I shook my head. "You are wrong, Yakov. That is your ego talking. I have more support in this city, in our organization than you ever had. The men who work for us are brothers to me, and they will be right by my side whenever I ask it of them. You only have followers who are too afraid to cross you. But given a way out, I know that they will take it."
He let out a short, stunted laugh. "Believe that if you want to, Valentin."
I gritted my teeth. The man's stubbornness only matched my own. Time was running out on this stalemate and sooner or later something was going to have to give.
Yakov leaned back in his seat, eyes on me in a slow sweep of assessment. "This weekend, both of you should come to my dacha. I will be expecting you. Perhaps what you see there will change your mind."
I knew the kind of weekend parties Yakov hosted. If he thought he could impress me, he had another thing coming. The last thing I wanted was to traipse into the countryside with Mia, away from any security of my own. My territory was Moscow, and I knew the stupidity of stepping outside of my own fortress.
"I don't think so, Yakov."
The man set his jaw. "Don't make the mistake of insulting me any more than you already have, Valentin." He dabbed at his mouth with a paper napkin, and pushed the chair back from the table as he stood.
"I will be expecting you. Do not disappoint me."
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Valentin
Arkadi pulled the car into a sweeping driveway and Mia sat up a little straighter, her eyes keen to take in the surroundings. As soon as I'd told her about Timoshenko's invitation, she'd been more than eager to come and she'd rushed to rearrange her schedule.
"I'm owed some time off, and maybe this is just the break I need. It's like you and Eva said, I need to figure out what I want out of being here. There's a big audition on Monday, and I could really ace it if I had the weekend off to recover."
That was a plan I couldn't argue with. Not a single part of me wanted to wipe the hopeful smile from her face. So here we were.
All I wanted was for Mia to spread her wings and take that leap of faith, because I knew that she would find success even though she didn't trust in herself that much. If a weekend away was what it would take, then there was no reason not to go.
Even as misguided as I thought this trip was, it would have to do. I knew the message that refusing would send. I didn't think Yakov would be foolish enough to try anything hostile with an audience, and if we were the only guests, I had enough weaponry packed to defend the pair of us, whatever that took.
We were outside Moscow, and it had taken a little over an hour to reach Timoshenko's weekend house. Whatever he called it, I refused to call it his dacha, because it was nothing like the little cottages and huts that everybody else meant when they used that word.
Timoshenko's weekend house was modernist and painted white, a boxy square design raised up on stilts from the landscape and continuous strips of picture windows making sure that each room had an uninterrupted view of the river or the valley it was set in.
It wouldn't have been out of place in the California Hills, or on the Mediterranean coast somewhere where everything was gleaming blue sky and sea. Here in the Russian countryside it was more of a statement than anything else, just like the large indoor-outdoor pool that he kept heated in the winter so that you could swim whilst counting the icicles hanging from the roofline.
I hadn't wanted to come, but I knew well enough that to decline an invitation to one of his weekend gatherings at this point in time would be far too much of a snub. Everything between us had become a series of political moves, and this was just the same. He was trying to show Mia how much more of a big deal he was than me, and good luck to him.
His was not the lifestyle that I craved and from what I knew of her, it wasn't what Mia wanted either. She was no gold digger looking for a lavish life of luxury. She had her own goals in life, and if anything I was conscious of trying to show her that I would find a way to make sure she never had to give that up to be with me.
This weekend house and these weekend parties were the opposite of that. Timoshenko loved to flaunt everything that the Bratva lifestyle could offer. We weren't the only guests and I knew this was one of the ways that he rewarded those that were loyal to us but outside our brotherhood. This was something that I was going to have to find my own way to manage, but I never wanted it to be my life.
Mia's eyes widened as the car pulled up and I stepped around the car to offer her my arm while Arkadi unloaded the bags. This weekend we were without Viktor, as a sign of trust, and I hoped that it had not been the wrong decision to make.
There was an unwritten rule that a man's house was sacrosanct, especially while he was showing others hospitality and it would have been incredibly bad form for either of us to start anything. I had to trust that Timoshenko had no desire to have blood on his land, and he had to trust that I wouldn't disrespect his hospitality so thoroughly by making my move here.
All the same, I wasn't entirely in the mood to play nice.
"This place is unreal," Mia whispered to me as we walked up the shallow steps to the house and I couldn't help but agree with her.
One of Timoshenko's servants opened the door to us and showed us through to the terrace where the drinks were already flowing and other guests were splashing about in the pool.
"Ah, Valentin! Mia! So glad that you could join us!" Timoshenko drifted over, all smiles, pulling Mia into a double kiss to her cheeks, followed by a cooler handshake and pat to the shoulder for me. His smile stayed as thin as mine when he looked at me and I knew that Mia was likely the only reason he'd invited us here. He must have wanted to impress her for some reason. I still couldn't make full sense of it.
But the rules of engagement required me to be courteous in my boss's home, even though he wasn't going to be my boss for very much longer.
"Thank you for the invitation. It was… unexpected."
Mia elbowed my side and my smile froze in place, refusing to allow it to drift towards suspicion.
"I didn't realize there would be so many other people here," Mia put in, neatly sweeping over my rudeness and Timoshenko hand waved it all off.
"Just a few close friends and their families. We have the room, so why not fill it? I hate to be alone, and young people bring me joy."
As he said it, a pair of boys who couldn’t have been older than eight bombed into the pool, splashing the adults at the edge with a tide of water to a great shout of protest mingled with laughter. Cocktails sloshed and I suspected expensive shoes were ruined, but no one seemed to really care.
One of Timoshenko's people was manning a barbecue and there was a table laid out with a large array of other foods so that people could help themselves. A pair of younger girls were already taking advantage, clearly intent on sampling all the cakes on offer.
It wasn't quite the party that I had expected.
"Come, you must let me introduce you." Timoshenko took Mia's arm and I gritted my teeth as he led her forward towards the group, away from me, leaving me to follow along behind. I was losing patience with all of this.
"Everybody, this is Mia Peterson. Moscow's newest ballerina. I'm sure you will all make her feel at home, just as dear Valentin has done."
Again he patted my shoulder and I felt myself tense, entirely unsure of his motives.
The two little girls stared at Mia with wide eyes, cakes forgotten as they hurried over to tug at her skirt. "Are you really a ballerina?"
Mia crouched down in front of them, her smile almost as broad as the ones they were wearing. "I am. Do you want to be dancers too?"
The pair of them nodded. To me and to them, there could have been no one else in existence. She was the most important person in the vicinity, and I couldn't believe the amount of sheer feeling she induced in me just watching her interact with those little girls.
"Shall I show you how to do a perfect pirouette?"
The girls squealed with delight a
nd I couldn't stop myself from laughing. Of course Mia would be a natural with them, and of course they would see her as the princess that she was. Timoshenko stepped in close again.
"You could use the drawing room," he offered, indicating the room just along from where we had stepped out, with large bi-fold doors drawn back to open the whole side of the building to the outside.. "The floor in there is perfect for turns."
Mia smiled at me and I nodded. "We'll be right back."
"Of course. I will get you a drink." Perhaps this wasn't the party that I had expected, and I wasn't going to grudge Mia the chance to be adored. At least not by a pair of little girls.
"They are my goddaughters," Timoshenko told me as he handed me a glass of champagne. I looked at him side on, watching his focus on Mia and trying to understand the sudden softness in his eyes.
Was he thinking about my mother and everything she'd been to him? Was that why he seemed so drawn to Mia? He needed to realize he was a lecherous old man and Mia was already mine.
"They are very sweet. And Mia is very patient."
He looked at me. "She is. And perhaps too good for you."
I barely managed to curb my growl. "That's none of your business."
"Perhaps not. But I would hate to see such an innocent get hurt. I'm sure we both would."
My fist closed so tight around the base of my glass that I snapped the stem. Ordinarily I wouldn't tolerate these kinds of threats, but here my hands were tied. Good for Yakov, otherwise I would have stabbed him with the shattered stem.
"Oh - what has happened to your glass? You must get another." Timoshenko waved one of his people in my direction as he stepped away, swanning off across the terrace to attend to his other guests.
The sooner this weekend was over the better. My patience with Timoshenko was reaching an end. It had been non-existent for weeks, and all I wanted now was to draw this matter to a close, but instead I was stuck playing happy families in his home.
The man was clever enough to know how to draw it all out as long as possible, I'd give him that. But as soon as I got back to Moscow, the wheels would be set in motion. I'd run my plans past Maxim, our longest serving hitman, and get his professional opinion on the best way to attack. Between him and Viktor, I knew I had all the advice at my disposal to end this once and for all.
With Mia in the picture, I couldn't afford to let these veiled threats linger on. In bringing her close to me, I was painting a target on her back and I would have to be careful to make sure she was under my protection at all times.
Timoshenko had lost his wife and daughters years ago when a rival had been pushed to take revenge for no reason other than to hurt him. He seemed to think that was the way of the world, and maybe it had been in his day, but things had changed. This was a modern era and I wasn't going to allow the same thing to happen. Not in a million years.
Mia would be mine, and I would keep her safe. We would live together and have a family - children of our own to dote on - and I would protect them all and give them only the best life could offer, because that was why I had worked as hard as I had to get to where I was.
Timoshenko's time was up. It had to be, because I refused to play these games any longer.
Mia
I hadn't known what to expect from the invitation to Timoshenko's place, especially given how reluctant Valentin was for us to go. But once we got here and I saw the kids running about splashing in the pool and the little girls desperate to be dancers, I felt my shoulders relax.
I'd wanted a weekend away to clear my head, to prepare for the audition on the Monday, and I really didn't care where that was, just as long as Valentin was with me.
The way he talked, I'd been expecting to have to parade around on Valentin's arm like some accessory while the men all talked business and I pretended not to hear. Not that I would have wanted to know any of the details, because the Bratva side of things was something I would rather only vaguely be aware of.
But it wasn't like that at all. If only Valentin would relax a little, I was sure he would feel better about it all. He kept telling me, over and over again, that Timoshenko was a lot more than just a little old man, but I was struggling to see it. He seemed hospitable and kind, and in some ways very similar to Valentin himself.
But every time I looked up from teaching Ekaterina and Petra how to perfect their twirls, Valentin was still watching me from across the terrace, standing out on his own rather than chatting to anyone in the group as though he thought if he took his eyes off me for a second, something terrible would happen.
I didn't altogether blame him for not mingling in the crowd. In running off with the kids I'd taken the easy option and I knew it. The last thing I wanted was to have to try to sound intelligent or impressive to a room full of strangers, but Valentin didn't have that problem. He was suave and sophisticated and I was betting he could talk to anyone about anything with a lot more certainty than I ever could. Even if these people were all very well off Russians who were mostly closer to Timoshenko's age than Valentin's.
I was probably the youngest woman here who wasn't someone's child and I was very aware of that. But after the introduction as an up and coming ballet dancer, maybe that didn't matter.
In only a few minutes the girls and I had a little audience crowded around the doors to the terrace, watching us all. The girls loved it, and I taught them a few more moves that gained a round of applause.
Valentin, I knew would rather have been anywhere else. All of this was work for him, and what he'd wanted was an excuse for us to be alone together for a whole weekend. Not this. But neither of us had a choice now that we were here, and I planned to make the best of it.
At some point, someone suggested that we put some music on, and that I show them all how it was really meant to be done. I tried to protest, but Timoshenko wouldn't have it, and before I knew it, I was dancing the Sugar Plum Fairy without a care than I was barefoot, smiling with each turn and jump.
When I finished, the applause was even louder and the little girls looked at me like I was their hero.
Timoshenko came to the front of the crowd with a middle aged woman in a smart suit. "Mia, this is Yolanda Bonova. She's putting together a new cast for a very special ballet to start very soon. She was very taken with your little show. The two of you should talk."
I felt my jaw hinge open before I could regain enough composure to snap it closed. I'd told Valentin off for even mentioning using his influence to set me up with any opportunities, but this introduction was far too good to turn down.
"Hello," I heard myself splutter, smile growing as I extended a handshake to Yolanda. "It's really good to meet you."
"Likewise. I think that you have exactly the kind of energy I am looking for. Would you be open to trying out with us?"
"Oh, wow. Definitely. Yes, please."
Over Timoshenko's shoulder I saw Valentin lurking a few paces back and he folded his broad arms across his chest. I smiled to him and he nodded, and I knew that whatever happened, he had my back.
Swept up in conversations about ballet and more demonstrations while Timoshenko's staff kept me topped up with all kinds of drinks and all the food I could have asked for, I barely got any time with Valentin until the lights came on around the house when darkness drew in.
He slumped down in the garden bench next to me and slung his arm across my shoulders.
"Are you having fun?"
"I am. Are you?"
Valentin tilted his head. "I will always love watching you have a good time."
I let out a sigh and rested my head against his shoulder. "I think he really cares about you, you know?"
"Mia, let it drop. It is too complicated to be that simple now."
I pursed my lips, still thinking that he was wrong. If Timoshenko didn't care, why would he bother to set up meetings like that, or to give me the opportunity to show the people I needed to show exactly what I was capable of? If that was the power that came with being the head
of the Bratva, I could easily see Valentin as the perfect fit to take over the role. And Timoshenko must have wanted that too, deep down.
"Do you know all these people?"
"Not really. Some of them. Mostly they are Timoshenko's friends. I have my own circle."
"And none of them are here?"
"That's right. He wouldn't be so foolish as to let them in so close when we are practically at war."
I frowned. "Can't you just come to some kind of arrangement?"
"Mia, my love, I have tried. So many times. He has some very old fashioned ideas, and as far as he is concerned there is only one way that this can play out."
I wet my lips, watching his face and seeing how he avoided my eyes even in the darkness. "And what's that?"
"Don't ask me that. You don't want to know."
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Mia
Despite knowing Valentin would never have wanted me to, I agreed to meet Timoshenko in the week after we got back from his dacha. There was something about the old man that made me want to hear him out and listen to him, no matter what Valentin said about him.
He came to the studio the day after my audition at the Bolshoi, which had gone so perfectly I still felt like I was dreaming. I invited him there between rehearsals, and it felt like some great big secret.
He brought a little box of cakes, and I pulled down a couple of chairs from the pile in the corner of the empty studio where Valentin and I trained every morning. It was the only place that I could think to meet. It was more private there than in the theater or some cafe, and without the audience that bringing him back to my apartment would come with, or the threat of not knowing where he was taking me if I agreed to go somewhere with him. I didn't even think about asking him to come to Valentin's. That would have felt far too much like going behind his back, and that wasn't what I was doing. Not really.
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