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The door slides open before I can remind him that he’s not charged by the word.
“It’s his game face, doll. Don’t take it personally.”
“Don’t call my wife that.” Yuri glares at Vlad. “Have some fucking respect.”
I take his hand and squeeze it. “We’re here. Let’s not be the family that fights in front of people.”
“Yeah,” Vlad replies loudly. “Show some fucking class.”
“I will send you both downstairs,” I say quietly. “Behave.” Striding toward the door leading into the suite, I let out a long breath and hope the next hour goes smoothly.
Yuri takes my hand before we enter the suite and I all but gasp when we step inside. The shimmering view of the harbor is visible beyond the terrace, and the $15,000 price tag to sit and watch the boats glide by makes a lot of sense. “Holy moly.”
“It doesn’t get less impressive the more you see it,” Vlad comments.
The suite’s décor is not excessive and makes me think of Brahmin chic and not New York glamour. Fedor stands quietly to the left with a placid expression, and two large men stand to the right. Yuri speaks with them in Russian, and they nod respectfully. It looks like the Bratva outranks whatever security my grandmother brought from Moscow.
The double doors to the right open, and a woman in a gray uniform precedes the person I assume to be my grandmother. I step forward and study the elegant woman as she walks in my direction. Glamour and refinement surround the petite but fit octogenarian, and I feel my breath hitch when she reaches out her hand.
“Vnuchka.”
I take her hand and stare into eyes that match mine. “Grandmother.”
“I didn’t think this day would come.”
“Either did I.” I release her hand and step back. “But then again, I didn’t know you existed until a month ago.” Yuri joins me and slides his hand around my waist. “This is my husband, Yuri Novikov.”
“Priyatno poznakomit’sya, Mrs. Tarasov.”
“It’s nice to meet you. The feared Bratva avtoritet lives up to his reputation.” She turns to me. “I’m glad you took my advice and married a man who could protect you.”
Vlad steps forward. “This is my brother-in-law.”
“Mrs. Tarasov.” He tips his head and then steps back.
“Thank you both for protecting my granddaughter.” She waves over the woman in the uniform. “We’ll have tea near the window, Marta.”
“Yes, ma’am.
“We should enjoy this incredible view. I haven’t been in the States in more than thirty years.”
I follow her to the seating area and notice Yuri hanging back with Vlad. They stand near the bar in quiet conversation, and I hope it has nothing to do with the Bratva boys’ arrival. Taking the chair next to the couch, I smooth out my dress. “I’m not sure where to start. Perhaps I should offer my condolences on losing your son.”
“And your father,” she says quietly.
“The only memories I have of him are a dark beard and a loud voice. I’m not even sure if that’s accurate.”
“Your mother never showed you pictures?”
“No. She only said that if anyone ever found us, we would wish we were dead.”
“Inessa did have a flair for the dramatic.”
Sitting up, I feel my body tense. “Was the statement inaccurate?”
“Not completely.” Olga folds her hands in her lap. “Would you like to hear about your parent’s love story?”
“They were in love?”
