Where the Snow Falls (Seasons of Betrayal Book 2) (11 page)

“Thank you,” Violet said, not explaining why she was grateful.

Konstantin waved her statement off. “No worries. How do you feel about taking a few days to … well, get out of this townhouse and do some things?”

Violet just stared at him. “Kaz is gone, isn’t he?”

“What makes you think that?”

It was simple, really.

“He’d never let me leave this house after what happened—at least, not without someone he trusted with me. And you said a few days, so he isn’t coming back anytime soon.”

She tried not to be angry that Kaz had gone and not told her.

“I like you,” Konstantin said. “You’re quick.”

“Where is he?”

“New York.”

Violet liked Konstantin.

He was honest.

Even if the truth scared the fuck out of her.

“Why?” she asked.

Konstantin smiled lightly. “Many reasons.”

“Why didn’t you go?”

His amusement fled instantly as he repeated, “Many reasons.”

“You could give me one.”

“My father would never approve, and he’s one man I try not to irritate.”

Violet understood that better than Konstantin could possibly know. “So you’re stuck babysitting me while they’re having all the fun, huh?”

Konstantin’s serious expression cracked as he started laughing.

“Something like that, Violet.”

Violet was pretty damn sure her eyes couldn’t stretch any wider than they currently were as she stared at the wall of money across from her.

She knew wealth. Of course, she did.

However, she hadn’t seen a
wall
of money before.

“Close your mouth,” Konstantin said as he strolled past her, entirely unaffected by her gawking.

“How much is there?”

“A few hundred thousand, give or take.”

Nope.

Violet’s eyes could get wider.

“Seems like a lot more,” she said more to herself than Konstantin.

“Small bills,” Konstantin replied by way of explanation. “You’re not here to stare at the wall, Violet. Come on.”

Still staring at the cash, Violet followed behind Konstantin, only taking her gaze off the wall of cellophane-wrapped bricks of money when he slammed the office door. She couldn’t see it, then.

“Take a seat,” Konstantin said. “I won’t be long.”

Violet took in the office space, which was much larger than she had first realized. Konstantin made his way over to his desk, spinning the leather chair around and falling into it as he opened a drawer at the same time. She didn’t find a seat like he had told her to; instead, she milled about the edge of the office, taking in the artwork on the wall and the books on the shelves.

Konstantin seemed far too interested in whatever he was looking through to notice Violet’s snooping.

That or he didn’t care.

She suspected it was the latter, considering the man had eyes in the back of his fucking head. She’d given him the finger behind his back earlier when he’d made one of his smart-ass comments, and somehow, the bastard knew.

“Are you pissed?” Konstantin suddenly asked.

Violet swung around to stare at him. “For what?”

“I don’t know … Kaz going off without a word? Seems a good reason.”

“Am I supposed to be?”

Violet wasn’t particularly happy—a goodbye or an explanation would have been nice—but she had to trust that Kaz knew what he was doing. She didn’t expect him to sit around and wait after her father’s men had come far too close just three days earlier.

“Better that you’re not,” Konstantin noted, “because I can’t stand pissy women.”

She glowered at him, less than impressed with his crudeness.

Still, Violet let it go, strolling over to a leather chair in the corner to sit down. “What are we doing here, anyway?”

“Making sure things are as they’re supposed to—” His words cut off as his gaze cut to the side, glancing at the flat-screen monitor on the desk. All emotion wiped from his features in a blink. He turned to stone, cold and hard. “Well, shit.”

Violet frowned.

That didn’t sound good.

“Something wrong?”

Konstantin’s gaze flicked to her and then back to the monitor. “No … Not at all.”

“Okay.”

“A word of advice, Violet.”

“For what?” she asked, confused as hell.

“Let him introduce himself first, and don’t speak unless he talks to you. Black is the best color. And pickles are God’s gift to man, much like women and vodka.”

Violet’s brow crumpled. “What?”

Her confusion didn’t last long, as a knock sounded on the office door a second before it was thrown open. The man who strolled in, lit cigar in hand, immediately reminded Violet of Kolya because of his large stature and wide shoulders. He was dressed in all black—from his shoes to his suit to even the cufflinks in the black dress shirt he wore.

Somehow, maybe it was the color of his eyes—a cold black—as his gaze fell on her in the corner and then passed over her just as quickly to look at Konstantin, or maybe it was the almost intimidating quality of his aura, but she knew …

This was the Boykov brothers’ father.

The man’s next words confirmed her suspicions.

“Son,” he greeted. “What did I tell you about bringing guests to the compound? Not to, yes?”

Konstantin’s eyes snapped to Violet but quickly went back to his father. “She’s harmless.”

“I’m sure.”

“Worry not, Vadim. She wouldn’t know where to begin even if I told her to go wild.”

“It isn’t hard to figure out, Konstantin,” Vadim replied coolly. “Anyone with two brain cells could figure it out if they stared at it all long enough.”

“That isn’t Kaz’s style.”

Vadim seemed to take those words in slower than he had the others, mulling over a response as he turned to give Violet another once-over. She could distinguish the similarities in his features to those of his sons’—Konstantin shared his father’s hard lines while Kolya shared the size and demeanor, obviously.

“You can sure tell where she comes from, no?”

Violet blinked, her mouth opening to ask what that was supposed to mean.

Konstantin’s earlier words kept her quiet.

“Like an olive,” Konstantin replied, chuckling.

Violet did look at Konstantin that time, silently questioning.

“You have a darker tone—olive, they call it,” he explained.

What?

“And you’re what—snow white?” Violet asked before she could stop herself.

Silence echoed in the room for a split second, making Violet realize she had opened her mouth before she was apparently supposed to.

It didn’t seem to matter.

Vadim’s heavy, thick laughter filled the office, and Konstantin sat back in his chair, grinning in that way of his that said she had managed to surprise him, once again.

“I can see why she might have caught his eye,” Vadim noted after his laughter died down. “Well…” His gaze traveled over Violet’s figure, never lingering for too long, but making sure he got his fill. “One reason, anyway.”

“Dad,” Konstantin murmured.

Vadim waved his son off. “Are you enjoying Chicago, girl?”

“Violet,” she said. “My name is Violet.”

“I know your name. It isn’t what I asked.”

“I like it just fine.”

Vadim, seemingly satisfied with her answer, turned his attention back to Konstantin. “Grisha is waiting at the door for me. I told him I wouldn’t be long, and you know how that bastard gets restless when I make him wait. Is everything set?”

“As well as it can be.”

“The order will be filled on time?”

“And in their hands early,” Konstantin replied just as fast.

“What about New York?” Vadim asked, his gaze sliding back to Violet for a quick moment.

Violet held her breath, waiting for Konstantin’s reply. While he had mostly brushed her questions off, and Kaz had yet to answer her text messages back—she suspected he had spent the morning on a plane—she figured Konstantin would be more likely to give his father a different response than he gave her.

“Nothing yet,” Konstantin replied. “Not that I know much—you wanted me here, hmm?”

Vadim’s hostile demeanor was back in a blink. “You know why that is.”

“Yet you allowed Kolya to—”

“Kolya is not like you. Finish up here and get the girl off the compound. Regardless of who she is or where she comes from, we don’t share secrets, even with friends.” With that, Vadim turned on his heel, making for the door. As he passed Violet’s spot, he said, “A pleasure, Violet, I’m sure.”

“And you …”

She still wasn’t sure what she should call him.

Vadim offered her a thin, cold smile, almost as if he could read her mind. He didn’t offer her a name to call him, though.

It reminded her of someone else—someone who also hadn’t thought she deserved the respect of calling him by his name.

Vasily Markovic.

Once Vadim was gone, and the office door closed, Konstantin sighed loudly.

“Well,” he drawled.

Violet looked at him. “What?”

He looked exhausted all of the sudden. Like that short conversation with his father had taken all of his patience, effort, and give a fuck he had.

“Well,” Konstantin said again, chuckling, “you survived. That’s a mark for you.”

What had she missed?

Violet didn’t think she would get an answer even if she asked.

“Get off your phone.”

Kaz glanced up from the device and over at Kolya, who was seated in a window seat on the other side of the jet. Though his attention focused solely on the night sky outside, he had still known.

Kolya frowned. “I can smell your paranoia from here. Konstantin will look after her.”

He didn’t doubt it, but that didn’t make him worry any less. He could excuse it before because he was still in the city, still close enough that should there be a need, he could get to her. Now, he was thousands of feet in the air, and should she need him, he wouldn’t know for at least another two hours.

But still. The next best thing to Kolya was Konstantin, and should the need arise, Kaz didn’t doubt that he would handle any problem that came up.

“Your Italian, tell me of her.”

Kolya said ‘Italian’ like it was a foreign, mystical thing that he couldn’t quite wrap his mind around. “What do you want to know?”

“Anything. Everything. I just don’t see it. You know her from fuck all, yet here you are, about to start a war with that father of yours for her.”

What the hell was he supposed to say to that?

Kaz had never considered how others might have felt about his relationship with Violet—he had only cared for her feelings on the matter. That was just the way it was.

But how could he possibly sum up the way he felt about Violet for Kolya to understand? Shit, he could barely explain it to himself.

From that very first glare she sent him in Rus’ office, he knew.

“I was there the day they found Maya, remember?” Kaz asked, the memory popping into his head. “You threw a man through a glass window just because he made her cry—you had known her for all of three minutes.”

Kolya frowned, rubbing his jaw. “That doesn’t sound right.”

Kaz raised a brow. “Which part?”

“I didn’t
throw
him. It was a punch,” Kolya said with a nod of his head, as though this made all the difference.

“Do you really want to argue semantics?”

“Facts are facts.”

“
Regardless
,” Kaz said before Kolya could say anymore, “if you were sitting in my seat, you would be doing the same thing.”

“No,” Kolya corrected. “If I were in your seat, I would’ve shot your father in the fucking face months ago—first order of business once I was released. And if Maya’s father—rest his fucking soul—had thought to stand between her and me then he’d be in the ground too. That’s what I need you to remember, Kaz.”

He looked at Kolya. It was very rare that the man made a spiel since he rarely spoke unless needed, but when he did, there was a reason.

“You forgot how this business is done. When I asked you why you came to Chicago, it was not because you’re not welcome—it was because you left New York before Vasily was cold in the ground. You forgot the one lesson the fucking bastard taught all of us: Never turn your back on the motherfucker you’re trying to kill. You gave him too much time to prepare.”