PROLOGUE
Twenty Years Ago
“Ivan Sergeyevich Stepanov! Let go of that chandelier!” bellows Nanny Katya. “Right now!”
“It’s not his fault,” says eight-year-old Sofia, wringing her hands with worry. “Mikhail put him up to it.”
“Ignore her, Ivan!” says Mikhail, the oldest Stepanov child, cupping his hands around his mouth as he yells up at Ivan. “Keep swinging! You’re doing grand!”
Grinning at his big brother, little Ivan pumps his small legs and swings back and forth one last time for good measure, barely missing a crash into the opposite wall before letting his fingers slip from the cold brass of the chandelier. He falls six feet from the still-swinging light fixture to the hotel’s king-sized bed, landing poof! on the fluffy duvet with a gale of giggles.
“Well done, little brother!” praises Mikhail, rushing to the bed to high-five the little daredevil.
Ten-year-old twins, Galina and Nina, clap their approval from the foot of the bed just as the door to the suite swings open with a whoosh. Instant silence settles over the room, as the five children turn their gazes to the furious face of Irina Danilovna Stepanova.
“What in the world is going on in here?”
“Oh, Irina Danilovna!” says Nanny Katya, shooting a furious look at her charges. “I can explain…”
“Mama!” Sofia runs to her mother with a wail. “Mikhail dared Ivan to swing from the chandelier. It wasn’t his fault!”
Irina turns chilly, narrowed eyes to her stepson. “Is this true, Mikhail?”
The oldest of the Stepanov children shrugs at his stepmother. “So what if I did?”
“So, I will tell your father. And he will smack that smirk off your face.”
Mikhail’s set-in-stone grin doesn’t waver. He knows, as do all of the children, that this is an empty threat. Their father, Sergei, would sooner cut off his hand than lay it in anger on one of his beloved children. While ruthless in the boardroom, he is indulgent and tender with his offspring.
“Not bloody likely,” mutters the defiant twelve-year-old.
With a huff, the Stepanov family matriarch puts her hands on her hips and crosses the room to check on her youngest child. “Are you hurt, my little love?”
“Nyet,” says Ivan, reaching for his mother.
“My precious,” she hums, as he rests his dark head on her shoulder. He has a small, heart-shaped birthmark on the side of his neck, and she traces it with her fingertip before pressing her lips to it. “Моё сердце.” My heart.
With four-year-old Ivan in her arms and Sofia still clutching her around the waist, Irina turns to her three stepchildren, who stand at the foot of the bed with Nanny Katya behind them.
There are two nannies in the Stepanov family—Nanny Svetlana, who looks after Irina’s two children, and Nanny Katya, who looks after the three children from Sergei’s first marriage. Because Nanny Svetlana had caught a nasty bug en route to the United States, she is out of commission. This leaves young, inexperienced, Nanny Katya in charge of the five unruly Stepanov children, an unenviable position for any solo adult, no matter how adept her caregiving skills.
“Nanny Svetlana is still sick,” says Irina with a hint of disgust. “I expected all of you to be on your best behavior for Nanny Katya, and what do I find? A very bad boy making mischief!”
Mikhail’s eyes narrow at this comment, which is clearly directed at him, not her own precious Ivan. “I wasn’t the one swinging from the ceiling.”
“No,” says Irina, a sharp edge to her voice. “You were the one who talked him into it.” She tsks softly. “He could have been injured. You should be ashamed of yourself.”
Mikhail doesn’t respond to his stepmother’s censure, though a fierce and boiling hate flares in his eyes as he stares back at her.
“Nanny Katya,” says Irina, turning her cold, unforgiving gaze to the flustered babysitter. “Are you unable to do your job? Do I need to cancel my lunch date with the ambassador’s wife?”
Nanny Katya takes a deep breath as she places a warning hand on Mikhail’s shoulder. “No, Irina Danilovna. I can handle them. I—I promise.” Promises or not, her voice lacks conviction.
When the five Stepanov children are together, they are a handful at best and impossible to manage at worst. Still, as the “secondary” nanny of the children from Sergei’s first marriage, Nanny Katya is anxious to ingratiate herself to Mrs. Irina. Proving that she can manage all five children at once would be a good start.
“All evidence to the contrary,” mutters Irina.
“I—I had to go to the lavatory,” says Nanny Katya, stepping forward, anxious to absolve herself. “I was only out of the room for a moment when—”
“I’m not interested in the details of your toilette,” says Irina, with a dismissive wave of her elegant hand. “I cannot tolerate this level of carelessness. I was led to believe that you were a top-notch nanny, but I can see that—”
“Irina Danilovna,” says Nanny Katya, her voice urgent. “I will not let it happen again. I promise you that I am up to the task of watching them.”
“Hm. Very well. If you say so,” says Irina, lowering Ivan to the plush carpet of the expensive hotel room. Little Ivan runs to Mikhail, embracing his brother around the waist and looking up at the older boy with absolute and unreserved adoration.
“I did it, Mikhail! Just like you said!”
“I saw you, squirt,” says Mikhail softly, tousling his younger brother’s hair, though his stormy gray eyes are still fixed with hatred on his stepmother.
Irina lifts her chin. “I will be speaking to your father about this.”
“Good for you,” he bites back.
Irina’s eyes flash with anger before she shifts them to little Ivan, the light of her life, who has turned around to face his mother. He stands with his head pressed against his older brother’s chest, his smile broad and trusting.
“Listen to Nanny Katya?” she reminds him in a gentle voice. “And be a good boy?”
“Da. Yes, Mama,” says Ivan, giving her a smile that melts her heart.
Irina clears her throat as she stands up and rounds the bed, heading for the door that connects her suite to the children’s. As she reaches her room, she pauses, looking at Nanny Katya over her shoulder. “I am off to a luncheon at the embassy, followed by a tour of the Annapolis Ballet Academy. I will return by six o’clock this evening to change and dress for the gala at the Kennedy Center.”
“Very good, madam,” says Nanny Katya with a businesslike nod. “I will have everything under control while you are out. Please don’t worry.”
“This room is stuffy,” notes Irina. “Perhaps the children could use an outing?”
Panic flits over Nanny Katya’s face for a moment, but she quickly recovers. “Yes, of course.”
“The zoo is across the street,” Irina informs her. “Surely they would enjoy a visit?”
“Oh, yes, Nanny Katya!” says Galina.
“Please, Nanny Katya!” adds Nina.
“We love the zoo, Nanny Katya!” gushes Sofia.
Irina smiles indulgently, certain she’s been a great help. “Well, there it is.”
Nanny Katya bobs her head. “Y-Yes. Of course. The zoo.”
“Have a lovely time, darlings,” says Irina, smiling at Sofia first, before lingering for an extra moment on her beloved Ivan. “Just have the loveliest time.”
***
An unexpectedly cold March breeze smacks their faces as they exit the hotel.
Nanny Katya holds Sofia and Ivan’s hands, while Mikhail anchors his two little sisters to his sides by holding theirs. They walk in two neat rows of three to the crosswalk that leads to the zoo entrance.
“I want to see the lions!” says Nina, glancing up at her brother.
“Just make sure you don’t get too close,” he warns with a grin, “or you’ll be their lunch!”
“Will the lions eat us?” Ivan asks Nanny Katya, looking up at her with wide eyes.
“Don’t ask stupid questions, little one. Your brother is only joking,” she answers, her voice clipped and anxious as she pauses at the crosswalk. “Mikhail! Stop! Wait for the light to change!”
They cross the street and walk the half block to the zoo’s entrance, the children bubbling with excitement as Nanny Katya leads them through the open gates.
“We must stay together!” she says, glancing back at her three older charges.
“Can we see the giraffes?” asks Sofia.
“We’ll try to see everything,” says Nanny Katya. “But don’t run off. We’ll do one thing at a time.”
“They have gorillas!” exclaims Galina, pointing to a colorful sign. “Gorillas first!”
“I said lions first,” argues Nina.
“Not giraffes?” asks Sofia, looking up at Nanny Katya, who tightens her grip on the children’s hands.
“I’m with Nina,” says Mikhail. “Lions first.”
“I don’t want lions first!” complains Galina.
“Giraffes?” suggests Sofia.
“Keep your stupid giraffes!” says Galina. “Gorillas are the most fun!”
“Galina, look!” shouts her sister, pointing at a picture window of stuffed animals. “A gift shop!”
The twins wiggle their hands from Mikhail’s grip and rush toward the shop.
“Girls! Stop!”
Nanny Katya starts running toward the shop with Ivan and Sofia in tow.
“Can I go see the lions by myself?” calls Mikhail from behind her. “I’m twelve.”
“No!” yells Nanny Katya. She stops in her tracks and gestures to a green-painted bench on the side of the path. “You stay here with Sofia and Ivan. I’m going to get the girls. And then we’re all going back to the hotel! I don’t know why I agreed to this!”
Mikhail puts his hands on his hips. “That’s not fair! We’re going to see the lions first.”
“No, we are not!” snaps Nanny Katya, picking up Ivan and plopping him on the bench beside his sister. “How am I supposed to watch all five of you? You’re giving me a heart attack! Now sit down with your little brother and sister. I’ll be right back!”
Frowning as she scurries into the shop, Mikhail sits down on the edge of the bench beside Ivan.
“Ну пиздец, приехали,” mutters Mikhail. This is fucked up.
“Пиздец,” copies Ivan.
“That is a very bad word,” says Sofia.
“You’re a goody-two-shoes,” says Mikhail. “Закрой рот.”
Ivan giggles. “Закрой рот.”
“You shut up,” says Sofia to her brothers.
“I came to see the lions, and I’m not leaving until I see them,” announces Mikhail, standing up from the bench. He turns to look at his younger siblings. “I’m going to find them. Tell Nanny Katya where to find me.”
“You shouldn’t leave, Mikhail,” says Sofia, wringing her hands together. “Nanny Katya said we have to wait here for her.”
“She also said we’re going back to the hotel. Is that what you want?”
“No…but—”
“If I go see the lions, she has to come and look for me. See? Then we’ll all get to stay.”
“Lions,” says Ivan, swinging his legs back and forth.
“Rawr!” growls Mikhail, grinning at his little brother.
“Rawr!” answers Ivan, clawing at the air.
“Don’t go,” begs Sofia.
Mikhail rolls his eyes at her. “You’re such a baby! Stop whining. Come and find me, okay?” He saunters off, quickly disappearing into the crowd.
“This isn’t good,” whispers Sofia. “This isn’t okay. We’re supposed to stay together.” She turns to Ivan. “I have to go tell Nanny Katya that Mikhail left. You stay here, okay? Don’t move!”
“Don’t move,” says Ivan, smiling up at his sister.
“Promise? You’ll stay here?”
“Stay here.”
Sofia hops off the bench, then turns back around one last time. “Don’t go look for Mikhail. Wait for me, okay? I mean it, Ivan. I’ll be right back with Nanny Katya and the twins.”
“Rawr!” says Ivan, showing his sister his claws. “I’m a lion.”
Sofia nods at him, then runs into the shop.
All alone, Ivan kneels on the bench, clawing at the air. “Rawr. Rawr. I’m a lion.”
He grins at passers-by, adults and children, grandparents and babies in strollers. Standing up on the bench, he looks over the heads of the tourists, hoping to spy a glimpse of his older brother’s head. In the distance, he sees the picture of a lion, and an arrow pointing to the left.
“Rawr!”
“Are you a lion?”
A woman stands in front of him, her pretty smile an answer to his. He doesn’t understand the language she’s speaking, but the lilt of her voice suggests that she’s asking him a question.
“Rawr,” he growls, pawing at the air and grinning at her.
His eyes slip to the bright yellow string in her hand. Following it up and over her head, he finds a balloon in the shape of a lion’s head. He gasps with delight, pointing at the balloon and giggling with glee.
“My lion balloon?” she asks. “Do you like it?”
“Это лев,” he says, staring at the lion’s cartoonish grin. That is a lion.
“The lions are my favorite,” she says, her voice melodic and sweet.
“Ԉев,” says Ivan, thinking her blue eyes are very pretty, just like Mama’s. “Я тоже лев.” Lion. I am a lion, too.
“Rawr,” she growls, giggling softly and copying the way Ivan claws at the air. Though her eyes remain on Ivan, she whispers to the man beside her, “He’s perfect. Follow my lead.”
Ivan looks over his shoulder at the shop, but there is no sign of Nanny Katya or his three sisters. He looks again at the path leading to the lions. That’s where Mikhail is, and wherever Mikhail is, that’s where Ivan wants to be.
“Rawr,”says the lady, pointing to the lion sign in the distance. She holds out her hand, and Ivan looks at her fingernails, which are shiny and pink, like Mama’s. “Shall we go see them? The lions?”
“Li-on?” asks Ivan, trying out the English word. “Ԉе.”
“Lev must mean lion,” mutters the man.
Ivan looks up at him, but he isn’t pretty like the lady. He has a mustache and small, dark eyes. Like a mouse. Like a rat. But he’d said the magic word in Ivan’s language. Lev. Ԉе.
“Lev!” shouts Ivan with joy, hopping down from the bench. These people understand. They can take him to the lions, to Mikhail.
The woman leans down, offering the balloon to him. “For you, sweetheart.”
Ivan takes it in one hand, letting her hold his free hand as she leads him away from the bench and into the throng of people visiting the zoo.
I’m going to see the lions with my big brother, thinks little Ivan, grinning up at the bright yellow balloon in his hand. Nanny Katya and the girls will come and find us there.
