Esme
It’s definitely my cousin, even though she’s taken pains to change up her look a lot since I last saw her.
Her hair is now a platinum blonde that clashes slightly with her darker complexion. Her makeup is heavier, too, and I realize it’s been daubed on to make her nose appear thinner and her lips appear fuller.
She’s wearing a tiny yellow mini skirt, with black knee highs and a faux fur jacket. She looks like a girl I’d walk across to the other side of the street to avoid.
Which is exactly what I plan on doing.
“Esme!” she exclaims, then claps a hand over her mouth like she shouldn’t be saying my name at all.
We maintain eye contact for maybe three full seconds before I spin around on my heel and try and march away from her.
“No,” she calls after me. “Wait! Esme, please!”
And the pleading tone is what makes me stop short. I turn hesitantly, and Tamara runs towards me, her eyes filled with regret.
“Esme,” she says again. “I thought you were… I thought you were dead.”
I’m burning up with anger, but I choke that down for now. “Almost. But not quite.”
She flinches back as though I’d slapped her. “I’m sorry,” she says in a quiet voice. “Please forgive me.”
I clench my jaw. This is the last thing I expected or wanted today, but now that I’m confronted with Tamara, it’s hard to turn my back on her.
Despite how she betrayed me.
“You—”
“I haven’t had any contact with Budimir since that day in my apartment,” she interrupts, putting her hand over her heart. “Cross my heart and hope to die.”
“You will die if you ever lie to me again,” I snap.
I surprise everyone with those words. Alik, Gennadi, Tamara—and most of all, myself.
Who do I sound like?
The wife of a mafia don.
I don’t have time to worry about that, though, not as both my bodyguards step up behind me. I hold up my hand and they stop reluctantly.
Tamara’s eyes go wide as she realizes that I’ve got muscle at my back.
“So Artem’s alive then?” she says, glancing back to me.
“Why? Are you going run and make a call to his uncle?” I demand.
I see the hurt and defeat pass across her eyes. She shakes her head slowly.
“You have every right to believe I would do that,” she says. “But I wasn’t lying when I said I’ve had no contact with him. I served my purpose and he had no further use for me.”
“He’s not a man who rewards the people who’ve helped him,” I tell her. “You chose the wrong man.”
“I didn’t choose anything,” Tamara retorts, her tone sparking alive for the first time. “He threatened my life. He threatened the lives of all the people I loved. What was I supposed to do?”
I stare at her, at the desperation in her eyes. She wants me to absolve her of her guilt.
I truly believe she hated betraying me to Budimir.