Rosa pauses, coughs racking her body. Leo pours her a cup of water and offers it to her with a straw. She is struggling, but I don’t suggest that she rest her voice. I need to hear what she has to say. Our mother was gone for months with no explanation other than she was sick. We did not know what that meant at the time. We were just scared and confused kids trying to act tough, missing our mother with a father consumed by his own grief, and distracted by the empire he had to run.
“No one was supposed to know about your mother’s pregnancy, even other staff members. Just me and a doctor were assigned to her, and we were paid very handsomely to tend to her needs and keep our mouths shut. And we did. Your father would come to see her from time to time, but as her belly began to swell, he stopped. Just sent money and nothing else.” Her eyes glaze over with memory. “That destroyed your mother.”
The silence in the room is nearly deafening. Pieces of a puzzle click into place. The empty spaces of our childhood that didn’t add up come into focus. I squeeze my eyes shut, leaning my head against the window, waiting for Rosa to continue.
“Dahlia confided in me. We spent months together, just me and her, walking the grounds of the hospital, sharing meals, learning about each other's life. Your mother was a gentle spirit, as you know. She loved your father once, but he hardened over the years. His work was all-consuming. It ate at his soul, the lives he had to take, the war he waged every day on the streets. But it ate at your mother’s soul as well. The violence was a stain on your family, not just blood on your father’s hands.
“That’s why she tried to remain innocent. She didn’t know your father’s rivals, and didn't want to know bratva business. She kept herself naïve to protect her heart, but in the end, well, it might be what led to her death.”
A creeping cold licks down my spine. Even the air in the room seems to go still as we take in her words. My father could be distant and calculating and only became more so as he fought to build his own empire on American soil. My mother was different. She was soft and lovely and cared about the world. She resented Papa after a time—but never resented us, her children, that tied her into this life.
Another labored breath as Rosa struggles for oxygen. “See, your father knew that your mother was depressed,” she rasps. “She was struggling to adjust to mafia life, struggling at the loss of so much basic freedom, so he allowed her small pleasures. She took swimming lessons and an art class at the local college, little things that brightened her day. And that’s where she met him. His name was Maxim. Another Russian expat, an artist in her class. He wasn’t especially handsome, but he was kind, and most of all, he doted on her. She wasn’t looking for trouble, never meant to betray your father, but after being neglected for so long, she craved attention and that’s what Maxim gave her. He seduced her. With her bodyguards always around, it was hard for your mother to get time alone with him, but she found a way. It was a brief affair, but that’s all it took.”
Fuck me. I exchange looks with my brothers, communicating without uttering a word.
“Your father knew it wasn’t his child, and he was furious with her. But he also loved her deeply, and couldn’t bring himself to kill her, so he sent her away for the problem to be swept under the rug.” I nod. In our world, an affair is grounds for murder. As hard as Papa was, I’ll give him credit for that. He couldn’t hurt his belovedzhena.
“Your mother gave birth to a baby girl in the spring—a beautiful girl named Kira with a healthy set of lungs, and a tuft of blonde hair. It was a long birth, and it took a lot out of your mother. She slept all day after, barely able to rouse and nurse her newborn.” Rosa is quiet for a moment, eyes focused past Leo on something only she can see. Her voice is softer when she speaks again. “The next morning a man came to the hospital, a man who claimed to be Maxim, the baby’s father. He had guards with him. Honestly, they looked like thugs. Before I could wake your mother, or do anything to stop him, he took Kira from the nursery, and left. Just like that, and not one person tried to stop him.” Her eyes shine with unshed tears. “I tried to do something, to say something, but all my objections fell on deaf ears. Dahlia called your father, but it was too late. The baby was gone, and your mother was… she was destroyed.”
Rosa shakes her head, devastation still shining in her eyes. Whatever happened that day continues to haunt her. Another coughing fit wracks her body, and Leo brings the cup of water up to her lips for her to take a drink. He tenderly helps Rosa lie back down. As soon as her head hits the pillow, her eyes close, and she rests, too fatigued to continue. We all sit and stare at her prone figure for a moment, each one of us blinking, absorbing what we just learned.
“Do you have any information on Maxim, the father? Where he could be?”
Rosa opens her eyes and blinks up at me. “Maxim wasn’t who he said he was. Certainly not a starving artist. Maxim wasn’t even his real name. He was a fraud.”
My gut sinks and I fight against the nausea that roils within me. That Oleg is Kira’s father isn’t a surprise. But learning that he used our mother as a pawn in a dirty mafia game is gut-wrenching. Squeezing my fists, it takes every bit of strength for me not to lash out.
Our mother was never the same after she came home, taking her own life only a few months after she was discharged from the hospital. The vision of my mother hanging lifeless from the rafters in the garage still haunts my dreams years later, as I know it haunts Daniil’s as well. We found her. Two kids grabbing their bikes from the garage. A moment forever etched into our brains, into our very being. My father shipped us off to boarding school shortly after, refusing to deal with the emotional fall-out. Leo was too young to understand what happened. But Daniil and I, we bear the emotional wounds. I’ve learned how to tamp it down, far down where it’s not real. Where ugly shit gets buried.
And here we are, kicking the hornet's nest. Twisting our own insides. All in the name of finding a sister that we didn’t even know we had until a few months ago. But this is what our mother would want, for us all to be together.
Rosa—a woman I will be eternally grateful to—is softly snoring, finding refuge in sleep. “We need to move her out of this shit-hole,” I say to no one in particular. “She deserves better.”
Leo nods. “I’ll take care of it.”
I know my brothers are hurting just as much as me but I can’t bear to witness their pain right now. I’m too consumed with my own.
Walking out of the room, I find Yulian standing guard by the door. Reading my expression, he knows better than to ask how it went. He knows what I need.
“Boxing ring?” he asks, as we start down the stairs.
I nod. It’s that or I need to find my salvation between Georgia’s thighs. Slamming deep inside her, feeling her from the inside would help extinguish the fire in my veins, but I don’t want to go to her until I’ve taken the edge off, afraid of what I’ll do to her if I don’t rid myself of this crazy energy first.
“Yeah, let’s head to the ring. Grab your mouth guard and jockstrap. I’m gonna need a few rounds.”
Chapter23
ANDREI
I am spent. Boxing has that effect on me. Takes all the restless energy and eats it up, funnels it, directs it like a laser into something that leaves me exhausted. Once I’ve worked some of the rage out of me, I’m back to feeling numb.
Numb equals logical. Cool-headed. Objective.
A good place to be.
I slump against the ropes of the boxing ring, taking a long drink of water. Yulian is long gone, having walked out of the ring half-dead an hour ago. I chuckle, thinking back to when he lifted his hands in surrender and told me I’d have to find another sparring partner for the rest of the day. When no one showed up, I hit the punching bag relentlessly until the buzz in my veins died down to a slow burn.
“You’re looking sweaty.” My head whips up to see Georgia step into the gym. She’s wearing her raven hair down in waves that cascade over her shoulders. Skinny jeans and a t-shirt somehow still show off every curve and heat thrums under my skin.