Page 8 of The Lies Between Lovers

Vaslav didn’t bother to wait for his man to take the lead out of the den before he made a beeline for the door. Behind him, he heard Igor ask, “Aren’t you going to close the safe or the latch door? You just spent an hour ripping apart any room you thought your mother might have been inside, and now you’re going to leave it wide open for anyone?”

“I’ll get back to it.”

Nobody said he had to make sense.

What was done was done.

Natalia didn’t take anything—or rifle through his belongings—on the surface, but that didn’t mean much, so what did it matter if he left the safe open?

That clearly wasn’t what she had come for.

“And find out what my mother is doing,” Vaslav added as he exited the den, and Igor’s footsteps followed behind. “Because she is doing something.”

She had to be.

He wanted to know what.

3.

“Church isn’t your thing, huh?”

“That obvious?” Vera asked, not hiding her sarcasm in the least.

“I thought your family was Jewish? Wouldn’t you be used to all of this God—”

“Non-practicing,” she replied, still clipped.

“Ah, my mistake.”

Well, it wouldn’t have been Feliks’ fault for the mistake, but frankly, he’d never cared to learn very much about Vera’s history or family during their short-lived relationship. She was just another trophy to him at the end of the day.

At least, she’d figured that out sooner rather than later.

She did, however, stop fidgeting in the rear pew to watch the progression following the glossy black casket with brass hardware be carried out by six pallbearers. Once the trailing line of family exited the cathedral, the rest of the people began to stand from the pews as well. Vera remained seated next to Feliks because he didn’t move as if he planned to leave right away.

As it was, she’d felt awkward enough being there. Who was she to show up at the funeral—a large funeral, considering the orthodox church was filled to the brim essentially with mourners—for a man she didn’t even know?

Yet, despite the number of people, she couldn’t help but notice how the pew Feliks chose for them to sit in, one at the very back, remained empty except for them. They’d arrived early enough that only a handful of people lingered in the church’s parking lot, and none of them even passed Feliks—or her—a glance.

Never mind a hello.

That didn’t change, either.

No matter how many people arrived dressed in the staple black, some with veils over their faces, and others dabbing at wet eyes with tissues they kept stuffing back in their pockets, no one came within ten feet of Feliks. No one even waved. She couldn’t remember a single soul in that church making eye contact with either of them, to be honest.

It struck her as odd, and frankly, left her feeling more like a pariah than ever sitting in the pew at the funeral of a stranger.

Feliks sighed as he eyed a group of five people, all men dressed in similar suits that they adjusted or swept off invisible dust as they made their way down the aisle. If it wasn’t for the fact they slowed a bit as they neared the pew where Vera and Feliks sat, she might not have paid as close attention to the men as Feliks did.

One glanced their way—his cold stare stayed above their heads, even as he tipped his chin down like maybe he was nodding at Feliks. She believed that was what he intended to do because her companion in the pew subtly nodded back, but quickly turned his attention back to the front of the church that was now empty. She didn’t miss the heavily tattooed hands that the one man shoved into the pockets of his slacks after he gestured for the rest of the group to continue beyond the double oak doors.

“Doesn’t really seem like you have a lot of friends here,” she noted.

Feliks expression darkened momentarily, but just as quickly, it was as if a sheet of nothingness fell over his face when his stare cut to her. “Doesn’t it?”

She only shrugged.

Over five-hundred people attended the funeral—a safe guesstimate, though it could have easily been more—and not one of them spoke to Feliks. People purposely avoided sitting in their pew. Neither of them headed to the front where the family of the deceased man—whose name she couldn’t even remember—waited for condolences from anyone who wished to pass the comfort along.