VIKTOR TARASOV
Dinner was unsurprisingly peaceful. The conversations flowed easily, and Reina was completely taken by Dahlia. They'd clicked over some multi-step skincare routine, and they hadn't stopped talking about it until Aleksei complained that Reina was monopolizing Dahlia's attention.
I don't think he really cared. He just liked messing with Reina. They were civil now, but their relationship was far from being completely peaceful. He still resented her a bit, and Reina was pissed at him for letting Ariana go.
Speaking of which, my other little cousin cleared his throat, drawing everyone's attention to himself. I took one look at the raging storm in his eyes, and I immediately braced myself for whatever bullshit he was about to spew.
Mikhail was far from being civil with anyone other than Aleksei, and he made it known at every family gathering, no matter how rare that was.
"I just have a question. Why is it cool for Viktor to bring a strange woman as his wife, and everyone is all smiles, but when it was Ariana, you had your hound of Hell on her ass?"
The question—or more like accusation—was directed at his father, but I was more than happy to answer his question for him. "Right. Right. You welcomed her with open arms, and how did that end? Remind me again why she's no longer here, and why you and Aleksei have been miserable ever since, Misha."
Misha's jaw hardened, and his grip on his glass of vodka tightened. Aleksei, on the other hand, had mastered faux indifference in the last few months, and he was unmoving, watching the scene play out through a lens of 'disinterest'.
"It's crickets now?" I urged, arching a mocking brow at Misha whose grip on his glass had only gotten progressively tighter while his lips remained tightly shut. "Well?"
"All of it could've been a misunderstanding," he finally hissed through gritted teeth. "It has nothing to do with you."
"Let me stop you right there, Misha," Igor's quiet, commanding voice thundered through the room.
We'd split from the women after dinner, and we were cooped up in one of the many living rooms the house had to offer, smoking cigars and talking shop before Misha decided to open his mouth.
"We lost Zoya. Viktor lost his mother. That's not something a little misunderstanding causes. It was deliberate." A muscle in Igor's jaw ticked, and mild irritation mixed with rage slipped into his eyes. "We could have lost Aleksei. That bullet could have hit your brother, and he'd no longer be here with us. I could've lost my son. Tell me, is it still none of our business? Viktor's especially, considering he was the only one who suffered any true loss in all of this 'misunderstanding'?
"I just wished Alyosha would've listened to me earlier when I told him to drop the girl. Then all of this could have been easily avoided. That girl was never deserving of any of his effort or attention. Unfortunately, some things you have to learn through firsthand experience."
Aleksei finally spoke up, interrupting his father before he could go on. "Stop. Stop speaking her about her in that condescending manner. She's not undeserving of anything, so just stop." His voice was slightly shaky, earning him as resigned sigh from his father. "And she has a name, too. Use it. She's not just some girl. She was my wife. Us no longer being together doesn't give any of you a free pass to disrespect her."
"She stabbed you in the back, dolbanyy durak." Fucking fool.
"Yes. Me. Not you, not Viktor, not Misha. Me. So, if I'm not bringing her up in conversations, I don't see why any of you should. Everything that happened is right where it belongs. The past. So, can I get a fucking clean break?" He dug his nails into the arms of the sofa, his earlier composure slowly but surely cracking. It was only a matter of time before he completely lost his shit.
"And Misha," he addressed his brother with a frostiness the latter didn't expect. "You're lucky she wasn't here to witness this conversation, but let this be the last time you speak about Dahlia in any way that could make her feel uncomfortable or unwelcome. Whatever she has going on with Viktor is none of our business."
I leaned back in my chair, a tight frown pulling at my brows. Well, shoot me in the head and tell me that the sky was green. What the fuck was Alyosha playing at? Considering all of the shit I'd given him in the last couple of months, I'd expected anything but him coming to the defence of Dahlia.
He continued, "Viktor is free game, but Dahlia stays out of your mouth. Are we clear?"
"Yes," Misha answered begrudgingly, pouting like a petulant child getting scolded.
"Good." Aleksei drained the content of his glass, stubbing his cigar out on the ashtray before he rose to his feet, avoiding his father's gaze the entire time. "I'll retire first."
He left the room, and Misha trailed behind him less than a second later, probably convinced that he'd combust if he spent a second longer in our presence without his big brother to shield him. It was hilarious.
Igor shook his head, his eyes squinted thoughtfully. "Alyosha is still a complete mess. When do you reckon he finally moves on?"
"Move on?" I laughed. "I give it another year before he's seeking her out again. I know you might hate to hear this, but there's truly no other woman for Aleksei as long as she is alive."
He arched a stern brow at me. "Like you and your wife?"
"Maybe," I answered vaguely, smiling when he rolled his eyes at me.
"I don't know what it is with you boys going off and getting married out of the blue without properly consulting me first. Not that I'm complaining." He let out a weary sigh. "I think she'll do you some good, calm you down further like age has."
My lips twitched. "You make it sound like I'm an old man. I'm only five years older than her, you know. And is that your way of saying you approve of her?"
"Cut the bullshit." He laughed. "You're just as strong-headed as Aleksei. You'll do whatever you want regardless."
He wasn't wrong, but it wouldn't hurt to get the approval of a man I looked up to. He'd assumed the role of a father in my life, a role my biological father somehow couldn't fulfil while he was still alive.
"I think she'll be good for you. She's your family now, son. The closest person to you. Of course, her needs should come first, but I really hope you wouldn't distance yourself from the family because of that." A deep-seated sadness filled his eyes, but then he shook his head, and it was gone. "I don't want to lose my family a second time."
"Never. I'll always be here."
"Good. I need your help to put those little brats of mine in their place," he joked, and we both shared a laugh over that. "Yevgeny would be proud of you if he was here."
"Would he?" I stared into the distance, gazing at nothing and everything all at the same time.
I didn't have much thoughts when it came to my father. I knew he loved my mother—and me, if his words were to be taken at face value—but that was about it.
Igor nodded vigorously. "Of course. His little boy all grown up into a man. There's no greater feeling than watching your child grow right in front of you. You'll understand in due time when you start having children of your own."
An incredulous laughter slipped past my lips. I couldn't even get my wife to completely let her guards down around me. A baby was nowhere in our nearest future. We still had a long way to go mentally before we got there.
"Baby steps, uncle. Baby steps."