The Score (21 page)

“You should have come to my husband. If you had told him the truth, he would have helped you. We might not be law-abiding citizens, but we take care of our family when they take care of us. You didn’t do any of that, Natalie. Instead, you very nearly ruined my life. You took my lover from me. You took my son’s father from him. How dare you?”

“Pl-please …”

“Don’t beg me,” Viviana hissed. “A smart woman—a worthy woman—would never beg for anything. But since you’re obviously neither of those things, it shouldn’t surprise me.”

When Natalie stayed silent, but for her tears and occasional sniffling, Viviana sighed. She was so tired. Exhausted from the time, from her anxiety, and her troubles. An ache had started to settle somewhere deep inside. She no longer wanted to be in front of this woman. Talking more seemed useless, like wasting her time and breath.

“You don’t matter,” Viviana said with quiet conviction. “You didn’t matter to my husband when you were trying to catch his eye. You didn’t matter to me, as I never thought you were a threat. Hell, even the feds overlooked you in the end. What a stupid, awful girl you are. I want to feel badly for you, but I can’t.”

“Vine,” Ivan said from the corner. By the tone of his voice, it wasn’t meant as a warning, or even a question. Just an acknowledgement.

Not one of the other six men in the room had spoken since Viviana’s arrival. They allowed her to do as she pleased. She was grateful, but now she was done.

Viviana released her hold on Natalie and stood. “One more thing, Natalie.”

The girl wouldn’t meet Viviana’s gaze. “What?”

“Did you fuck my husband the night you drugged him?”

Natalie sucked in a ragged breath, pink coloring her cheeks. Throats cleared around the room, surprise lighting up the noise as they stilled in their respective positions, all waiting for the possible answer. Of course some of the men knew Viviana would ask, but maybe they hadn’t expected her to be so blatant or crass about it.

She wasn’t one to pretty a damned thing up.

“I thought—”

“I don’t want your nonsense,” Viviana snapped hatefully. “Just tell me the goddamned truth. Either you fucked him, or you didn’t.”

“I didn’t.”

This time, it was Viviana’s turn to freeze in her shock. Something surged into her throat—her heart, likely. “No?”

“He can’t remember, then?” When Viviana didn’t respond, Natalie smirked bitterly, turning her face down. “No, we didn’t, but certainly not because I didn’t
try
. Unlike most men, I understand the word
no
.”

Viviana refused to react to that. None of the rest was important. She had the one answer to the only thing she had needed for so long.

“Ivan?” Viviana asked under her breath.

“Yeah?”

“Make it fast.”

Outside of the office in the upstairs hallway, Viviana found herself grasping tight to the metal banister overlooking the dancing people like it was her only lifeline. Over and over, her breathing hitched, sometimes stopping completely. Wildly, her heart beat out of control.

Relieved. My God, the relief was as painful as it was good.

She heard nothing as last call was shouted out. She thought nothing as the bass was turned up louder on the floor below, pounding beats into the wide open space. She tasted nothing as her own tears finally fought their way out, creating rivulet lines down to her lips.

Behind her, a woman was set to die if she hadn’t already.

For Natalie, Viviana felt nothing.

But for Anton, and for herself, she felt everything.

Ivan had been right. The reaction she felt now wasn’t any different.

She still cried. She still broke.

Chapter Eighteen

“This man is allowed the expectation of a fair and
speedy
trial, sir,” the judge said firmly. “I have read the investigators' reports regarding the witness’s disappearance, and while it was sudden and suspicious, there was absolutely no sign of foul play. This is your third request for a stay. Already, Mr. Avdonin has spent a month and a half waiting for his trial to continue while remaining in prison. I’d say he’s waited enough.”

“Exactly,” Ivan muttered under his breath.

The judge shot Anton’s lawyer a look that silenced him. “I’m not suggesting he’s innocent.”

Anton wisely chose to stay quiet during the entire exchange. Between Ivan, the Assistant District Attorney, and the judge, they had the arguing thing handled. He didn’t need to get in on it, by any means. It probably wouldn’t help his case if he did. He was just lucky he was allowed out of Rikers to be a part of the meeting between everyone.

“Well you can’t suggest my client is guilty for anything when there’s nothing to say he caused Natalie’s disappearance, either. Phone recordings from the prison show nothing. I’m sure they’ve got their snitches inside working the angles, but nobody’s speaking. You said it yourself, Judge, the investigators found zip.” Ivan shook his head, leaning back in his chair with a cool disregard for the attorney sitting next to him glaring daggers. “The reality is simple: my client did nothing in regards to that missing woman, and without her lies, their case is falling apart at the seams.”

“My case is—”

“Enough,” the judge interrupted sharply.

“Your case is crap,” Ivan said, ignoring the judge’s warning. “DNA on cigarettes my client doesn’t even smoke that isn’t completely conclusive. Witnesses that say they believe it was my client near the restaurant where the Belovs were found dead. Even your motive is shaky! What an intelligent attorney would do right about now is request for the charges to be dropped because they know they can’t win. Then, maybe when they had something more concrete, they’d come back to it. But, you’re not smart, are you?”

Anton snorted under his breath, suddenly interested in the white crescents on his fingernails. Ivan was one hell of a lawyer. Not only was he condescending, but he was patronizing as fuck. In the courtroom, he was as professional as any attorney could be, but outside, he chewed up the prosecution verbally every chance he got. The fact of the matter was simple, the A.D.A. was nothing more than a young, upstart attorney looking for his first big win.

There was no way on earth that win would come from Anton.

“What about the possibility of a deal?” the attorney asked.

Ivan barked a laugh. “For
what
? My client is innocent.”

“And I’m God.”

“All right, I’ve had enough of this damned nonsense in my chambers,” the judge said. “My decision is final. You’re stay is refused. The trial will resume Monday morning at nine.”

“Anton?” Ivan asked, turning to look at his friend.

Anton shrugged. “Works for me. I’d like to get home to my pregnant wife as soon as possible.”

The A.D.A. scowled while the judge flinched. Anton was more curious over the judge’s reaction.

What was that all about?

“Before we finish,” the A.D.A began.

Frustrated, the judge turned his angry gaze on the man. “What?”

“I’d really like to have the video tapes of Natalie Berezin’s interviews with the federal agents accepted into evidence. They’re as good as an official statement. She was sworn—”

“Absolutely not!” Ivan shouted.

“Mr. Lavrov, be quiet.”

Anton’s fingernails weren’t so interesting anymore and there was no way in hell he could stay silent. “That woman was not my mistress, let alone my lover. I don’t have lovers, and I’d like for you to find even one woman on this goddamned earth and bring her to court to stand in front of my wife and say we had a sexual relationship while I was married. So you can say she was sworn in, and that it’s official all you want, but there’s no way for my lawyer to challenge the lies she told.”

“That’s what you deny in her deposition? The depth of your relationship?” the A.D.A asked, shocked.

“That’s what I know she told and what I know is a lie,” Anton retorted hotly. “Whatever else she said I told is beyond my knowledge and memories.”

Ivan rested back in his chair, a little smugly. “My client made my argument to have that evidence overturned just fine, I think. What more do I need to say other than he’s right? Without Natalie’s presence, he’s unable to confront his accuser. And if it is allowed in, I will parade friends, family, coworkers, and anyone else I can find through the witness stand to say repeatedly she didn’t have a relationship of any sort with my client that went beyond her position as his employee. If she lied about that, what else did she lie about?”

“She didn’t accuse him,” the A.D.A said, ignoring Ivan’s rant. “She gave witness testimony to his guilt.”

“But it’s the same thing,” Judge Kander said quietly. “Ivan is correct. Miss Berezin is technically accusing the defendant of a crime, or in a way, saying he gave her direct knowledge of his involvement because of their relationship. Consistently, the defendant has rebuffed her claims as falsehoods. Argue the details all you want, the end result will be the same. It’s not allowed in. You should have known better than to try.”

Well, that was the end of that, wasn’t it?

Apparently not.

“However, if you can prove to me the witness’s disappearance was caused because of something the defendant is affiliated with,” the judge continued, shooting Anton a look from the side, “… I’ll allow it in.”

Ivan smiled. “Well, I guess it’s a good thing they won’t find anything, huh?”

***

In the courtroom, only Ivan sat beside Anton at the defendant’s table. At first, the press and media construed that as an unequipped legal team, given the high profile nature of the case and the charges he faced, but Anton knew better. Behind the scenes, Ivan’s entire firm worked on Anton’s case, though they kept quiet about it.

Hours had been spent pouring over the prosecution’s joke of evidence. The best of the best in DNA experts were brought in to examine and rip apart the thirty-five percent match on the cigarette butts found at the Carducci crime scene. Ivan dedicated an entire group of paralegals just to work on reading over case transcripts from similar trials where the defence teams had won. What led to the win, how had they done it, and what could be gained for Anton’s trial.

Oh, Anton had a legal team behind the scenes. No doubt about it. But in the courtroom, it was only Ivan.

For a lawyer who was so convinced his client was going to walk out free of the charges he faced, Ivan didn’t leave a single damned thing to chance. Anton was grateful. It gave him something to ask about during the breaks in proceedings. With his wife at his side, it allowed them conversation that felt hopeful, not tarnished with the fear of prosecution.

As the judge ordered, the trial resumed that following Monday. The prosecution used that entire week of proceedings to finish parading their witnesses and laying their evidence down for the judge to consider. Interestingly enough, their motive and case direction had changed. Without being able to use Natalie’s reasoning for why Anton killed Sonny Carducci and the Belovs, they had little to go on.

Now, it was just greed, they said.

Because Sonny had done Anton wrong. Well, that wasn’t a total lie.

Because the Belovs stepped into his mafia’s territory. Well, that wasn’t exactly a lie, either.

Unfortunately for the prosecution, everything about their case had holes that needed filled, now. They might have had the reasons, but they didn’t have the whys or the hows of it all. Instead of focusing on the holes, they attempted to dance around them.

When the prosecution finally rested on that first Friday of September, Ivan took his chance to zone in on every hole and misconception, every little inconsistency the other side refused to acknowledge, and he opened it up.

He opened it up wide.

The degraded DNA on the cigarettes was an easy enough thing to argue with an expert specialist brought in to explain the actual statistics of the match’s probability. At thirty-five percent with the amount of Russian heritage in New York, he told the court, there could have easily been another few hundred or more men in the state who owned that sample. To pin it down to just Anton, and say it could only be his, was laughable and unrealistic.

Reasonable doubt.

Anton lived for those two words. They were, essentially, what held his freedom.

Suddenly, Anton was made aware that public opinion was beginning to change. Even though he didn’t have access to see the legal shows or read the papers covering his trial, mostly because he didn’t want to, Ivan and Viviana kept him well enough informed about it all.

The question was asked, was he guilty? It was likely. But had the prosecution done their job? That was the more important question. The people didn’t think they had. Anton knew better than anyone it wasn’t the people who decided for him, though. It was only the judge.

Hadn’t Ivan said the man would be partial to them?

Anton still wasn’t quite sure what to make of that

There was a great deal of speculation about whether or not Anton would take the stand on his own behalf. It was a choice Ivan offered to him, and his lawyer was open and honest about the benefits and downsides. Eventually, Anton chose to say no. For one, he had done what they were accusing him of, and for two, neither he nor Ivan wanted to give the prosecution a chance to question him on the many things Anton refused to speak about when they and the federal agents tried before.

However, what Anton never expected, and wasn’t informed about, was that his wife would take the stand. Anton barely held himself back from punching Ivan in the back of the head when he called Viviana as his final witness one week after he began his case. Sitting in his chair, teeth clenched and fists hiding in his lap, Anton practically vibrated in his rage.

“Ivan,” Anton hissed under his breath when his lawyer sat back down at their table. He didn’t let the anger in his tone simper for a second. The damned lawyer wasn’t even standing while Viviana was sworn in. “What in the fuck—”

“Trust me,” Ivan murmured. “Anton, you have to trust me.”

Throughout the trial, Viviana had been Anton’s solid ground. She sat only five feet behind his defence table, close enough for him to turn around and reach out to hold her hand if he wanted, although it wasn’t allowed. Even so, it was close enough that he could smell her sweet rose perfume hinting around the edges of his senses, calming him when something pissed him off. She was close enough to whisper his name and make every nerve in his body react to the sound of her silken voice in a large, hostile room.

Every single day she was there. Without fail.

Now, she was much too far away and in a place Anton never wanted to see her.

Standing in front of a deadly quiet room, Viviana appeared composed and unbothered by the sudden attention of one-hundred or more pairs of eyes all on her. For the most part, she’d always dressed to hide the growth of her pregnancy, but today the knee-length pencil skirt and white blouse showed off her twenty-one week swell beautifully. Add in her delicate hand cradling low along her midsection, and Anton was pretty sure every gaze in the room was trained on the tiny roundness Viviana held.

There was no quake in her composure, no crack in the mask.

And God, she was so painfully fucking beautiful to Anton.

Beating back the rising emotions and worry, Anton rested back into his chair with a shaky breath. Ivan still hadn’t moved from his spot, either, reading over papers in front of him.

Once she was sitting in the witness chair, the eyes of the people around them, were drawn to Viviana’s beautiful face instead of her stomach. Ivan went through the usual round of questions. Her name for the court records. Her relationship and affiliation to Anton. A brief history of their marriage. Ivan even asked a few things about Demyan, and her current pregnancy.

“You are the niece of the deceased Sonny Carducci, correct?” Ivan asked.

Viviana barely glanced up through her lashes as she answered, “Yes.”

“Were you close with your uncle?”

“No.”

“Why was that?”

Viviana cracked a smile, one that left a bitter taste in Anton’s mouth. “It’s hard to be close to a man who wants to kill you.”

A pin could have dropped and it would have echoed.

Ivan tilted his head to the side, sighing. “Your uncle, like your father, was affiliated with the Cosa Nostra, correct?”

“They never openly admitted that in court records,” Viviana replied softly. “So I can’t confirm for sure that they were.”

“But you know what you witnessed growing up,” Ivan prodded. “You know what you heard, and what you’ve been told that are fact.”

For the first time, Viviana tensed. “Yes.”

“And what was that?”

“They were not affiliated, they were it,” she answered.

“The ruling Cosa Nostra family in New York.”