Page 112 of Vow of Silence

“Partially, sure.” She runs her palms down her loose-fit pants. “But it’s about more than you and me. If I, your meaningless cousin, was that worked up over your natural charisma, then imagine what it did to your father, thepakhan, to have his daughter steal the focus whenever she was around.”

“He’s not jealous of me,” I scoff. “He resents me for reminding him of what he lost: Mama.”

“He resents you for having the same fucking magnetism that got her killed.”

My lungs seize; her statement means so much more after my discussion with Brigida. “What do you know of how she died?”

Lana stiffens at my tone. “Not a lot. Things I heard my father say.”

“Such as?” I step closer.

She leans back in her seat to force distance between us. “He thinks it was jealousy that had her targeted. Somebody resented her and wanted her out of the way.”

“Why would he think that?” I retreat, finding a place on the seat facing her.

“He never elaborated.” Her gaze finds mine. “Look, Stas. It was a long time ago when I heard him say this. I was a bratty teenager, eavesdropping in places I shouldn’t have been.” She shrugs. “Maybe I got it wrong. Maybe I was confused about what happened to cause her death, but what I said about your magnetism, your charm holds true. You attract attention wherever you go, and it’s not always the good kind.”

“What do I do then?” I relax into the seat, throwing an arm casually over the rest. “I can’t stop being myself. I can’t help the way I look or how I move. Expecting me to act small so others feel better about themselves seems unfair. How is their jealousy, their yearning for things they don’t have, any responsibility of mine?”

“It’s not,” she says. “Which is why I don’t think you should dull your light. You should fucking magnify it, Stas. Blind everyone with your worth. Prove to that arrogant asshole father of yours that you have what it takes.” Her mouth softens into a smile. “Be an inspiration for the rest of your kind and take the throne anyway.”

“It’s not that easy.” I lift a hand to my mouth, gently rubbing the side of my finger back and forth along my lips. “Even if Papanamed me his successor, we’d have the brotherhood back home to convince. Women don’t head the Bratva, Lana. I’m up against some real old-school patriarchal bullshit.” I toss my hand down and huff. “I don’t even know if I want the role.”

“Why not?” She chuckles. “Being a desperate housewife isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, babe. I’m bored. Undervalued.” She slumps, fidgeting with the edge of a nail. “Dismissed. I’d take your opportunities over mine, any day.”

“Look at the bullshit I’ve been through already,” I say. “Imagine how much worse it would be in my father’s position. Like I said.” I flick my fingertip back and forth over the end of the chair’s arm. “There’s never been a femalepakhan. I may as well state my intention to breed unicorns for house pets, for how realistic the dream is.”

She snorts, composing herself in a flash when the double doors to the sitting room sweep open.

“Miss Nastasya.” Dmitry nods toward me and then Lana to acknowledge her presence. “I need you to come with me.”

I sit a little straighter. “Why?”

He moves his attention to my cousin. “Mimi will escort you home.” Lana frowns. “It’s important you go with her and listen to what she tells you to do.”

“Okay.” Lana drags out the second syllable, reaching to gather the bridal catalogs.

“There’s no time for that,” Dmitry scolds, jerking his head. “Go.”

I rise to my feet at the same time as my cousin, eyes as wide as hers.

“Call me,” she instructs before bolting to where Mimi waits in the foyer.

I shift my attention to the soldier before me. “What’s happening?”

His nostrils flare, and he gestures with another jerk of his head for me to follow. “Ignazio is here. He’s stalled at the gate, but it won’t be long before they’re forced to let him in.” He grumbles something incoherent before adding, “Or before he forces his own way in.”

Holy shit.“My father?”

“At the De Santis residence.”

I stash that question away for later and allow Dmitry to usher me into the library. “You remember safety protocol?”

“Of course.” I’d enact it as a child, thinking it was a great game to play. “I left my phone in the sitting room.”Damn it.How am I supposed to reach Benito?

“I called Aleksy,” Dmitry offers as though reading my mind. “They know.”

My heart accelerates as my father’s trusted spy paces around the room, pulling the blinds. I move to the center of the room—where I’m not visible from any vantage points—and wait.

---