Page 22 of Lord of the Underworld

In which you can always count on the cousins for some good gossip.

Oksana…

The girls are serious about not letting me go home. "We caught your mother in a weak moment," Anka says. "Let's take advantage of it."

"I have the perfect place," Caroline says. "We'll have dinner at the Hotel Tsaritsa. It's one of the Morozov properties and their restaurant is spectacular. Especially their desserts."

"This is so relaxing," Anka hisses to me. "Is this what it's like in the real world?"

I know what she means. Socializing with the daughters from the Six Families is a high-wire act, an exhausting balance of elaborate manners, rituals, and behaviors that have been embedded in us from the moment the sperm met the egg. Every misstep is to be shared in whispers and texts - You won't believe what she did! Then, a twittering round of scorn that won't die out until the next scandal or behavioral atrocity.

Being here with the Morozova women, laughing uncontrollably, feels so… uncomplicated.

Drinks are ordered, a tray of blini and caviar is presented to the table and Dasha launches into the story of her latest adventure, which includes a drunken tryst, the mayor's son and a conversation with the Central Park Mounted Police while in a state of undress in the koi pond.

"I had my underwear on, at least," she says defensively. "We never found Robert's pants. I think one of the fish ate them."

"This is the stuff of legends," Rose says, holding her stomach.

"Stop," I wheeze. "I think I cracked a rib from laughing too hard. You have to give me a break."

"On the bright side," Anka says, "No reporter in their right mind was going to cover that bust."

"Yeah, in retrospect, I was happy about that," Dasha says. "That might be my last official Drunk and Stupid moment for a while."

"Back to Oksana," Rose says, "since I'm guessing this is as close to a bachelorette party as you're going to get, we need to talk about all things you. In particular, why you don't seem freaked out at all. I mean, you're marrying the Angel of Death this weekend and you seem so calm about it."

Accepting another shot glass and tapping it against Caroline's, I down it and wince as the burn of vodka tears down my throat. "What choice do I have? Are you going to be the one to tell my father and the Turgenevs that I'm not marrying Vadim because he's scary? Do you want to look my husband-to-be in his icy blue eyes and tell him that?"

"Oh, she noticed his icy blue eyes…" Dasha fans herself with a cocktail napkin.

"So very blue," simpers Rose.

"Is this more like bleak resignation, then?" Caroline asks, ignoring them.

"No, it's my feeling that Vadim won't hurt me," I say. "You all have that sixth sense by now, in the Bratva, it's survival, built into our DNA." The table grows a little quieter, they're all leaning in, putting their drinks down. "We've all developed a finely tuned sense of who means us harm. I know I'm not the only one."

"This is true," Anka agrees. "And with a human wall of death and muscle like Vadim, you're the safest woman in the Northern Hemisphere."

"Rock solid," Rose agrees.

Iris knocks her shoulder gently against mine. "These men - the Morozovs and the Turgenevs - have an unbreakable bond of loyalty towards their women. I felt that way about Andrey, even when I initially hated his guts, I felt safe. Come for the wedding ring, stay for the cognitive dissonance!"

"Enough about Oksana, then," Caroline says, smiling at me gently. "Time to put someone else on the spot. Rose! What about you? Do you want to tie the knot?"

"Knot? More like a noose, no thank you," Rose says morosely. "After a long line of not-great boyfriends - including the asshole who ran away when I was in the middle of an attempted kidnapping - I'm done. My mad skills in flirtation are withering away and I'm okay with it. Maybe I'll start a women's only co-op in New York City. Can you imagine how fierce the bidding for an apartment would be?"

That's worth another round of shots.

"You're coming home with me tonight," I tell Anka.

"Why?" Her cheek is smooshed against my shoulder as an amused bodyguard helps me pour her into the backseat.

"Because you are deep in your drunk girl era and tonight is no exception," I say, putting on her seatbelt.

"That was fun," Iris says, giving me a hug as their drivers pull up to the front of the hotel, too. "Since you'll be in Chicago for the foreseeable future, we can all see more of each other."

Dasha nods at a blissfully snoring Anka. "I like her."