Page 44 of Where the Wind Whispers

“What is it?”

“You could be a little nicer right now, Violet.”

“Could I?”

Caesar dropped the vitamins in the bag and handed it over, not giving it another ounce of his attention. Instead, his gaze focused on her. “Tell me, you don’t have your wedding bands hidden somewhere, right?”

“You already know the story—he sent me back without them.”

A smile graced his features, and then it was gone just as fast as it had come.

“No man who gives a woman a ring and his last name would take it back unless he intended to give it to her again someday,” Caesar said quietly. “He wouldn’t care to, you see? If he truly didn’t want her anymore, she could take the rings, his name, and run with it, as long as she was gone. I thought—maybe—your Russian was a special case. Cultural differences, we’ll say. Indulge me—how wrong was I?”

Violet shot a look behind Caesar, wondering who else might be in the hallway listening.

He seemed to take note of her distraction. “It’s fine. They’re drinking in your father’s office—I closed the door on my way out.”

“That doesn’t make me safe.”

“You—this agreement between our families that they’re working on—are a means to an end for me, nothing more. Not a means that I chose or wanted, mind you, but one nonetheless. If you have a way out of this for me, I would love to hear it.”

Violet swallowed hard. “I thought I was interesting—a challenge. Wasn’t that was you said earlier?”

“Spying is a bad habit.”

“You should close doors you intend to talk behind.”

“True enough,” he agreed, “but you just got a whole lot less interesting, Violet. Married women are one thing. Pregnant women are a whole other breed. No offense.”

“None taken. You’re not a very good made man, are you?”

Caesar smirked at that question. “I’m good at pretending to be, and isn’t that what matters?”

She was good at pretending, too.

Sometimes, a person had to work with what they had.

From the moment Vasily’s heart had stopped beating, it felt like there was a ticking clock in Kaz’s head. Counting down each second until he was back home and could start the arrangements for Vasily’s funeral, he knew that he would have to pay his mother and sisters a visit first before he did anything.

That idea weighed on him the most.

On the flight home, he thought of taking the easy way out. He could send one of his men to deliver the news that Vasily was dead—have them lie and say it was one of Vasily’s many enemies who had finally put him in the ground. But Kaz thought it better to tell the truth than to conceal what he had done.

The truth, no matter how painful, was always easier than a lie.

Now, as he drove toward his former home with something akin to anxiousness churning in his stomach, he knew that this would probably be the last time he stepped foot in this house—at least for a while.

The cars were parked in a neat line, Vera’s Bentley parked between the twins’ cars, and their mother’s car closest to the house. Before arriving, Kaz had called Vera, letting her know that she needed to come by the house.

He didn’t doubt that she knew exactly what he had to say—he could hear it in the way she hesitated before agreeing. No part of him thought this would be easy—before Vasily had let greed corrupt his mind, he had been a loving husband, a doting father.

In times like these, it was much harder to remember the harm he had done as opposed to the good memories they shared. Even Rus had been uncharacteristically silent on the ride over, lost in his own thoughts, but once they cleared the gate, he sat up a little straighter and snapped off his seat belt.

Before he stepped out of the car, Rus said, “It’s not too late to change your mind.”

Kaz didn’t respond, letting his silence answer for him as he pocketed the keys to his Porsche and followed Rus up the front steps and into the house.

When was the last time he’d been here? Though it couldn’t have been very long ago—before the wedding, he thought—he felt like nothing had changed in the short time he’d been gone.