“Of course I do.”
I laugh and continue to eat as Nadia clears up from her preparation for tomorrow’s event. “Why don’t you take a break and have some dinner with me?” I suggest.
Her brows pull together. “You know I can get in trouble for doing that.”
“In trouble with who? My brother and father have already left for the evening.”
She glances around the room before breaking into a smile. “Oh, what the hell. Why not?” Nadia grabs a dish and loads it up with some beef stroganoff before sitting next to me.
“Thank you. It’s nice not to eat alone for once.” I take a sip of water before continuing to devour her stroganoff. “And you deserve a break and chance to refuel, it looks like.” I gesture to the trays of canapes and other dishes wrapped up and ready to be put into the walk-in fridge below us. “I’ll give you a hand moving it all downstairs after dinner.”
Nadia shakes her head. “Where did you inherit your kindness, Anya? As it certainly wasn’t from your parents.”
I bite my inner cheek, knowing that’s true. The only family member who I knew who was ever kind was my grandmother, but she died when I was little.
“I don’t know,” I lie, as I always get emotional talking about grandmother Katia. For many years as a child, if anyone told me to make a wish, I’d wish she were still alive, until I lost all hope in wishes and gave up.
“Well, I’m glad you are the way you are,” she says, nudging me.
I smile, dipping the rest of my fresh bread into the stroganoff sauce and savoring the flavor. My father and brother would tell me I’m pathetic for befriending the staff, as in their eyes, the staff is below us.
I’ve never felt the same. Everyone in this world is equal to me in my eyes and I’m no better than the staff our family employs. In fact, I have more in common with Nadia and many of the other staff than I ever have with the two men I’m related to.
* * *
The chatterof hundreds of people invading my home echoes up the stairs from the pretentious ballroom adjoining the dining room. I stop on the landing at the top of the stairs and draw in a deep breath, trying to prepare myself for a night of boring conversation with balding, middle-aged politicians and businessmen who simply want to leer at my cleavage all night.
“What are you waiting for?” Yulian says from behind me.
I turn to him. “Hello to you too.” It’s the first time I’ve seen him in a week and that’s how he greets me. “I’m preparing myself for a night of bullshit conversations.”
He chuckles. “I have to agree with you there. This event is a fucking drag.”
“Then why don’t you suggest canceling it? After all, one day you will be in charge.”
His jaw works. “And when I’m in charge, this event will go ahead as always. They’re important for the Bratva even if they’re boring as fuck.”
Yulian may be my brother, but we couldn’t be more different. He thrives in my father’s world of crime and power, whereas I despise every aspect of it, not only the crime aspect, but the bullshit pandering to politicians and businessmen.
He pushes me down the first step. “Come on, we’re both late.”
I glare at him. “You may be late, but no one is waiting for me.”
Yulian shakes his head. “Wrong. Father intends to introduce you to someone. He won’t be happy that you are late.”
“Introduce me to who?” I ask.
Sighing, he steps around me. “If you want to find out, then you’ll have to walk down those stairs.” He glances at me over his shoulder. “You’re going to want to meet this guy.” There’s an ominous glint in his eyes.
A glint that tells me really I’m not going to want to meet him. No doubt my father is considering another suitor for me to marry.
I walk down the stairs and fight my way through crowds of people in my own home to enter the ballroom, which is overly crowded. The ball is in full swing as a lot of the guests are dancing and having a great time.
It’s easy to feel like an imposter in my own home, as I’ve never felt I belong in this world of the oligarchs of Moscow. From the look Yulian gave me, Father intends to make me dance with potential suitors tonight, the thought of which makes me sick to the stomach.
Arranged marriages are commonplace in Russia, although they’ve been dropping in popularity throughout the eighties. In the business my father conducts, it’s standard to expect to be married off as the daughter of a Pakhan to the most powerful Bratva in Russia.
I’ve known since I was little that was going to be my fate.