Page 10 of Tainted Empire

“Mr. Orlov, that’s quite an offer, but I’m not sure I’m ready for something quite so public yet,” I answer honestly. It’s an opportunity to reconnect with a part of myself that I’ve neglected, a chance to step back into the light, into the music that has always been my refuge.

But I don’t know if I’m ready yet.

He nods understandingly, his demeanor gentle. “I completely understand your reservations. But please know, there’s no pressure. It’s merely an open invitation. Should you decide to accept, we will support you every step of the way. Think of it as a celebration of your return to music, on your terms. I’ve seen how Amaranthe’s work speaks to you, and I believe your performance could be a beautiful homage to her.”

Music has always been my refuge, my way of connecting with something larger than myself. And to honor Amaranthe, to connect with her legacy in such a tangible way, feels like an opportunity to not just perform, but to heal.

“I’ll think about it, Mr. Orlov,” I say, a tentative smile forming on my lips. “I’m honored that you’d consider me for such a role.”

His face lights up with a hopeful smile. “Of course, take all the time you need to decide, since it’s only in three months. And whatever your decision, know that you are always welcome here, to explore, to learn, or just to immerse yourself in the world of music.”

The thought of returning to the stage, of sharing my music again, is a daunting yet thrilling prospect. It’s a chance to start anew, to embrace the future while honoring the past – a future where, perhaps, I can find harmony both in my music and in my life.

As I drive back to the safe house, the image of Dimitri and Amaranthe lingers in my mind, a haunting reminder of what was and what could have been.

Chapter 7

Gabriette

Returning to the familiar sights of the safe house brings a sense of comfort, despite the underlying current of my unsettled emotions.

As I step into the kitchen, I find Lee meticulously unpacking dinner from various packages, the delicious aromas from one of her restaurants filling the space.

“Smells amazing,” I comment, moving to help her with the unpacking.

Lee glances up, a small smile on her face. “Thought we could use something nice tonight.”

As Lee and I sit down to eat, the scent of the food fills the kitchen with a welcoming warmth. We serve ourselves, and for a moment, we eat in silence, each lost in our own thoughts. I take a deep breath, savoring the flavors, before broaching the topic that’s been on my mind.

“Mr. Orlov offered me an opportunity today,” I began, breaking the silence.

She looks up, interest piqued. “Oh? What kind of opportunity?”

“He asked if I’d be willing to do a solo performance at the philharmonic’s annual meet,” I explained, playing with the food on my plate. “It’s in three months’ time.”

Lee raises her eyebrows, visibly impressed. “That’s a big deal, Gabi. It’s a prestigious event. What did you say?”

“I haven’t given him an answer yet,” I admit, feeling a mix of excitement and anxiety at the prospect.

We continue eating, and I find myself pondering aloud. “What do you think? Should I do it?”

Lee considers for a moment, then replies, “It could be a great way for you to reconnect with your music, to find some joy after everything that’s been happening.”

I nod, the idea slowly taking root in my mind. “Yeah, maybe you’re right. It might be good for me.”

I pause when I realize how she phrased that, just like Mr Orlov: ‘after everything.’

“Lee, Mr. Orlov has always been kind to me, but I’ve always wondered... What does he know about our world? About the Bratva and everything?”

Lee sets her fork down, her expression turning more serious. “Sebastian Orlov is well-informed, more than most. He’s got connections, but he’s always been neutral, knows when to speak and when to stay silent, but he doesn’t get involved. He’s the Switzerland of the underworld,” she says with a chuckle.

“So he knows who’s who but that’s it? He doesn’t choose a side?”

She nods. “Think of him as a mediator. He has information on a lot of people, information people would kill for, but somehow no one has gone after him,” she says, shrugging. “I suppose that would make him the most powerful man in our circles.”

My eyes actually widened at this. I never thought Mr Orlov could be that important, now it seems I have the Mafia Switzerland on my side.

As we eat, a question that has been burning in the back of my mind surfaces. “How is Mikhail doing?” I ask hesitantly.