Part Three opens in Zhukovka, Moscow, shifting our focus to Lev's extended family and introducing a layer of potential conflict.
VICTOR'S POV
The sprawling dacha in Zhukovka, a testament to generations of Petrov wealth, felt both grand and stifling to me. Sunlight, fractured by the ornate stained-glass windows of the drawing-room, did little to warm the chill that had settled in his bones - a chill that had less to do with the late autumn air and everything to do with my brother Dimitri's infuriatingly charmed life.
My parents, Nikolai and Katerina, sat stiffly on the antique velvet sofa, their faces etched with a familiar blend of concern and disapproval. I had cultivated that expression carefully over the past few years, a slow, steady erosion of their affection for Dimitri and his American wife, their precious granddaughter and grandson.
"He didn't even call on our anniversary, Victor," Mama said, her voice trembling slightly. "Sixty years we've been together. Not a word from our only son."
I leaned forward, my express. Family traditions mean nothing to them now."
I carefully omitted the fact that Dimitri had, in fact, sent a lavish bouquet and a heartfelt video message, intercepted and conveniently "lost" by me.
My father, usually the more stoic of the two of us, sighed heavily. "And the business? Victor, you say Dimitri is... distracted?"
"Distracted is putting it mildly, Papa,"
Victor said, allowing a hint of concern to lace his tone. "RusTech is a powerful entity, a legacy. It requires unwavering focus. Lev... he's young, ambitious, perhaps a little too influenced by his mother's side of the family. Dimitri trusts him implicitly, but is that wise? Especially with these American partners now involved?" He subtly played on their ingrained suspicion of anything foreign.
Mama wrung her hands. "Your father always said blood was thicker than water, Victor. Dimitri is our son."
"And I am your son too, Mama," Victor said softly, a hint of wounded pride in his voice. "I only speak out of concern for the family's well-being, for the Petrov name. Dimitri's choices... they have consequences. And Lev... well, he carries that American influence within him. We must be vigilant."
I watched my words land, the seeds of doubt and resentment he had so diligently planted continuing to take root in their aging hearts. My parents, isolated here in Zhukovka, their connection to their son and grandson filtered solely through my carefully constructed narrative, were increasingly pliable.
A flicker of satisfaction, cold and sharp, touched my eyes. New York might hold Dimitri and his offspring for now, but Moscow - and the enduring power of family loyalty, however manipulated - was still a force to be reckoned with. And I, Victor Petrov a patient man. My time would come.
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Author's POV
Barely thirty minutes after the whirlwind arrival from JFK, a semblance of order was settling into the NoHo penthouse.
His mother, had retreated to the bathroom for a much-needed bath, the sound of running water a soothing murmur in the otherwise quiet apartment.
Ania, sprawled on the plush bed, was already lost in the digital world of her phone, a familiar sight.
Lev, feeling the need to ensure their comfort, headed towards the sleek, minimalist kitchen. He found Sofia, his efficient and discreet housekeeper, already anticipating his needs.
"Sofia, could you prepare something light and healthy for my mother and sister? Perhaps some fresh fruit, yogurt, and herbal tea?" he requested, his voice calm but with an underlying note of care.
"Of course, Mr. Petrov. I will have it ready shortly," Sofia replied with a quiet nod, already moving towards the refrigerator.
Just then, Maxim, appeared in the hallway, carrying the last of their luggage. "Where would you like these, Mr. Petrov?"
"Just inside the guest bedrooms,Maxim. Thank you," Lev directed, pointing down the hall.
He leaned against the kitchen counter.The fleeting image of the striking woman at the airport was now completely overshadowed by the familiar dynamics of his family
He sighed, pushing the thought aside as his mother entered the dining hall. He straightened up, a reassuring smile automatically forming on his face.
"Mom," he said softly, moving towards her. He gently took her arm and guided her to one of the sleek, modern chairs around the glass-topped dining table.
"Sofia is preparing some fresh and healthy food for us. It will be ready in a moment."
He then called out, "Ania? Come join us, food is almost served."
His sister emerged from her bedroom, phone still in hand but her attention momentarily diverted. Just as she settled into a chair, Sofia entered with a tray laden with a colorful assortment of sliced fruits, small bowls of creamy yogurt, and a steaming pot of herbal tea.
"Thank you, Sofia," Lev said, nodding his appreciation.
As they began to eat, the quiet punctuated only by the clinking of cutlery, Lev addressed his mother.
"Mom, this was quite a surprise. You and Ania haven't been to New York in... well, a while. And such short notice. What brought you all the way from San Francisco so suddenly?"
He watched her carefully as she took a sip of tea, her gaze momentarily distant.
"Well, darling," she began, her voice a little hesitant, "your father... he mentioned there was something he wanted to discuss with us. Something rather... important. He was quite insistent that we come as soon as possible."
Lev frowned slightly. His father hadn't mentioned anything specific to him, just the vague "urgent matter". "Important? Did he say what it was about?"
His mother shook her head. "No, just that he needed to speak to us in person"
Lev's unease grew. His father was usually more forthcoming. This secrecy was unusual. "He'll be here later, Mom. Hopefully, he'll explain everything then." He decided not to press further for now, sensing her own apprehension.
"Mom, I need to head into the office now. It's still within my working hours, and there are a few pressing matters I need to attend to.
He paused, then added, "Dad should also be back in a few hours. He said he would come straight here from the hotel once things settle down." He hoped this reassurance would ease some of her worry about Dimitri's absence.
He watched his mother carefully as she took a sip of tea. Her expression was still a little clouded, but she nodded slowly.
"Alright, Lev. You do what you need to do. We'll be here."
Ania, meanwhile, was already back to scrolling on her phone, occasionally reaching for a piece of fruit.
Lev stood up. "I'll be back by seven this evening. If you need anything at all, Sofia is here, and you both have my number. Make yourselves comfortable, and please, try to relax."
He placed a light kiss on his mother's forehead and gave Ania a quick nod before heading towards the elevator, his mind already shifting back to the demands of RusTech, though a small, persistent corner of it held the intriguing image of the woman at JFK.
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LEV'S POV
The sleek, modern elevator of my RusTech office building whisked me silently to the executive floor.
As the doors opened, a few employees in the open-plan office area looked up and offered respectful greetings - "Mr. Petrov," "Good afternoon, sir." I offered curt nods in return, my mind still preoccupied.
I moved towards my private office, and just outside its entrance, Sergei, my ever-efficient secretary, came into view, holding a slim tablet. "Good afternoon, Mr. Petrov."
"Sergei," I acknowledged, my tone businesslike.
"You have a meeting scheduled with representatives from Davies & Co. Spaces in ten minutes, sir. They are waiting in the conference room," Sergei consulted his tablet. "It is currently 3:15 PM."
I paused, a slight frown creasing my brow. I had completely forgotten about the Davies & Co. meeting amidst the morning's unexpected events.
"Right. Davies & Co. Yes. Thank you, Sergei. Please let them know I'll be with them momentarily. And hold all calls unless it's urgent."
"Understood, Mr. Petrov," Sergei replied promptly, already tapping on his tablet to relay the message.
I stepped into his private office, the heavy oak door closing behind him with a soft click. I walked over to the floor-to-ceiling window, gazing out at the urban sprawl. The familiar view usually helped me focus, but today, the questions surrounding my mother's arrival and my father's cryptic message lingered. I briefly considered calling my father again but decided against it, not wanting to seem overly anxious.
I needed to clear my head and focus on the upcoming meeting. Davies & Co. Spaces was a significant potential company, and I couldn't afford to be distracted.
I completely pushed aside everything as immediate demands of his professional and personal life. I took a deep breath, mentally preparing to switch gears and immerse myself in the world of corporate real estate.
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