I smiled to myself because Claudia was so good at heart. She might be a spitfire and have the stereotypical temperament of a feisty Italian woman, but she had the kindest heart of anybody I knew.
“So of course I started talking to her, asking her if everything was okay. She told me how she had some personal things going on, family problems. And the rest is history. We just kind of hit it off.”
I thought back to that night, what I had seen between her and Edoardo, how the “family problems” had nothing to do with why she was upset that night. But of course I didn’t say that.
“What have you two been doing?” I kept my voice conversational, but red flags were rising up in me, one after the other, my anxiety for Claudia increasing.
Claudia didn’t answer for a moment as I heard her brushing her teeth. The faucet turned on, she spit, the sound of her rinsing, and then she finally answered.
“Nothing really. She comes here and we just hang out in the library, or watch movies and eat junk food.”
“Sounds fun, like she’s keeping you busy.” I started worrying my bottom lip as I continued to stare out the window. “Does she talk about anything? Me?”
“You?” Confusion in her voice. “Why would we talk about you?”
“It just seems… weird she’s hanging around suddenly, no?”
Claudia didn’t answer right away, maybe thinking about it, or maybe angry with me. I didn’t want to make things awkward, or plant seeds of distrust in her mind, but surely she had to see how strange it was Francesca, three years older than her, all of the sudden showed an interest in hanging out. Not to mention this was no coincidence, not after what I’d seen her and Eduardo do, not after Nikolai had killed Francesca’s lover.
“Maybe, but right now I’m not going to complain about having someone hang out with me.” There was a sour tone in her voice and I knew this subject was done. I wouldn’t push it, even tried to tell myself maybe I was overreacting.
“You’re right,” I finally said and heard her exhale. “Tell me about school. Any cute boys?” She giggled and was glad she couldn’t be easily swayed by the conversation.
For the next five minutes we talked about her school and how the boys were cute but not smart enough for her.
I talked about mundane things that I thought would keep her mind off the uncomfortable topic of our father and Francesca.
I was laughing at something she said when I heard the elevator stop at the floor, then the sound of heavy footsteps in the anteroom. A second later the front door opened and Nikolai stepped inside.
I gasped at the sight in front of me.
“Amara? What’s wrong?” There was concern instantly laced in Claudia’s voice.
I smoothed my hand down my sweater, tried to compose myself, and in a steady, even tone I said, “nothing. Just dropped my coffee and it spilled everywhere.” The lie came easily because the truth was something I wouldn’t ever reveal to my sister. “Listen, let me call you back so I can clean this up.”
I disconnected the call and let the cell drop to the couch cushion.
And then I stared at Nikolai. He hadn’t moved from his spot by the front door, and it wasn’t the dark look in his eyes that horrified me. It was the fact blood was splattered on the collar of his white button down shit and at the base of his throat.
I found myself taking a step toward him, and another, and another until I was only a foot from where he stood. I only took a moment to stare into his blue eyes before I lowered my gaze down his face and neck and stopped at where the splatter of blood was.
“What happened?” My voice was raised and loud in the sudden deafening silence.
“I had unfinished business to take care of.” His response was to the point, cut and dry. Hard and sharp.
He unbuttoned his jacket, shrugged it off his broad shoulders, and tossed it over the back of the kitchen counter chair. And then he turned and walked over to the bar, pouring himself a drink.
I kept the comment to myself that it was barely noon, because the more I let his words sink in, the more I let the sight of that blood on his neck and collar filter through my consciousness, it was that I realized the truth.
His “unfinished business” was him taking out the man from the club. I didn’t know how I came to the realization so quickly, or how it also solidified in me.
But as if he read my thoughts he looked over his shoulder, lifted his whiskey glass to his mouth, and took a long drink as if silently agreeing that I was correct.
“You can’t go around killing people.” I had no idea why I said those words. They were the worst possible thing to say at this moment.
He didn’t respond right away, just finished off his glass and poured himself another before turning and facing me. Then he took a step closer, and another one until we were only a few feet apart.
“Sweetheart, don’t you know who you married?” He brought his glass to his mouth and took a long swallow, watching me over the rim. When he pulled the glass away he said, “I’m Nikolai fucking Petrov. I can and will do whatever the hell I want, and that includes taking lives of anyone who fucks with you.”