CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The Astronomical Clock strikes two as I round the corner of the Old Town Hall—or what’s left of the town hall. Greed, Vanity, Death, and the Turk act out a lesson in medieval morality below the clock while the Twelve Apostles appear above.
Vladimir waits for me at a nearby café, sunglasses shielding his eyes as he sips at his coffee. Two bodyguards stand at a discreet distance. They start forward as I get closer. My father raises a hand, and they drop back.
“Thank you for meeting me,” I say, taking the seat across from him.
A server comes by our table, and I order a drink.
Vladimir takes off his sunglasses, his pale eyes a mirror image of my own. I’ve inherited his height and lean build as well.
However, I take after my mother in all other things—a male version of her, if you will. Perhaps this is why he dares to meet with me in public. No one would ever think we were related, much less father and son.
“I was bored,” he answers. “You amuse me.”
If he thinks to hurt me, he’s sorely mistaken. I don’t give a damn. “I’ve been ordered to execute your son.”
His eyes widen fractionally. “That is neither amusing nor boring.”
“But it is true.”
The server comes by with my coffee. I add milk and sugar, and then wait, letting the silence speak for me.
“How much?”
I give him the number. He curses under his breath. “Christian or Sebastian?”
“Does it matter?” I ask.
He pauses for only a moment, but in that brief time, I realize the truth. It does matter to him. If I were to say Christian, then he would walk away and leave my younger half-brother to the wolves.
“Of course not.” His gaze shifts away. “I was merely curious.”
Such an obvious lie. “It’s Sebastian. He is to pay for your refusal to honor contracts.”
Vladimir eyes me, as if to try to discern if I’m telling the truth or not. I hold up my hands and tilt my head to one side, before picking up my coffee cup. “I have no reason to lie to you.”
“Why are you telling me this?” he asks lightly. His hands, however, tell a different story. One is fisted, and the other is gripping the handle of his mug so tightly his knuckles are white.
“I thought you should know.” Setting down my cup, I eye him.
He says nothing to this, merely looks around the café. People are laughing, talking, and taking in the sights.
“Do you plan on seeing this through?” he finally asks.
I shrug, staring at the tourists. Everly would love it here. I should take her to see the Astronomical Clock. Perhaps this evening, before the final show plays at eight. “I plan on consulting Grandfather.”
“Is he the decider of life and death now?”
“He is the head of our family,” I remind him. Does Vladimir truly think I will execute Sebastian? I’ve already killed a man in order to save two lives, but now that I know Petrov is not the one who put the contract out on Sebastian, I’m back at the beginning.
“I suppose you want what you have been offered.”
I shake my head. “No.”
“How much?” he demands.
I level him with a look. If he wishes to see me like this, then I will play the part. “You can’t afford to pay what I’m worth.”
His face goes white. “What about a trade?”
The fucking bastard. He wants to trade Christian for Sebastian. “What did you have in mind?”
“Me.”
I barely stop myself from asking why. I refuse to move a muscle or acknowledge his sacrifice. He will have to work for my mercy.
“You?” Only years of discipline keep my face impassive. An assassin wears a mask at all times. Not even my eyes can give me away.
Affronted, Vladimir sneers at me. “Is that so hard to believe?”
Yes, you sorry bastard, it is. Discreetly, I take out my gun and show it to him. “Shall I do it now?”
“No.” His lips thin. “I know how this works. You’ll need to clear it with your contact first. I have to know Sebastian will be safe.”
“What of Christian?” I put my gun away.
He makes a sound of disgust. “What of him?”
I’m confused at this point. Why not offer the younger son, instead of himself? Vladimir is known for many things, but sacrifice is not one of them. “I will allow you to choose the place, day, time, and method.”
He visibly relaxes. “Morocco, my yacht, in three days, 9:00 a.m., and an explosion. But first, I want something to relax me. I don’t want to feel a thing.”
“Are you positive?”
Instead of answering, he asks, “How is Katerina?”
My distrust of him grows. He never concerns himself with her. “My mother is well.”
He nods. “This is good. Perhaps I should go see her, before… I love her, you know. You as well, Nikolai. But there were things she couldn’t give me, so I had to make a choice. I had to do what was best for my future.”
Is this his deathbed confession? I stare at him while he takes a sip of his coffee and then continues, “My father won’t live forever, and when he dies, change will happen. There are those who would like to see another in charge, one without the Romanov name.”
“Let them come,” I finally say.
“Kolya,” he says in a voice I haven’t heard since I was a small child. “You will be targeted first.”
“I know.” But what I don’t know is why he appears to care. My life has never mattered to him before, only my status as Grandfather’s favorite.
He sighs. “You’ve grown into a proper man, a man worthy to be head of the Romanov family. I wish my other sons were more like you.”
Vladimir has to be joking. Or insane. Possibly both. “You wish your sons to be killers?”
“Blyad.” He slices his hand through the air. “They are soft and spoiled, the both of them. They’ve no understanding of our ways, though I tried to teach them.”
“Perhaps you should have left them with Grandfather.” Like you did me.
“Perhaps. But I had different goals in mind for Sebastian and Christian.”
“What were your goals for me?” I have no idea why I ask this. In the grand scheme of things, it doesn’t matter. I don’t need his approval. I don’t need him at all.
He smiles. It is neither evil nor sweet and indulgent. His smile is just there, a mere movement of muscles forced upward. “To survive.”
Setting my coffee down, I rise to my feet. “I’ll let you know.” Without waiting for his reply, I walk away, disappearing into the crowds in case he has an urge to follow.
I glance at my watch. Only thirty minutes passed while we talked, while we decided who lived and died. Cold seeps into my bones. Cold and desolation. I have to kill my father in order to save his son.
Playing God is overrated.