Chapter 18

Just after lunchtime, I go to the library and lay out some newspaper. My stuff and painting supplies from the Sokolov Securities offices have finally arrived. It feels good to wear my old hoodie and sweats, even if they're tattered. It brings some sense of normalcy to this craziness.

Soon after the steaminess, Dimitri's alarm went off, and he had to leave. He had to go into the city, make an appearance at the office, and then handle whatever business Bratva people have to handle. I wonder if I should feel lucky to have stayed here, but I wish I could help.

I start a new piece, letting my imagination go wherever it wants to, not thinking about it too much, just letting it flow. I end up sketching the outline of a woman holding a baby. Earlier, when we were half asleep, I'm sure Dimitri said something about me being a mom. I'd be a good mom or something, but maybe I was dreaming.

"Miss," Yuri says from behind me. Dimitri ordered the butler to stay here, along with extra security around the house. "Miss Petrov would like to speak with you."

"Sure, Yuri. Thank you."

It feels awkward having a butler, but when I tried to make a joke with Yuri, he seemed uncomfortable. I cover the sketch with blank paper, not wanting Mila to see it.

When she walks in, I can tell she's had as little sleep as me. She's showered, but her eyes are pits, and she has a drawn-out look. She approaches with her hands clasped, almost making me angry at how nervous she seems. She has a coddled princess look, but it's not fair. Her life is hell. Her brother is trapped. I need to have some compassion.

"How are you feeling?" she asks.

"Not bad, actually," I say, answering honestly. Maybe I should feel worse, but there's something so secure, so powerful about Dimitri. I know he'd fight any demons for me. "You must be worried sick."

She sits on one of the many chairs in the room, staring at the bookshelf as though it's not there. It's like she's watching her own private horror show. "I have to get him out of there, poor Drake…"

"I hope you don't mind me saying, but that's a really interesting and surprising name for a Russian."

"It's not his real name. Drake is ten, and already he can see through Dad's crap. He wants nothing to do with him."

"How can you get him?" I ask. "Without me… I mean."

"I don't know," Mila mutters, rubbing her face. "I don't even know if he would've given Drake up if I brought you. He scares me so much. It's like I can't think. It's like I don't even know who I am. He can twist me up so easily."

"Not anymore," I say. "You're here now. You're safe. You're protected."

Mila sighs. "Maybe I am, yeah."

"I want to help," I tell her, "but it's like you said. Your dad wouldn't even give Drake up."

"Maybe…" Mila bites the inside of her cheek, looking lost. "Could you ask Dimitri? He might listen to you."

"If they go to war with your dad, even more people will suffer."

"Is this you speaking or Dimitri?"

I don't take the bait. "It makes sense."

"Please," Mila says. "Can you try?"

I know I made a logical point, but I can't ignore the emotion in her voice and her eyes. Maybe this is a good example of the deficiency inside me. I can't put my own sibling in Drake's place because I never had one. I can't imagine what it's like.

"Okay," I tell her.

I find Yuri on the back porch reading a book. When he hears me, he springs to his feet with his hands behind his back. "Yuri, would you be able to call Dimitri for me?"

"Certainly, miss, though he may be busy."

Part of me hopes he is busy. I want to help Mila, but I also remember how brazenly those men attacked us in public. What if Mila's dad takes over, and they do that to more people? What if some of those people are orphans and don't have a sister or a Dimitri to look out for them? What then?

Trying to force these doubts down, I follow Yuri into the main entranceway. Mila is waiting in the library for me, probably biting her fingernails. Yuri makes the call. "Sir, Miss…" He raises an eyebrow at me, a look of complete embarrassment on his face.

"Meadows," I tell him.

"… Meadows would like to speak with you."

He nods, then hands me the receiver, an ornate golden piece. When I first walked past it, I was sure it was an ornament and wouldn't actually work.

"Don't sweat it, Yuri," I tell him. "It's not like I've been here long."

"It won't happen again, miss."

"Lia?" Dimitri says.

"Hey, I'm here."

"Is something wrong?" he asks sharply.

"I just… I wanted to speak with you," I reply, chickening out.

"This is a secure line," he replies. "Say anything you need to."

"It's just…" Again, it's chicken time. "What are you up to?"

I can hear the smirk in his voice. "I've just had a meeting with the board. I've still got a week or two before people start expecting me to get over my father's death." His tone is a bitter irony. I know full well he doesn't have to get over anything. "Now, Mikhail and I are going to meet with Nikolai."

I gasp. "What? After last night?"

"Ah, but Lia, remember…"

The cogs in my head turn. "Nikolai doesn't know you caught his guy. As far as he knows, you think somebody's out to get you because of the attack, but you don't know it's him."

"Exactly," he says, sounding proud, which makes my smile feel like it glows.

"Won't he get suspicious when his…" It sounds so surreal to say stuff like this. "… his undercover agent stops answering his calls?"

"Maybe. That's his problem. I'm curious to see how he plays this. What are you doing?"

"Painting… and speaking with Mila."

"Ah, Mila," Dimitri says, his tone making it clear he sees her as a problem and not much else.

"Yeah…"

"You know I don't want her. I only want you."

Warm shivers dance over me, teasing and captivating me. "It's not about that. It's about her brother."

"I'm not happy about any of this," Dimitri says, his voice dark. "But let's say I called up ten of my best soldiers to kidnap the kid. What then? Do you think Nikolai will accept that? Let's say he sends everything he has. Will we win? Maybe. I want to think so, but when bullets start flying, nothing is certain." His voice gets angrier. I know part of it is wishing he could do more. "If we lose, Vegas is fucked."

"Would it be worse than it already is?"

His grim laugh tells me everything I need to know, but he hammers the point home anyway. "It would be ten times worse. There are scumbags in this city who only stay on their best behavior because of us. Nikolai would let them loose."

"Maybe there's a way to do both," I say, "but…"

"Go on," he says. "A Bratva queen should speak her mind."

"Ha, ha, ha," I reply, twirling the phone's cord around my finger. I was born too late to play with a phone cord like this during any other phone call. "That's not funny. I'm not a queen."

"Yes, you are."

I roll my eyes, but I'm smiling like a fool. "I guess we'll agree to disagree."

"I'm interested to hear your opinion," he says.

"Well, it's just evil both ways. Either Nikolai continues to bully his son, or you go against him, start a war, and more people get hurt."

"That's the life," Dimitri says. "That's why it's easier to be a cruel, sadistic person. It makes choices far easier."

"But you're not like the other Bratva. No tattoos… no cruelty."

"I can be cruel when necessary," he says fiercely.

"To the right people—the people who deserve it."

"And for the right reasons. Sure. That's how I sleep at night."

"I think you slept quite well, actually," I retort.

I can hear the smirk in his voice, that confident cut to his firm jawline. "Until you woke me up…"

"What? You woke me up." After a pause, guilt hits me. We shouldn't be joking around and making light right now. "Mila is going nuts. I know neither of us really knows each other or her…" Another pause as I think about how odd that statement is. It's not like Dimitri and I have been speaking for a long time. "But she doesn't deserve this. Her brother doesn't deserve it."

"Most people don't deserve the terrible things that happen to them," Dimitri says. "All I can do is try to limit the damage."

"What if you're wrong? What if you can do more?" I raise my voice, not even meaning to. I have this impulse to help Dimitri be the best he can possibly be. "What if you can beat Nikolai?"

"A war?—"

"It doesn't have to be a war. It can be a trap. Let him see us together. Let him?—"

"Enough," he says fiercely. "You just admitted it could make things worse. Now you want to put yourself at risk."

"If I'm going to be a part of this life, I want to make a positive change."

"You are a part of this life," he says, a warm note of disbelief in his voice, which sends shivers dancing over my body. "I never thought somebody could change me so much so quickly, but that doesn't mean you understand it."

He hangs up. I pull my hand back, ready to slam the phone into the receiver. Considering it probably costs more than most houses, that's not a good idea. I storm out of the room and back to the library.

Mila leaps to her feet when she sees me. "Whoa! What's up? What happened?"

"I just…" Suddenly, the library feels like it's closing in around me. "Look at all this!" I kick up a bunch of newspapers, then go to the easel and throw it to the floor. "Look at me. I should be able to handle myself, and now I have to beg to make something happen. I'm supposed to…"

I sit down, shuddering, wondering if I'm about to have a panic attack. I've only had a few in my life, but it's like the old me has just collapsed into the new me. Not that long ago, I was stubbornly alone, listening to podcasts to help me become even more independently capable. Now, it's like I want to be in this cage.

"The world's not fair," I say, getting my breathing under control. Mila watches me cautiously. "We should be able to help your brother. We should be able to do some good."

"Maybe we can," Mila replies. "Maybe we'll have our chance."

We sit in silence for a while. From where I pushed the easel, the paper has folded back, revealing the piece underneath it, the sketch of the woman with her baby. Suddenly, it seems offensive and ugly, or maybe I'm trying to make it seem that way.

"I always said I was going to be alone," I mutter. "To myself, because I didn't speak to anybody else. I always promised myself that."

"Why would you want to be alone?"

"Before, I thought it was easier that way."

"And now?"

I fold my arms, staring at the sketch, like a piece of future reality trying to bleed through as a graphite hint. "I don't know. It's hard to think when everything happens so fast. It feels like a fever dream."

"Yeah," Mila says. "Tell me about it."

She turns to the window, staring at the other house, and I know what she's thinking about. I won't press her on it. If I'm wrong, I don't want to complicate things in the Bratva world, but I know that look. It's the same one I feel reshaping my features every time I think about Dimitri.

"This is nice," Mila says after a pause, picking up the easel and folding over the rest of the paper, fully revealing the sketch. "Who is it?"

"Oh, just… how I imagine my mom looked." I'm choking myself up without even meaning to. "Before…"

Mila looks at me and frowns. "You haven't had it easy, have you?"

"Neither of us has."

At least we're safe now.

Protected. Caged. Trapped.