Page 32 of Zafira

“She does,” Vanya cut her off, too excited to keep quiet. “Mom is one of twins, but her sibling died a few hours after birth. Our great-great-grandmother was also one of twins, so there...” Vanya pointed at her belly. “Twinsies! We’re having two for one.”

“Good Lord, I sincerely hope that doesn’t mean you’re going to cry and be sweet twice as much as before,” Vadim joked, but joy burst from his eyes at his little sister’s exuberance.

“You better hope she doesn’t morph into Atilla the Hun after the birth,” Arian quipped. “I remember how Mom was after Vanya’s birth.” He cast a sideways glance at Zafira. “Still is, for that matter. Absolutely nothing left of the crying, sweet pregnant woman.”

“Are you saying I’ve become unemotional, Arian, barbarian, even?” Zafira’s body was as tight as a snare. Indignantly, she stared him down. Yes, she had acknowledged she had become lost in her quest to destroy Maranzano to keep her family safe, but she had never wanted them to notice her inner withdrawal.

“Not so much when Vanya was younger, but ever since Dad passed away, and more so over the past two years, yes, definitely. I’d have to say, even though you’re not involved in the family business, you’ve become distant. You might not realize it, Mother, but you have created a shield around yourself, a guard against anything emotional.” Arian was the only one who had the courage to always speak to the heart of the matter.

“Listen who’s talking,” Zafira snapped. “I don’t see your wife by your side, my son. Fix your own fuck ups before you dip your spoon into my porridge, if you don’t mind,” she snapped but immediately became contrite. “I’m sorry, Arian. I shouldn’t have said that. I’m just a little uptight, is all.” She got up and with difficulty offered her daughter and son-in-law a bright smile. “I am so happy for you. Come, my darling, we need to start discussing the nursery. I was thinking about the bright, sunny room in the north wing?”

“You want to turn your private den into a nursery?”

“Well, I assume you’ll be visiting often once you move to Russia permanently. My grandbabies must have a beautiful room they will love here as well.”

“Aww, Mama! That’s so sweet.”

“And there we go again,” Vadim chuckled as the two women walked off, Zafira gently soothing her weeping daughter.

Arian waited until the two women disappeared at the top of the stairs before turning to Bogdan. “You have yet to tell us what you found out from Moartea Neagra.”

“Yeah, I’ve been waiting for you to ask,” Bogdan said as he sat down. “Here’s the kicker. It wasn’t Luciano Maranzano who put out the hit on your mother.”

“If not him, who the fuck was it?”

“You already know what Vanya found, Arian. Why don’t you take a guess?” Bogdan ran a hand through his hair. “Before you ask, no, we have no idea what his association with Maranzano is or if they’re even in cahoots. Our team is searching the dark web to see if they can find any communication or connection between them, but so far, nothing.”

“I fucking don’t understand. I thought they had been house friends since Vanya’s birth.” Arian started pacing.

“So did I, but one thing I can guarantee you is that Triska and Marek Cermak are no friends of your mother.” Bogdan leaned forward. “My gut tells me that had I not removed your mother from Kramár's Villa that night, she’d be in her grave by now.”

Two hours later, Farma de Pasari, Arian’s livestock farm, on the banks of the Dniester River, Dubasari, Moldova...

“How do we keep my mother safe, Bogdan?” Arian asked where he stood, puffing on a cigar in front of the open sliding glass doors leading out onto the patio.

Bogdan didn’t immediately respond, studying him for long moments. His sharp eyes picked up on the deep lines beside his mouth and the dark circles under his eyes.

“Are you sleeping, Arian? You look like death woken up.”

“I’ll sleep when this fucking nightmare is over. I need to keep my family safe, Bogdan. It’s my responsibility, and I feel like I’m failing.”

“You’re not, my boy. You are the foundation and pillar of the family—always have been, even when Viktor was still alive, especially during those last five years of his life. If not for you, the Guzun Bratva would have fallen apart from the direction he wanted to take us in.”

“You’re right. Dad changed. I never knew why. He suddenly interfered in every decision I made, threatening to take over the reins again. I always believed it was because I was failing as the Pakhan of the group, that he was disappointed in me.”

Bogdan’s eyes flickered as a heaviness settled in his heart. He hated keeping things from Arian, but his loyalty had always been with Zafira. What Arian didn’t know was that Viktor had gotten wind of what she was doing, of the underground group she had started forming in rebellion against how he was squandering her father’s money and legacy. Interfering in how Arian had ruled was a desperate attempt at maintaining power that he had lost... not just as the Pakhan of the business but as the husband to a very fiery and confident wife.

“Thanks for that. Perhaps I’m just more tired than I realized.” Arian sighed heavily.

“I imagine the situation with Izolda doesn’t make your life any easier?” Bogdan dared to prod where no one else would.

“It’s over, Bogdan. Trust is such a fickle commodity in a marriage, and it’s the one thing we never had.” He shook his head. “I shouldn’t have married her, especially since I did it for the wrong reasons.”

“Because you didn’t trust her and believed if you married her, you’d be able to keep a close eye on her? Catch her red-handed when she betrayed you?”

Arian frowned but didn’t respond.

“So, how exactly did that turn out for you? Did you catch her betraying you?”

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