Page 49 of Where the Wind Whispers

He probably didn’t care because now, something else had his attention.

Violet didn’t even bother to wait for her father to invite her to the table or for him to say grace as he usually would before a meal. Her mother was gone—as she seemed to be doing a lot lately—and it was just her and Alberto at the table.

Nicole wasn’t there for Carmine, and there wasn’t even a plate put out for her brother.

She filled her plate with the casserole and potatoes the cook had set out as her father turned on the large flat screen at the other side of the room. All too soon, the newscast on the television flickered back and forth between the anchors at the station and the reporter standing on the edge of the road, across from a cemetery and a church.

Violet couldn’t help herself—she watched the report, listening as Vasily’s name was again verified as the deceased and listing the family members that had been seen at the church. The reporter talked about the affiliations Vasily had been suspected of having to the mafia when alive, and incidents that had been tied to his name and family over the years.

“And the deceased’s sons, Ruslan and Kazimir—”

Alberto hit the mute button on the remote as the reporter said the one name Violet wanted to hear more than anything.

It didn’t matter.

An earlier shot came up on the television, the camera zooming in from far away to catch sight of Kaz in a black three-piece suit, his head turned toward his older brother as he nodded once in response to whatever Ruslan had said.

He didn’t look … sad.

No, if anything, he just looked resigned. Not happy or pleased, but simply accepting of what was happening around him.

Violet supposed that made sense. After all Vasily had done to his son, death was the only real answer Kaz would give for it all.

Now, he had.

Obviously.

Still, Violet stared at the screen long after that brief clip had played itself out and was over. Her reaction at having seen Kaz’s face for the first time in … Jesus, how long had it been now? The days had bled into weeks and then a month.

Too long, she knew.

Her reaction was immediate and profound in her soul. Warmth in her blood and fire in her heart. She had been getting used to turning off her emotions and keeping herself in check every waking moment because someone was always watching, and it had never been more difficult to do than at that moment.

Kaz had done what he set out to do, and now all that was left was her.

“Violet.”

Alberto’s call of her name was the only thing that took Violet’s attention away from the television. She checked her reflection in the large mirror opposite the dining table, noting her expression had stayed neutral, thankfully.

She didn’t know how she managed it.

“Yes?” Violet asked.

Alberto stared at her for a long while, saying nothing. Even Carmine was watching her as if he was waiting for her to jump from her chair.

“Is something wrong?” Violet asked her father when he continued his silent treatment.

He blinked, schooling his features as he replied, “I don’t know. Is something wrong?”

Violet looked back at the television, the news already having moved on to a new story. “Not that I know of.”

“That didn’t bother you at all, then?” Alberto pressed.

“Bother? Why would it bother me?”

Alberto leaned forward, resting his arms on the table as he stared hard at Violet. “You did run off with the Russian, you know, before he sent you back. It wouldn’t be such a stretch for me to think you were still … hurting over it all.”

Violet smiled, cold and slow. “Hurt, Daddy? This doesn’t hurt at all.”