Page 31 of Cruel Existence

“Everything okay?” Ciro appeared next to us. Shit. He scared me.

“Yes.” I looked up at him.

“We’re having dinner.” Luka’s jaw clenched.

“But it is getting late. Thank you, Ciro. I think I’m ready to go home. Our meeting is over. Thank you for the evening.”

I caught Luka’s expression of betrayal. I would never be free. I would never be able to escape. The sooner he realized that the sooner he could move on. He needed to stop having hope.

Hope would only get us killed.

Thirteen

LUKA

Aweek passed. Amara didn’t answer her phone. Neither calls nor texts. She didn’t respond to the flowers I sent to her house or the bottle of champagne. I double-checked with the florist to make sure the address was correct.

I felt like a caged lion shut up in my apartment. I paced. I drank. On occasion, I sat in on meetings with my father. I visited the warehouse with Maksim. I listened to Katya complain about Andrey. The wedding was nearing, and she was becoming more desperate to find an escape. I thought about Amara’s cousin.

But nothing changed the fact that all I wanted was to see Amara. There had to be a way out. I searched the drawers in my apartment for a pack of cigarettes I’d hidden, but there were none. Fuck. I had given them up easily, but I couldn’t give up her.

“Ahh, Luka, there you are.” My father had strolled into the library. I had stopped by to pay a visit and see if there were any more leads from Maksim on Ivan’s murderer.

“Yes, Papa. Here I am.” I huffed, returning to my seat.

“What news do you have from Maksim?” he asked.

“We still have the prisoner in holding.” It was a nice way to describe the warehouse where the man who had been captured during my uncle’s funeral was being held.

“And?” He wrapped his manicured fingers on an end table.

“And I believe Maksim and his men are closer to getting the name from him. So far all we have is a description of who shot Ivan. It doesn’t sound like anyone from the families around here.”

“And no family has come forward.” I knew he was only speaking aloud, replaying the facts we had about Ivan’s death.

“No, but as soon as we have a name, I’ll take care of it. Myself.”

He nodded. “He was my brother. His death should be avenged with honor. Dignity.”

“It will.” I stood to go. I didn’t want to get sucked into my father’s maudlin mood about his brother.

“I saw your grandmother,” he added.

“Oh?” I hadn’t made it past the cold and dark fireplace.

“She is upset with you. Although, if you had visited on Sunday like a respectful grandson you would know your babushka is displeased.”

I raised my eyebrows. My grandmother was often displeased. She wasn’t the type of woman to wear a smile. Her eldest daughter, Sasha, was in Russia, married to a man who ran his own crime organization. Babushka didn’t have contact with the five grandchildren there, my cousins. Sasha’s husband was powerful, and controlling, and had never gotten along with my grandmother.

“What have I done to offend my dear sweet Babushka?” I taunted.

My father snapped. “Do not cross her. She has heard about you and the Italian girl.”

I groaned. “It would be nice if everyone would stay out of my personal life.”

He slammed his fist on the fragile table. It was so jarring that the legs rattled against the hardwood floor. “This is not trivial. Respect your grandmother. She is not wrong. Your personal life is our business. You are the Sovietnik now of the entire Novikov family.” He stood, turning toward me. His eyes glowered with rage. “Your meeting with her went too far. The engagement party with her went too far.” Fuck, my mother had betrayed me after all.

I slid my hands into my pockets. I didn’t want him to think for a second his flare-up affected me.

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