Page 4 of Silent Ties

“Probably best the new wife hears it upfront,” Elijah says into his whiskey.

He’s not wrong. My grandfather came up with the motto, after being forced into a marriage with Irina. It turned out well for him, though, with my grandmother being the stronger of the two. Everything he did, he did with my grandmother’s help. He died when I was young, but his love for his wife never diminished during their forty-year marriage.

Supposedly, my dad had the same type of glowing, sappilystupid love with Emma, Elijah’s mother. The British woman came to NYU to study, never expecting to fall for the heir of the bratva. But she did and produced the hellion known as Elijah before an aggressive form of cancer ripped her from our father.

I’m not under any illusion my dad feels the same type of love for my mom, but he’s loyal to her. There are no mistresses, no belittling. Occasionally, there’s some eye-rolling. A lot of eye-rolling, but the Zimin men respect their wives. The marriage alliances due to bratva politicking might be a bit unconventional but we’re not the type of men to bring shame due to divorce.

We handle our shit.

“What’s her name?” A minute later, Roma asks, “You did ask her name right?”

“No.”

Dad rubs his nose, pushing his glass toward my brother again. At this rate, we won’t make it back out to the reception.

“Bold of you to leave her out there on her own,” Elijah notes.

She’ll manage. Or learn to.

Roma’s eyes are on me again.You sure about this, brother?

I do what I’ve done every time he’s asked me that the past few years. I ignore him.

Roma might want out of our life, but I don’t. If the girl, whoever she is, stood there and got married, then that’s not my problem. It’s hers. And she’ll learn that if she has to.

“Come on, aren’t you the least bit curious?” Elijah goads. “I mean you married a psychopath.”

“I think you’re referring to yourself.” Roma loosens his tie.

My older brother slides his glass between his hands. “She married a stranger, a Zimin no less.”

“Seriously, Eli—” Roma’s knee bounces.

Elijah double downs as a shit-stirrer till the end. “There’s only three reasons she’d marry you. Because she wants to die, she’s a psychopath or because Marissa has something on her.”

Warily, Dad leans back into his seat.

“Or maybe she’s one of Marissa’s whores.”

I lunge over the table, yanking Elijah’s tie.

Face red, he laughs. “Look at that. Already protective.”

“All right, enough,” Dad orders. “Imagine if the wedding photographer got a shot of that.”

“Is she one of Marissa’s whores?” Roma asks our dad quietly.

“I don’t know where the fuck she came from.” He shrugs before turning to me. “I suggest you figure it out.”

It used to be we couldn’t go outside without extensive background checks on anyone we might come into contact with. Now my wife could strangle me in my sleep and he could care less.

Music grows louder and then dims as a door shuts.

“Is this where the real party is happening?”

Uncle Dima ties with Elijah for being a man of many contradictions. But their styles are wildly different.

Elijah hides his psychopath tendencies behind amusing smiles and three-piece suits.

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