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someone to not hate me.”

His arms tightened around me and he let out a long-

suffering sigh. “I could never hate you.”

I squeezed him tight. When I finally got control of my

voice again, I asked, “Do you think Vasiliy can ever love

me again?”

“I don’t think he could ever stop loving you,” said Yuri.

“But there will be changes. You will have to go back to

Moscow. You must never see this man again.”

Fresh tears forced their way up from the depths,

scalding hot and bitter. “I love him!”

“Then you too are stupid and unlucky.”

I frowned. You too?

Yuri shook his head. “But that does not make this right.”

“I know,” I said in a tiny voice. He still hadn’t asked

what I was doing in his room. He thinks I came to see

him, I realized. And that made me feel even worse,

because that’s what I should have done.

He hugged me like that for a few moments, rocking me

gently from side to side. “You are not like other

Malakovs. Too much fire. Your mother had too much

fire, too.”

“Then...why did she stay?” I blurted. I pushed myself

back from his chest so that I could look up at him and

sniffed. “She used to tell me that she didn’t want this for

me. She didn’t want me to be with a gangster. If she

didn’t like it, why did she stay?”

Yuri thought for a moment. “Because she was stubborn

like you are, too. She saw she was good for your

father.”

“She stayed because she loved him?”

“Yes. And because he needed her.”

I looked blankly at him.

He sighed and looked at the ceiling. “I am not right

person to explain fucking women,” he muttered to

himself. “Your father...he was cold. Very cold. He could

be cruel to his enemies.”

I frowned. My dad had been tough, sure, but I hadn’t

thought of him as cold or cruel.

Yuri read my look. “I knew him in his early days, before

he met your mother. She balanced him. Is same way

with all Malakov men.”

I thought of Luka and Arianna. Of Angelo’s mother,

supporting his father. Suddenly, it all started to make

sense. I thought of Vasiliy: I knew he’d used to be

warmer and kinder, when I was growing up.

“Vasiliy...when his wife died, is that when he started to

turn cruel?”

Yuri shook his head sadly. “No. It would have been. But

he had someone else who kept him balanced. Until she

pulled away.”

“A lover?” I asked in wonder. “A mistress?”

Yuri gently put his hands on my shoulders and stared

into my eyes.

“Me?!” I croaked.

He nodded.

I blinked at him and stepped back, my head spinning.

He gazed at me sadly as I stumbled off down the

hallway.

Me? I’d been responsible for keeping Vasiliy moderated

all those years?

But it made sense. When he first took Lizaveta and me

under his protection, his wife had been dead a few

years and he’d seemed cold and distant. But the shock

of our parents’ deaths and suddenly having two girls

under his roof had jolted him off the path he’d been on.

And as I became involved in the business he’d gradually

warmed. Yuri was right: I’d been his conscience, his

light in the darkness, just as his wife had been.

I’d thought that I hated our family because I’d been

constantly arguing with him. Now I realized that that

was my purpose: I was his counterbalance. How many

times had he stepped back from some vicious course of

action because I’d told him it was too cruel? How many

times had I unwittingly defused a situation, just by

being there for him to vent to over a game of chess?

I’d pulled away from my family. I’d dreamed of freedom

and New York and isolated myself from Vasiliy more and

more. And then I’d wondered why he became colder

and colder.

My whole view of the last few years twisted around,

reversing itself. All those things Vasiliy had done that

drove me crazy: following me to New York, visiting all

the time...God, even my arranged marriage with Mikhail.

They were all ways of staying close to me.

Subconsciously, he knew he needed me, even if he’d

never admit it. And the harder he’d tried to keep me

close, the more I’d pulled away.

The realization hit me in the chest like a sledgehammer:

this whole aggressive expansion into New York, the

partnership with Mikhail, the gang war we were now in:

none of this would have happened if I’d been there to

calm him, to be his warmth and his conscience. I’d

always said I didn’t want to be a Malakov: I hadn’t

understood that I was a vital part of the mixture that

made the Malakovs work.

I stopped walking and had to hold onto the wall to

steady myself. This is all my fault!

I climbed the stairs to the first floor just in time to see

Mikhail leaving, a wide grin on his face and a small army

of men in tow. Some were carrying guns, some baseball

bats, some cans of gasoline.

It was all my fault...and it was too late to fix it. The war

had begun.

34

Angelo

The fires were the worst. Fighting and smashed-up

storefronts...I could kid myself that that was random.

But when I saw the owners standing in tears in the

street, watching the flames roaring through the place

they’d spent twenty years building...then, I knew I’d

fucked up. These were my people, this was my turf, and

I’d failed utterly to protect them.

I told them all the same thing. I hugged them and said,

“I’ll make this right.” And they took my hand and shook

it and told me they trusted me. But I could hear it in

their voices: they’d never fully trust me again.

The Fire Department did their best but there were too

many fires and they burned too aggressively: Mikhail’s

thugs had smashed their way in and then poured

gasoline over everything. The firefighters kept looking at

me: they knew this was connected to me and they

wanted to know how I could let it happen. They were

probably wondering if the same thing would be

happening to Russian businesses in a few hours.

I did what I could. I even joined the bucket chains at

some of the fires until the overstretched Fire

Department could get to them, but we saved maybe

one place out of ten. Meanwhile, I was getting phone

calls about cars, boats and real estate being smashed

up—the Russians were destroying anything that was

under our protection. It was like nothing the community

had ever seen: brutal, all-out destruction. It was Mikhail

and his men who lit the fires and raised the baseball

bats, but I could feel Vasiliy’s raw hatred behind it all.

This was personal.

And it had a horrifying knock-on effect. Fights were

breaking out in the streets, not just between my guys

and Mikhail’s men but between civilians. Russian guys

who’d never dared set foot in our neighborhood

suddenly got bold and came looking for trouble, in

gangs or on their own. Meanwhile, the local guys were

on the streets looking for payback and they took their

anger out on anyone who looked or sounded like they

might be Russian. I met with community leaders and

reached out to the gangs, trying to calm them down,

but how do you convince a hot-headed sixteen year-old

to stay home when his parents’ coffee shop just got

torched?

I told women to stay off the streets and made sure

Grace had shut down Cinderella’s and sent the girls