovs. Might as well get to know the whole family.”

Meekly, I follow her into the hall.

By the time Elena has introduced me to the portraits of every known Orlov since about the year 1300, I’m not only exhausted but have so many Russian names floating around my head, I’m beginning to feel dizzy.

“Thanks so much for the tour,” I finally manage to grit out, squinting at Elena.

She beams. “Of course. Anytime.”

“If it’s okay with you, I think I’m going to go back to my room and take a nap.”

“Anything, dochka,” she winks at me.

I turn in the hallway. “Oh. Um…” I hesitate. Orlov House is enormous, and we just went through the whole thing, so I have no idea where I am.

As usual, Elena seems to know exactly what I need. “Head back down this hall. Turn left, then the next right. You’ll go up some stairs and then your room is the first one on the right.”

I give her a little half-smile. “Thanks, Elena. I’ll see you for dinner.”

“You will, dochka. It will be a very special dinner,” she chuckles.

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