ANTON
I’m in the billiards room. The French doors that look out over the back lawn and pool are thrown open to let in a breeze, but it’s a failed effort. No breeze to be found. Only the scent of freshly-mown grass and stillness in every direction.
Then a shadow passes quickly by the doors.
“Yulian.”
I feel my brother’s caution before he even appears in the doorway. He’s steeling himself to face me. He knows he’s fucked up.
But when he doubles back to the doorway, his expression is a carefully manufactured mask of calm.
“Come in here,” I say as he hovers awkwardly by the threshold.
I lean against the billiards table as he approaches me, his expression turning sheepish. “Wanna play a game?” he asks.
I smirk. “Why? We already know I’d win.”
“You’d cheat, you mean.”
“I never cheat.”
“That’s not what Marina claimed when you were married.” He says it with a smile, but it dies the moment the words leave his mouth. He even pales as he waits for my reaction.
“Care to repeat that?” I snarl.
His eyes flicker across the room, checking to make sure it’s just the two of us. Then he sighs and slumps forward. “Sorry. I thought that would be funnier out loud.”
He was never good at saying sorry. Even as a little boy, he hated having to ask for forgiveness. Which is what Otets made him do every time he mouthed off to me.
“He is not just your brother, but your future don,” he’d say. “You will ask for forgiveness and you will take the punishment you’re given.”
I never punished him, though. I like to think it’s what created the trust we now share. He knows I always have his back.
I wave away his apology. “I asked you to do something for me two days ago.”
He frowns. “That’s all I’ve been doing the last couple of days. Lev gave me the short list of weapons dealers yesterday and I’ve been vetting the list of candidates we could possibly replace Benyamin with.”
“That’s not what I mean.”
He frowns. “Huh?”
“The girl, Yulian,” I say impatiently.
“Oh,” he says, his eyes widening with realization. “The girl.”
“Her name.”
“Jessa… Gilmore,” he says at last, even though it takes him a minute to remember her last name. “Right. The girl.”
“What does that mean?”
“Jesus, bro, I didn’t realize finding her was this urgent.”
His carelessness annoys me. Mostly because I don’t want to be in a position where I have to justify my interest in Jessa.
“She has my fucking phone,” I growl.
“Yeah, but it’s locked,” he points out. “It’s not like she can access anything that’s inside it.”