THE DAY IS OVER, AND IT’S SAFE TO SAY I AM PROUD OF MYSELF.
Not only because of the suggestion I’d given back there earlier this morning or everyone’s reaction to it. I am proud of myself because of the resilience it took me to actually sit through it, listening to those men discuss the brutal dealings of the Bratva without even batting an eyelash or showing how disgusted I was. And honestly, it had also taken me a whole lot not to throw up over the table.
Dmitry and I are now seated at the backseat of the car we came in, on our way back to the mansion after dinner in a five-star restaurant whose name I can’t remember. His attention is focused on the world outside, a cigar between his lips, and my own attention is focused on the memory of my Father.
Before Dmitry and I left the restaura
