Page 27 of Scarlet Promise
Isaak frowns then pushes past me. “You look like death.”
“Is that a step up or down from looking like shit?”
“Depends on your perspective,” Isaak says, looking at me with concern. “You also smell like a vodka distillery.”
“Why are you here in the middle of the night?”
He takes the door and shuts it. “It’s almost five, and you weren’t answering your phone from midday on. I grew concerned. I’m your friend. It’s what I do. Sue me.”
“Thanks,” I say. “I guess.”
“Are you okay?”
“Do I look okay?” I snap.
“No, I told you. You look like death. And you’re also impersonating an asshole. Where’s Alina? Albert?”
“Demyan’s.”
“Why isn’t she here?”
“Because,” I snarl, “I almost got her killed.”
He frowns. “Look, I get it. Things got messy. Things get messy in life. Look at what happened with Demyan and his kid, Demyan and his wife. It happens.”
I know he’s right, but Demyan made things right. I messed things up with his sister. There’s a difference, and it’s a wonder I’m still breathing.
“It doesn’t happen to his sister.”
“She’s fine,” Isaak says.
I sigh. “That’s not the point. I should never have put her in that position in the first place.”
“Are you serious?” Isaak asks. “She convinced you, not the other way around.”
“Because I’m selfish.”
“Because Alina might sweet and mellow like honey is, but there’s a real sting there when she wants it. She’s as headstrong and stubborn as her fucking brother. She wanted the marriage, and she wasn’t about to take no for an answer. She wanted to help you out. And that meant something. Besides, it was her choice.”
“To get kidnapped?” I shake my head.
“No, but she’s not some girl from Iowa who grew up with her church-going parents in a town with one lame horse.” He turns and marches off, leaving me no choice but to stumble after him into the kitchen. He sets about making coffee. “Alina isn’t unfamiliar with the bratva world.”
“Demyan and her father shielded her.”
“She still grew up in it. She’s not stupid. She knows how things go. She knows the rules. She knew what she was getting into by marrying you.”
“Not really,” I say, unsure who I’m trying to convince here. Him or me. “My position in Demyan’s household wasn’t pakhan, so?—”
“You think your job wasn’t dangerous? And you think you went into this bratva reckless? That’s not you, Ilya. You think things through. You make difficult decisions. One asshole managing to fool you isn’t your fault.”
“It is.”
Isaak pushes a cup into my hand then makes himself one. “I think you’re blaming yourself because it’s easier than fighting Demyan over this.”
“You’re right. I don’t want to fight him. Not when he’s right.”
“Is he?” Isaak sips his coffee. “That’s a shame because I never thought you were the type of guy to roll over and lie to yourself and give up when things got tough. Demyan can be wrong, you know.”
