Chapter 64

ATTN: Pasha Chekhov, RE: Contract renewal URGENT URGENT URGENT

I don’t bother opening the email. All I have to see is who the sender is before I trash it like all the rest.

Daphne was not exaggerating: when Brittany Cleary homes in on a target, she does not let up.

It’s been days since I fired her, her father, and the entire Cleary consultancy. That same night, my inbox pinged with an email from Herbert begging me to reconsider, to schedule a private meeting with him, to disregard what happened.

I informed him that he’s been disregarding his daughter’s behavior for years. I will not be making that same mistake.

Brittany doesn’t warrant a response. I had all her numbers blocked; the only reason why I haven’t blocked her email address is because I’m compiling them for a harassment lawsuit.

When I’m done, she won’t be able to afford a computer to email me from.

I make a note in my calendar to schedule a meeting with the company’s law firm. With Paris gone, I’m managing my own schedule until we find an appropriate replacement, which I’ve left up to Mak.

The lack of assistant is why I have zero warning when the office door opens and the very last person I want to see walks in.

“Arlo. What brings you here?”

Arlo keeps his hands in his coat pockets. “Oh, just checking in. I heard another shipment arrived last night. Wanted to make sure everything processed smoothly.”

“You know you’re free to check in on the shipments yourself. At any time.”

“I had… prior engagements.” His smile ticks up another notch. “It’s been good to see Asya again after all this time.”

I remind myself that it would be a very bad idea to throw him out of the nearest window. The paperwork isn’t worth it, and I have a discomforting feeling that Mama would give me hell for it.

“I thought you two caught up the other day.”

“We did. There is so much to discuss, and I’m taking her away from you plenty as it is.”

I don’t like that he’s agreeing with my disgruntled thoughts. I don’t like how easy his demeanor is, or how happy my mother has been since they’ve been spending time together.

Too much time.

Way too much time.

I gesture for him to take a seat in one of the chairs. He accepts, tucking his coat beneath him as he does. “So you two have known each other for a while?”

“For a lifetime.” His face grows serious. “Since childhood.”

“I thought that was my father.”

Arlo chuckles. “I am allowed to know more than one person at a time, Pasha.”

“So why now? Why haven’t we heard of you before?”

“That is a conversation between you and your mother, I think.”

“You and I can have the conversation right now.”

He narrows his eyes at me, but that stupid smile remains exactly where it is. “What secrets Asya keeps from her children, she does for good reason. If you really want to know, then give her the respect and dignity of telling you herself.”

“Funny.” I toy with my pen as I tamp down the urge to stab him. “I didn’t know we asked for a new father.”

He’s quiet for a while after that. “I’ll give you one of my secrets, if you give me one of yours,” he finally says.

I lean back in my chair, squinting at him. What is his game? “Go on.”

“This Daphne woman. Do you love her?”

Of all the questions he could have asked, he goes for the one that has nothing to do with him. “I don’t see how that’s any of your concern.”

“A secret for a secret. Pakhan to pakhan—well, retired, anyway—I know how important it is to keep your true feelings hidden from your own men. Or… even from her.”

He’s right. He’s right and he fucking knows it. I don’t want to play his game, but I also want to know what the hell his so-called secret is. “More than anything,” I concede at last. “I love Daphne more than anything.”

“If it came down to it, between her or the Bratva, which would you choose?”

“You said one secret. That’s two.”

“Answer the question.”

“No.” I shove my chair back and stand. “Get out of my office.”

He holds a hand up to stop me in my tracks. “Hold on, Pasha. You misunderstand.”

“You’re prying into my business⁠—”

“I chose the Bratva,” he interjects.

I pause. Mainly because something in his voice cracks, and that’s very unusual for a man as powerful as him.

“I chose the Bratva. Men like you and me, we always choose the Bratva.” Arlo rises, fixes his coat, and takes a step closer. “I’m telling you now, Pasha, before you ever have to make that decision: never choose the Bratva.”

This crazy bastard is out of his mind. “The hell are you talking about?”

He sighs, then starts tugging on his leather driving gloves. “I thought I made the right choice. I was young, I was stupid—and I lost everything. Now, I’m here, and I’m not leaving. Even if it’s too late to fix things.”

With one final, cryptic nod, Arlo Fedorov turns on his heels and slips out of my office.

“Pasha! What a pleasant surprise!” Mama beams at me and holds the door open wider. “Come on in!”

“I won’t be long,” I warn her.

“You will.” She takes my jacket from me, hangs it up, and pats my arm. “I know why you’re here. Arlo called me.”

Fucking Arlo.

“You two seem close,” I remark.

Mama smiles wistfully and leads me to her living room. “Come. I’ve made us some tea.”

When prisoners evade my questions, it’s because they know the answer will get them killed. When my own mother evades my questions, it’s because she knows that I’m going to hate what she has to say.

“Did he tell you how we know each other?”

I shake my head. “He said that’s for you to share.”

“Mm. He’s a good man. Always has been. Just like his father.” She settles into a chair next to mine and pours the tea. “I was born into his household, in a way. My father was one of Pakhan Fedorov’s vors. We lived in a house on his estate just outside Omsk, and my mother helped with the gardening.”

I accept the cup and saucer from her, but I don’t interrupt. Something about this feels too important to interrupt with questions.

For now.

“Arlo and I grew close. Oh, we hated each other the way little boys and girls do, but it was how we played. He’d pull my hair and I’d chase him around the grounds, all that silly stuff. But by the time we hit puberty, things changed. We wanted to spend more time together.” Mama laughs before I can even register my disapproval. “It’s true! I started noticing he wasn’t as gross. He started complimenting my hair. Little things, of course, but you know… Our teen years, we were inseparable. And… behind the garden shed… a lot…”

“For fuck’s sake, Mama.”

“Just you wait until my granddaughter becomes that age,” she scolds. “You better hope none of your vors have boys her age hanging around.”

I don’t like the thought of my sweet, innocent little baby girl kissing anyone. Or growing up. Ever.

“Anyway—we made plans to marry. My father was elated, and his father wholeheartedly approved of me, so it was an easy decision.” She takes another sip. Her face darkens. “Or so we thought.”

I don’t know why a pit forms in my stomach. “What happened?”

Mama sets her cup down and takes a moment to think about it. Her eyes begin to glisten. I immediately regret the question.

“Your father happened.” She clears her throat and shakes her head. “Your father, Kostya… He was one of Arlo’s best friends. Their fathers were allies, they attended the same school together, and in their own way, they were inseparable. Until…”

The pieces are beginning to fall into place. “Until Kostya wanted what he didn’t have.”

“More like he demanded it,” she confirms. “Not once did he ever show an interest in me, not until Arlo declared his plans to marry me. Next thing either of us knew, Pakhan Chekhov made both our fathers an offer they couldn’t refuse.”

Knowing Kostya, I’d say it was more likely a threat they couldn’t ignore.

“He chose the Bratva.” I’ve lost my taste for the tea, so I set it aside. “Arlo. That’s what he meant by choosing the Bratva.”

“It was me, or his family’s legacy. I wasn’t worth the sacrifice.” She smiles at me. The sadness in her eyes is almost too much. It reminds me too much of the darker days, back when Kostya was still alive. When she was still his punching bag. “We barely had time to say goodbye. I think Kostya wanted to make sure we wouldn’t run away, but… I don’t know. All I did know was that one moment, I was begging Arlo to hide me, and the next, I was Kostya’s wife. Found out I was pregnant with you a month later. Kostya was so proud, and I was just… I went with it. Better that way.”

“Did you ever try finding Arlo? Or did he ever come for you?”

I think I already know the answer. For the leader of one Bratva to steal the wife of another’s would be an act of war.

“Kostya and I came to America shortly before you were born, so it wasn’t easy to look Arlo up. A few years later, he showed up to discuss business and maintain the family alliance, but by then, he was also married. She was very lovely.” Mama wipes her unshed tears away. “I think the responsibilities of becoming a father kept him back in Russia. After a while, he stopped coming here and sent representatives instead. It’s been that way ever since.”

Until now, for whatever reason.

I know Arlo said he abdicated to his son for the sake of retirement, but I have this unshakeable gut feeling that there’s more to it than that.

I also have a gut feeling that Arlo is going to be around… a lot.

“Did you love him?” I blurt before I can second-guess myself.

She smiles. “More than anything.”

The words echo what I told Arlo in the office. I brood in silence for a moment, both of us just breathing and quiet.

Then my mother looks up at me again. “And you know what? I never stopped.” She clasps my hand between two of hers. “Love like ours doesn’t wither and die in the dark. If anything, it grows even more until the sunlight returns.”

“Explains why you’re glowing.”

Mama blushes once more before letting go of me.

Sighing, I lean over and kiss the top of her head. “I love you, Mama. I want you to be happy. We all do. I also want you to be careful. We all do.”

Mama pats my cheek. “I’m in perfectly good hands, malysh. Exceptionally good hands.”

I roll my eyes. “Just make sure he knows that the second he hurts you, I’m ripping his spine through his throat.”

She laughs. “Oh, I’m sure he knows. You two are birds of a feather, after all.”