Tuesday
September 4, 2018
Carmen is waiting for him in his living room when Dmitri walks out of the elevator. She is alone but dressed up to the nines, which either means that she just came back from a meeting with his grandma or is about to leave. Her expression is neutral, but her dark eyes are intent and ready to pick up their fight where they left off, should the need arise.
“Carmensita,” Dmitri greets her, leaning down and kissing her on the cheek like it’s their tradition. “Here to pick on me some more?”
“Chico,” she says, her palm sliding onto his cheek. “I overstepped yesterday.”
“Yes, you did.” Dmitri pulls back to sit across from her, crossing his legs at the knee. “But I understand. Your loyalty is first and foremost to my grandmother and the family. And objectively speaking it could be seen like I endangered everything we stand for.”
“Yet, our relationship is anything but objective,” Carmen sighs, running a hand through the tight ponytail she pulled her hair into. “I should have trusted you.”
“Thank you.” He knows it’s the closest he’s going to get to an outright apology and doesn’t press the issue further. It would be futile anyway.
“It doesn’t mean you shouldn’t have found a way around this idiotic rule.” Obviously, Carmen feels differently. “Send Carmichael or one of the others to get your student’s ass out of jail.”
“And make the boy feel like he can’t turn to me for help?” Dmitri counters, raising an eyebrow.
“It’s not your job to—”
“You mean it’s not my job to support the pupils in my care any way I need to?”
“Don’t turn my own words against me, Pup,” Carmen warns, but the faint crowfeet at the corner of her eyes deepen with the ghost of a smile that threatens to curl her lips.
“Why? Because they are true?”
“Stupid brat.” Carmen shakes her head, but the gesture is fond and she is smiling now. “Did you achieve your goal then? Does your pupil trust you?”
“He’s getting there, I think,” Dmitri replies.
He’s not lying. Maybe it’s not what he envisioned before his first day. Maybe it’s not ideal and his students are anything but cute, eager to learn children, but after today, he still has some hope left that they will come to accept him. And Thommy seems to be really getting there if his behavior after their class is anything to go by. His praise and the way he thanked him for helping him despite all the power games going on in their class means much more to Dmitri than the boy will ever realize probably. And that’s fine. As long as Thommy and hopefully his friends will eventually realize that he’s not their enemy, he will be happy.
Carmen’s gentle look is a rare sight, but it never fails to make Dmitri’s chest fill with warmth. He doesn’t remember his mother, he was too young when she died, yet he likes to imagine that she had the same gentleness to her that Carmen hides behind her cold stares and larger than life presence. Even if his mother was a coward who had run away from the family and her responsibilities.
When Carmen finally stands up after a few minutes of companionable silence, which both of them spent studying the other and reassuring themselves that they will be fine, Dmitri automatically reaches out, knowing that she will take his hand and pull him up.
“Cheeky pup,” she chuckles, linking their arms together once again.
“Grandmother is expecting me, I take it?” Dmitri asks, not hiding her amusement.
“Yes, she has a few things to discuss with you.”
“So things didn’t go smoothly last night.” It’s not a question.
“No one is hurt, not even that little idiot,” Carmen grits out, her good mood suddenly gone. “She’s lucky I was too tired to flay her alive when we got back.”
“Don’t tell me Carlo had a change of heart,” Dmitri scoffs, sneering at the thought of that snivelling bastard Carlo Amelloni trying to go back on an agreement Dmitri himself had made with August Farine. Carmen doesn’t even need to say anything to know he’s right. “A pity. I guess I ought to call Signore Farine and cordially invite him over for an audience with Grandmother.”
Carmen sighs. “I’m afraid it’s unavoidable this time. We both know this is not the first time Carlo pulled some stunt on us. Your grandmother believes he might be trying to undermine his uncle’s business.”
“Hm…” Dmitri thinks this over, but it doesn’t need much thought. He can see it easily. Carlo has been a pain in the ass ever since he managed to worm his way into becoming Farine’s second in command, doing his best to cause as many problems without being caught as possible. He has been exploiting the good relationship between the Farine and Yuriev families. And so far his little insults have been not too hard to let pass, but whatever he actually did last night to interfere with finalizing the agreement proved to be too much.
“You agree with her.”
“Maybe,” he replies, not taking a stance. “There are too many unknown factors at the moment to decide for sure.”
“That’s incredibly bullshitty of you.”
Dmitri looks at himself in the mirrored back wall of the elevator, only just realizing that he’s about to meet his grandmother in his work clothes and knows that she will laugh at him the moment she lays eyes on him. He thinks about discarding his gray vest and mussing his hair up a bit, but before he could do anything the elevator dings and they are walking into his grandmother’s lavish sitting room where his grandmother’s favorite tea set is set out on the ornate coffee table.
His grandmother is nowhere to be found, which means that she’s probably with her mother, helping her get ready. In spite of the situation’s possible severity, Dmitri feels his lips curl into an amused smile at how well-trained his great-grandmother has her daughter. To have his grandmother at her beck and call despite being shockingly spry and bright at almost one hundred never ceases to amuse him, especially when he sees them walk into a room together.
Like now.
His grandmother is as regal and brimming with power as ever, her glacial blue eyes taking in every detail and subtle change in her home. Her snowy white hair is pulled back into a severe bun at the top of her head, reminding Dmitri of the prima ballerina she used to be. She could easily pass for someone fifteen years younger, the only mementos of time on her body are her prematurely white hair and the faint, yet visible lines etched around her immaculately painted lips and eyes.
His great-grandmother is still a vision at the impressive age of 91. Her spine straight and steps sure in her sensible heels, something she refuses to give up despite the doctors’ advice. She refuses to wear makeup, however, claiming that she never once needed it to get what she wanted, she won’t start when she’s one foot in the grave and wears her hair short because that way it’s easier to handle. Her dark gaze is alert but tired, intelligence shining in the brown depths that instantly find Dmitri when she walks through the side doors leading to her suite.
“Malýš, why the clown costume?” are her first words to him, even as she steps away from her daughter and opens her arms, expecting a hug. “You look pathetic.”
“Babushka Illya,” Dmitri says in return, wrapping his arms around her slightly shorter frame, “as sweet as ever.”
“Pssh, sweetness.” She sneers. “Never heard of such ridiculous notion before. Now lend a hand to your old prababka and help me to that chair. Your grandmother is a useless escort.”
“Why, because she doesn’t coddle you?” Dmitri asks cheekily, earning a sharp slap to the back of his head.
“Svoloč,” she curses him. “For that, you’re sitting with me and going to cater to my every whim.”
“As you wish.”
He leads his great-grandmother to the cream-colored settee and grins when she bats his hand away and sits down on her own just to be contrary. Her glare is cutting but not necessarily unkind, bringing back old memories of being yelled at for messing up some moves in knife training moments before he was handed a plate of cake and told to eat all of it. His prababka is anything but a gentle soul, yet Dmitri can’t help the way he adores her for owning her abrasive personality with pride.
“Pour tea,” she commands, disgust written all over her face as if to says tea is beneath her.
And isn’t that the truth? Even just a decade ago she could drink her daughter’s strongest men under the table, closely followed by her personal bodyguard team, all of them wiry, almost frail-looking women. At fourteen, it was the most hilarious sight to see for Dmitri whenever he wandered into one of his prababka’s drinking parties she held when her daughter was away on a trip. It was the first and only time she got him drunk, and he will never forget the way his grandmother practically breathed fire when she came home and learned what happened.
Things have changed since then. His prababka’s health isn’t what it used to be and she hates it. She hates being old and getting weaker each day, but it doesn’t mean Dmitri can’t poke some fun at her for being rendered to drinking herbal tea instead of Russia’s finest vodka.
“Don’t even think about it,” she snaps before he can open his mouth, however. Dmitri just smiles and does it anyway.
“Aww, but prababka, I’m just worried about you,” he coos, ducking when her hand strikes out to hit him again. “Ah ah ah, no hitting or I’ll tell Doctor Thad that you’ve been cheating on your diet.”
“You can’t prove it,” she counters, outraged. “Just because you want to suck that stervec’s dick—”
“Mat’!” Dmitri’s grandmother cuts in sharply, pale gaze full of ice chip lightning as she stands on the other side of the coffee table, Carmen’s hand on her shoulder. “Just because you’re throwing a fit over something that’s supposed to help you live longer, don’t take it out on Dmitri.”
“What’s life worth if I can’t live it the way I want to? Stop being a selfish bitch and let me just die in peace!”
“Prababka…” Dmitri says quietly, taking her fisted hand.
“Zakrój rot! I’m done with this nonsense,” she snaps. “Talk business then get lost. All of you.”
“Glupaja suka,” Dmitri’s grandmother spits but sits down and looks at him instead. Carmen remains standing, taking her place behind Dmitri’s grandmother. “I know Carmen has informed you about the issue with Carlo Amelloni.” Her look tells him that the topic of his absence will be discussed later. “And she might have also told you about my theory.”
“Yes.” Dmitri nods. “I can see how his insults could work as a way to undermine the Farines’ relationship with us, however, we can’t ignore the possibility of Farine himself being the one who is pulling the strings behind the scenes.”
“You are right. I thought about that option as well,” she says before she lifts her cup to her lips and takes a sip of the tea Dmitri prepared for her. “I would be inclined to agree with you if he didn’t have problems with his other business. He can’t afford to alienate us when his power is questioned already.”
“Unless he is trying to prove his opponents that he can fool us and take us down too at the same time.”
____
Malýš - little one
Svoloč - rascal
Stervec - bastard
Zakrój rot - shut up
Glupaja suka - stupid bitch
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