5. The First Dinner

I don't quite know where to put my eyes.

They're on my lap, where I'm hoping they'll remain for the rest of the night because I don't want everyone seated around the table to look at my face. I'm sure my cheeks are red because I can feel how hot they are, and shame is probably written all over my face.

I’ve been tied to the chair. The bastard actually did it.

When I refused to come down to dinner, he sent those cronies to grab me and tie me to the damned chair. I didn’t resist because the situation was embarrassing enough as it was. They were already tying me to the chair; what else was I supposed to do?

I’ve been tied down but my hands are free. I’m supposed to be eating the food that’s in front of me but I’m trying to prove a point but I won’t. Anyway, I’m not hungry.

How can I eat when all these terrible things are happening to me?

There are four people seated around the table including Igor. I’m not the only woman here—there’s one seated across from me that they keep calling Anastasia but also ‘tetya’. I have no idea what it means but she snarls at whoever calls her that, so it can’t be a good thing. She appears to be only a few years older than Igor—perhaps three or so—and she’s wearing a black body suit that doesn’t look comfortable. Her hair is cut short and she’s wearing dark eyeliner around her eyes.

Whenever I glance at her, she catches my eye, so I avoid looking at her.

Igor is seated at the head of the table, of course. He’s smoking his cigar while he eats, and barely talks. I don’t look at him at all, except from the corner of my eye. I’m aware that he keeps looking at me and then at my full plate in front of me, and I keep my chin high. He can make me sit here but he can’t make me eat when I don’t want to. And no, I don’t care if that sounds bratty or not.

“If Antonov thinks he’s smart, we’ll show him who’s smarter,” one of the men says. I didn’t catch his name yet but he looks like them, so I’m assuming he’s a part of their family. His hair is cropped short and he’s not dressed in a suit like Igor, but he has to be related to him.

He adds, “We can’t let that fool get away with this.”

“Leo,” Anastasia says in exasperation, “how many times do we have to tell you that you can’t talk about business when we’re at the table? I can’t enjoy my meal without having to think about what happens outside this place?”

“This isn’t business,” he says brusquely. “This is a personal matter. And it’s personal because he made it personal.” He then looks at Igor. “You can’t let that bastard vote you out of the council.”

“If he wants to do that, he can do it,” Igor answers calmly. “I’m not going to dispute it. When he needs support and it’s likely that he will, I won’t give him any. The matter is settled.”

Anastasia nods but Leo doesn’t seem happy with that. In fact, he gives Igor a hateful look before shoving more potatoes in his mouth.

They’re silent for a little while after he says this and then someone brings something up and they dive into another discussion/argument again. They keep doing this, and it’s a never-ending cycle. The only one who doesn’t get involved is the last man. He’s seated on Igor’s right and he doesn’t say much, he only eats. He looks less like Igor than Leo, which makes me wonder who he is.

He hasn’t spoken to anyone yet. It’s only the three of them who ever talk.

“Enough!” Anastasia booms, dropping her fork. “I can’t believe you two. You act like a bunch of spoiled brats all the damned time and it’s infuriating!”

“I don’t act like a brat,” Leo argues. “I’m pointing out a fact. Boris is disrespecting all of us and we can’t just let it slide.” He shows his hands and his eyes are wide in bewilderment. “Who does he think he is!?”

“We need him as much as he needs us,” the other man says. It’s the first thing he’s said since I sat here. He glances at me briefly before adding, “He’ll help us with this issue with the Italians. We can’t discard that fact.”

War. That’s what they’re talking about. I keep my eyes low as a knot forms in my throat. They’re really going through with this. It’s not some kind of practical joke or something.

This man actually thinks I’m going to marry him and that my family and the others will let it happen. He’s prepared to go to war for this.

My only question is why.

Why is he doing this? I’ve wondered this a hundred times. There’s no plausible reason why someone would want to start a war, not unless they benefited from it in some way.

And what could be benefited?

Leo groans and rolls his eyes. He reminds me of a tempestuous child. “We don’t need him to end this. We can do it ourselves.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Anastasia points out. “You’ve been with us from the beginning and you’ve learnt nothing.”

He inches closer to her and narrows his eyes. She doesn’t appear to be fazed. She only stares back at him with disinterest. He says, “I know we need to assert dominance now or we’ll lose it. Igor, do you really want him to be in charge? What do you gain from that?”

“What will we gain from fighting back?”

Leo sits back in his chair and sighs heavily. I realize I’m staring too much because we make eye contact before I quickly avert my gaze. I don’t understand much of what’s happening here but it seems to me like Leo doesn’t like this idea at all.

He proves this by saying, “I don’t see the point in this. We’re putting ourselves through an unnecessary hassle because of this.”

“It’s not your say,” she says dismissively.

“It is if I could die because of this,” he shoots back.

“So leave,” Igor says coldly. “Why don’t you go on and find yourself a new family who will do all your bidding and where you’ll be in command of everything?”

There’s only silence after he says this. I’m afraid of looking up. I just keep staring at my lap as I wonder when this is going to end so I can hide in the room and get away from all of them.

“We’ve all made a mutual decision, three against one,” Igor says, bringing his cigar up to his lips. “There’s no going back now.”

“And we don’t discuss these matters on the table,” Anastasia says. I feel her eyes on me for a moment. “Especially in front of guests.”

“She’s not a guest,” Igor says quickly, which makes me blush because I didn’t want this kind of attention from them. “She’ll soon be a part of this family.”

Leo scoffs at this. “For a future relative, she’s a little too cold.” He leans forward and I glare at him from across the table. “And unappreciative. We did you a favor. You don’t have to sit there looking sour about it.”

“Leo,” the other man says in a chiding tone.

“What?” Leo asks, ignoring him completely. “Do you think you’re too good for us? Is that why you won’t eat? Is that why you have to be tied to a chair in order to be around us?”

I don’t answer him. I won’t entertain him by engaging in this with him. My silence only makes him smile wider. I decide that I don’t like him. I don’t like any of them.

I want to go home. I don’t want to be in this place.

“You think they’re so much better than us?” he asks, then chuckles. “You just weren’t tied to a table, that’s all.”

“Leo,” Igor says from the other end of the table. “That’s enough.”

He nods at Igor and sits back in his chair but his eyes don’t leave my face. I want to cry but only because I’m so irritated. I feel so hopeless and helpless. I don’t want to be in this place and tied to this chair. I don’t want anything to do with them.

“Clara,” Igor says in the same tone he used to scold Leo. “You’re expected to eat at my table. No food goes to waste here.”

I close my eyes and think ‘fuck you’. I wish I could say it. I wish I wasn’t so afraid of what would happen to me. I wish I could say I didn’t care. But I do, and I’m terrified.

He leans forward. “Did you hear what I said?”

“Is she mute?” Leo asks Anastasia. There’s a chuckle in his voice. “Did you get yourself a mute little wife, Igor?”

My face is getting hotter and hotter. I feel like I’m going to explode. I hear my heart beating in my ears and a scream is forming in my throat. Leo laughs and my anger only increases.

“Clara,” Igor says from the other side of the table. “You will speak when you’re spoken to and you will look at me when—”

“I’ll do no such thing!” I yell. “You pretentious asshole. Do you think you can uproot me from my home and bring me here to this shithole to serve as your pretty, obedient little wife?”

“She called herself pretty,” Leo murmurs under his breath. “Who’s being pretentious now?”

“I won’t do a damned thing you ask me to,” I say loudly, ignoring him. “So, don’t bother wasting your time.”

And with that, I stay quiet for the rest of dinner along with everyone else.

The look he gives me is enough to scare the living hell out of me but I remind myself that if I allow myself to show fear, my life here will be a lot worse.