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“River Bently,” he tells her.
Meredith looks into her whiskey as she swirls it with a cigarette hanging from her fingers. “Born and raised in Los Angeles, mother is a widow, and you run one of the largest gun selling businesses worldwide. Am I missing anything?”
Oh, I forgot to mention her photographic memory.
“Yes, but how did you…” River says, tensing his shoulders.
“Meredith has a photographic memory, and she keeps tabs on anyone of importance who steps into town,” I inform him.
“Meredith…” River says, brows pinched, and it’s rather nice and unusual watching him only figure out something now. “I know that name.”
Because if he looked into Alek’s and my foster papers, he would’ve seen a Miranda Petrov signed on the dotted line. What’s not on the records is the handsome price she paid to ensure we were handed to her.
“I’m sure you do, kid.” She nods.
River looks at me then.
“You were raised by Meredith Fork,” he says, eyeing me. “I get it. I get why you are who you are.” He looks back at Meredith, a new revelation sparking in his eyes. “You were known for your high-quality, no-nonsense bullshit. Cutthroat and one of the first and only women to run drugs and ammo. I heard rumor of you when I first started, but that your business was taken over by the Ivanov siblings.”
“Taken over or handed down, depending on what intel you choose to believe. If someone like me was taken down by the siblings, then they were someone not to be trifled with from the very start,” she says to him. “I gave them the perfect head start.”
She pins me with a stare. “It’s not easy being a woman in this line of business. You have to be more ruthless than any man. You’ll be wise to remember that, girl.”
“Meredith has retired,” I inform him, ignoring her not-so-subtle dig.
I’m reconsidering whether I should’ve brought River here at all now. Meredith has had lovers. Men at her beck and call. But having a man in your life permanently was a weakness to her.
I don’t know why she would look at River in any other way.
“Big shoes to fill,” River says in salute as he takes a sip of the whiskey.
“It would appear this generation gets distracted easily,” the old bitch tosses out, specifically for me.
“I’m pretty sure there’s been no complaints about the retirement fund you sit on and the monthly income you receive to give you all the time in the world to bake and burn fucking muffins,” I say back.
“I’m surprised, Anya, how quickly you’ve replaced Alek,” she purrs, flicking the ash off her cigarette. “What’s it been… three, four months since Alek disappeared? You’ve never learned how to be alone, have you?”
“I’ve only ever known how to be alone,” I snap. And her cold, calculated gaze is fixated on me. The rest of the sentence goes unsaid. I’ve only ever known how to be alone because of you.
She offers a sharp, antagonizing smile. “Yes, so I passed my business down to these two. Who have been doing great before I found out about Alek,” she says through clenched teeth to River. “So you can’t blame a mother for being concerned if the empire is going to shit.”
“Everything is fine,” I grit out.
She hmphs at me and takes a sip of her whisky. “So he decided to chase the dancer after all? Stupid, stupid boy. I told him to stay away.”
She pulls out a bag of flour and a new bowl.
“You know about her?” I ask, my eyebrows knitting in confusion.
River has since put his whiskey down and gravitated closer to me. I don’t know if he thinks it’s some kind of comfort, but I make sure to be out of arm’s reach in front of Meredith. Any type of touch, attachment, or endearment is viewed as a weakness.
I have only myself to blame for letting him come, but I’m not sure I could’ve stopped him either.
“Of course I do. You think I don’t still have my own informants? I don’t know much about the girl, and frankly, I don’t care. She’s a nobody.” Her accent slips out thicker. It always does when she’s scolding me or thinks someone has underestimated her intelligence.
“You think I don’t notice when one of my children becomes besotted with something or someone? I never thought he’d be stupid enough to actually chase after her. She’s most likely been sold, and he presumes with all his money and power he could buy her back. Little does he know the market in Russia is deadlier than here.” She shakes her head.
“Do you know her name?” I ask, thinking of the photo I received from the orphanage. Could it be the same girl?
