“She had a journal from when she was twenty-one,” Nadia said.
“What did it say?” Rashel asked, her eyes more protuberant than ever.
“I haven’t read it all yet,” Nadia admitted. “It’s in Cyrillic, which I can’t understand very well.”
“I could translate it for you,” Rashel said. She was pulling at a loose thread on the hem of her drooping cardigan. It was unravelling the whole edge, but Rashel didn’t seem to notice.
“That’s alright,” Nadia said. “I’m slow at reading it, but I’m learning.”
Rashel pressed her thin lips together, so tight that her mouth became a flat line.
“Fine,” she said. “Are you wanting dinner?”
“No thank you,” Nadia said guiltily. “I’m meeting Maxim.”
She knew she ought to be eating with her aunt and grandfather at least some of the time, but the prospect of bringing a tray into Stanislav’s room as Rashel did, eating amongst the beeping equipment and the smells of medicine and harsh cleaning agents, and the especially next to the blank, staring figure of her grandfather, was not at all appealing.
“That’s fine,” Rashel said again. “It’s not like Papa will know.”
Nadia returned to her room to work a little more on the diary and get dressed for her dinner with Maxim.
She didn’t quite have time to finish the third entry before she had to leave. She almost left the journal open on the small desk, with the sheets of her own writing lying next to it.
But at the last moment, as she saw the lights of the taxi pulling into the drive, she scooped up the papers and put them inside the journal, marking her place, and then she tucked the whole bundle inside her purse.
* * *
14
Nikolai
Everything you do seduces me. All you need to do is breathe and I would do anything for you.
Ashley March
As dinner time drew near, Nikolai changed his clothes. He put on a crisp white dress shirt, his navy Brioni suit, and his silver cuff links with the Markov wolf’s head. He had showered and shaved again, so his smooth, tan skin clearly displayed the outlines of his sharp cheekbones, his square jaw, and his muscular neck with the dark ink of his many tattoos just visible above the collar of his suit.
He put on his most expensive cologne and his favorite watch, the A. Lange and Sohne with the moon phase complication, in silver and black. He had a sense now from Nadia that she wouldn’t be as easy to seduce as most of the mafia princesses. She was intelligent and sharply observant. If he came on too strong, he’d make her suspicious.
And despite her association with that buffoon Maxim Oleksei, he got the impression that she wasn’t going to be wooed by overt shows of wealth and influence. Her relationship with Maxim was a youthful mistake—she needed a real man now, someone refined, cultured.
Walking down to the mansion’s underground garage, he surveyed the dozen expensive sports cars in their berths. When he’d driven her home before, he’d selected the flashy Zenvo ST1, a high-performance Dutch sportscar that was all raw power and sleek lines. But now he thought that he ought to have picked something more subtle. He remembered how Nadia had been so enthralled by her mother’s diary—she liked history. He should take something vintage.
Climbing into the driver’s seat of the ‘66 Alfa Romeo, the keys already in the ignition, Nikolai revved the engine. It had a rich, mellow sound. Less horsepower, but classic engineering. That was how he would win over Nadia—not with force, but with panache.
His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he checked Leonid’s update.
Maxim down 28K on the trotters.
The Orlov Trotter was the famous Russian breed reared and trained by the owners of the Hippodrome. Though not the fastest horse, their grace and tenacity made for quite an addictive race when pitted against a dozen of their own kind. But the races often came down to a fraction of a second—making it difficult to pick the winner, and even more difficult to walk away when you only just missed your bet and were certain the next one would finish in your favor. An expensive mistake that Maxim Oleksei was learning.
Nikolai texted Dima, who had been waiting outside Nadia’s grandfather’s house.
Where is she?Nikolai asked.
Driving now,Dima said.Looks like she’s headed to the White Rabbit.
Nikolai pulled out of the underground garage, heading for the restaurant in Smolenskaya. It was a popular spot for couples, thanks to the romantic view out the massive glass dome atop the sixteenth floor of the Smolenkiy Passage.
