I peeked through my hair again to see Mother embracing Amara, but it looked awkward and stiff. And that was because our mother wasn’t really our mother anymore. She didn’t care about her children. Our father had twisted my mother up and turned her against her own children.
“It’s so good to see you, Amara.” Mother pulled back, her hands curled around Amara’s shoulders as she smiled at my sister. “Married life suits you. You’re glowing.”
Amara’s face turned pink, and she cleared her throat before saying, “Thank you.”
Mother finally addressed Amara’s husband. “Mr. Petrov, a pleasure.”
He gave her a tight-lipped smile. “Oh no, Fernanda. Call me Nikolai. We are, after all, family now.”
Mother appeared flustered but inclined her head. “Claudia,” she finally acknowledged me. It was the first time she had since we’d been brought into the sitting room as we waited for Amara.
And when I finally steeled myself and glanced up, I saw the wash of emotions on Amara’s face as she stared at me.
“Claudia,” Amara whispered and was standing in front of me a second later. “What happened?” She reached out and let her fingers hover over my face as if she were afraid to touch me.
“It’s nothing. An accident.” Mother spoke, but Amara didn’t look away from me.
“Father did this.” Amara’s voice was so low I knew I was the only one who heard.
“It’s fine,” I said in a hard whisper. The last thing I wanted to do was talk about this. With anyone.
Amara reached out to take my hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze, followed by a slight nod. I knew what she was trying to say without uttering the words. It’ll be okay.
After a prolonged moment, Amara exhaled and looked over my shoulder at her husband. I did the same, seeing Nikolai’s jaw set hard and anger on his face. And then his focus turned to me. I saw a muscle under his jaw clench and relax before repeating the action.
“I know Marco mentioned having a word with you before we sit down for dinner,” our mother addressed Nikolai.
He casually placed his hands inside his coat pocket and stared down at her with a blasé expression. “And where is he? He couldn’t greet us at the door? He sent you to be his errand boy?”
I bit my lip at the tone he used speaking with Mother.
A startled gasp left our mother. “Excuse me, Mr. Petrov?”
Nikolai gave her a tight smile. “You heard me. How about you tell Marco we’re waiting in here for him? If he needs to speak with me, he can walk his ass to his own sitting room and address me himself instead of sending his wife to do it.”
Mother’s face turned red and she bristled, but she also knew her place and held her tongue. Instead of speaking, she smoothed her hands down her dress and nodded once before side-eyeing Amara and me, then leaving the room.
When she was gone, I couldn't hold in the little laugh that bubbled out of me. Amara and Nikolai stared at me. “Holy shit.” I laughed even harder. “That was probably the greatest thing I’ve ever seen.”
No one spoke for several long moments, and then I heard the heavy footsteps of my father approaching. My mother’s heels clicked on the tile as she no doubt followed closely behind.
I was suddenly pulled off the couch by Amara, her hand clasping mine as she walked us over to where Nikolai stood.
A second later the sitting room doors burst open and our father’s anger was like a rush of heat and decay that filled the room. His cheeks were colored beet red, his dark eyes narrowed on Nikolai.
Mother stepped in behind him, turned to close the door, and then moved off to the side where she could clasp her hands behind her back and stay silent like a good little Italian wife my father had shaped.
Weak. I’ll never be like her. I’ll never let a man control me the way Father does with Mother.
“You come to my home, insult my wife, and demand things from me?”
There was this weird tone in Father's voice, as if this had nothing to do with the way Nikolai had spoken to Mother.
That was clearly something deeper going on between them. No doubt issues within the Bratva and Cosa Nostra association.
“You forget who you’re talking to, Bianchi.”
Nikolai didn’t move, didn’t raise his voice. He seemed almost… bored.
“Sporco bastardo russo del cazzo! Dovrei sventrarti come un pesce e dare da mangiare ai cani le tue viscere. Non sei degno di essere collegato alla mia famiglia.” You dirty Russian fucking bastard. I should gut you like a fish and feed your entrails to the dogs. You’re not worthy to be connected to my family.
I felt my eyes widen at the horrible things he said to Nikolai.