My uncle claps his hand on my shoulder. “No.” He waggles an admonishing finger. “The deeper the sorrow, the less tongue it has,” he says, reciting an old Russian proverb.
“Maybe that’s what his issue is,” some joker offers up, making a vulgar motion with the v of his fingers and his tongue. “Maybe you should leave her to me.”
“Dima, you old bastard, it’s been so long, I doubt you remember under which arm a woman’s pussy is.”
The table breaks out into laughter as Dima’s neighbor slaps the back of his bald head. But I wait. Wait for it. And it isn’t long before my uncle turns.
“Aleksandr’s sister is very beautiful.” He grins as I send him a withering look. “So secretive, my Kolya.”
“Do I ask you who you’re fucking?”
“Ask!” His meaty hand slaps my back. “I’d offer you them!”
“Thanks, but I don’t need your cast-offs. And I’m not interested in Aleksandr’s sister.”
“She would make a good wife.”
With an impassive glance, I bring my sake cup to my lips.
“Don’t look at me like that.” Maybe not so impassive, then. “A wife can be a valuable asset. A helpmeet. Someone to raise your children, when the time comes. She need not curtail your proclivities.”
“And what proclivities are those?”
“I don’t profess to know,” he blusters as his gaze flicks down the table to Sergei. “But I hear things.” Then he grins.
“I’m twenty-six. I’m not looking for a wife.”
I warned her not to fall in love with me, and she laughed, like I was fooling myself.
“Look at it like this.” He pauses, making a show of considering his next words. “Sometimes you have to do in the short term what is better for the long term. A family such as hers. Kolya, think of the circles that will open up to you.”
“I’m going into business with her brother. That will be enough.”
“Yes, yes. A gentleman’s club for those with very particular tastes. I begin to wonder what they taught you at these fancy schools. Too much corporal punishment, eh?”
“You’re welcome to come for a lesson. Thornbeck caters for all tastes.”
“I am a simple man,” he answers. “I like plain pussy. Blow jobs.” Hands open, he shrugs. “Canes and whips are not my thing.”
But we both know that’s not true because I’ve seen the relish he has for causing others pain. He’s a little old these days to resort to fists, but I’ve seen the damage he can cause when wielding a knife. Which gives me an idea. I reach for the earthenware tokkuri and top up his sake cup as my other hand feeds into the pocket of his jacket, which hangs on the back of the chair. Slipping out his trusty switchblade, I slide it into my own pocket.
More drinks are had as dishes of yellow tail, octopus, and tiger prawns are passed around the table. Talk turns to business, the conversation switching exclusively to Russian. I’m not expected to offer an opinion. As my uncle likes to remind me, my father intended for me to be something other than a criminal. And so I listen. I learn. Then I excuse myself from the table, making my way into the main part of the restaurant.
I see the back of Isla’s golden head, her hands wildly gesticulating as she tells a story. With a dark glower, her companion spots me, so I return his earlier acknowledgment with a jerk of my chin.
I can feel his eyes following as I make my way to the restrooms.
Leaning against the pristine vanity, I wait.
Alistair—floppy—was an easy fix. It’s amazing what a private banking group will do when you threaten to withdraw the entirety of your funds. Off to Geneva for him.
It’s ridiculous, I know, the lengths I’ll go to. If I can’t have her, no one else can?
It makes me sound like a fucking psycho when I’m as sane as the next (insanely jealous) man. But in all seriousness, if I can’t have her, and clearly, I can’t because that old bastard out there will just spoil everything, I’m not letting anyone else defile her. Not until I work out how I can safely have her in my life. Because there has to be a way, I think, pinching the bridge of my nose.
The door swings open, and before he can utter a word, I’m on him. I drive a hard left to his stomach, and a right to the kidneys, leaving him without breath to speak. I thrust my forearm across his neck, flattening him against the hand dryer, his eyes flying wide as I flick open the switchblade.
“Nice of you to join me, Jack.” I rest the flat of the blade against his cheek. “Are you a bit of a Jack-the-lad, I wonder?”
He flattens his head against the wall and almost shakes his head, thinking better of the motion. “N-No. I’m not. I really like her.”