Claimed Bratva Virgin (Yezhov Bratva #4)

Chapter 19 – Rafayel

When Leonora had said her father was sick, I didn’t expect the results to literally be close to the grave. He was sick as fuck. No wonder he needed his daughter to run things.

Enzo’s eyes were tired and dull, and the hazel in them was not as vibrant. Olive skin was now pale ash with wrinkles, making him look years older than he was, and the vigorous and brutal feared man I’d clashed with once was nothing but a shell now.

But dealing with his daughter taught me not to underestimate anyone, not even a walking corpse.

His lapdog, Marco, pinned sharp eyes on me while he wheeled Enzo’s chair around the table and stood by his side. Marco didn’t trust me; Enzo sure as hell didn’t either. I might have as well brought them into the open as an easy target for a gunman. But that was not why we were here.

Enzo started speaking but stopped short when he began coughing and wheezing like an off-tune bagpipe. It was harsh and disastrous. Half-heartedly, I expected the old man to slump like a sack of potatoes.

Marco handed him a glass of water and leaned back, massaging the tattoo on his neck. Judging by the frown on his face, I knew we were thinking the same thing.

“I got your invite,” Enzo resumed hoarsely. “But I don’t understand the reason for my presence here.”

“I didn’t understand why either when I got mine. Until she walked through those same doors you wheeled through with a proposal for an alliance.”

Enzo’s dull eyes flickered with confusion, and I opened my arms, gesturing with a plastic smile. “Welcome to Bella Italia, Enzo Colombo. The place where you officially launched the plan to fuck and screw me over. I know about your plan with Rossi. Clever. Could’ve almost fooled me.”

He grunted something Italian under his breath and dragged his hands down his face. “Now you have a heart? You fucking care about being fucked and screwed over? Quit the bullshit, Yezhov. This is the cycle: fucking kill or be killed. And we both know I didn’t do anything you wouldn’t have done.”

“And that, I’m well accustomed to. But you’re a fucking snake for taking the route you did. And I deal with snakes the way they ought to be dealt with.”

Marco’s brows drew closer, and I saw his hand hover over his belt.

“Don’t even think about it, spokesman. Before you lift a finger, you’d have bullets feeding your brain.”

I faced Enzo. Kudos to the man for not being phased in the slightest. “I didn’t invite you here to grieve. As a matter of fact, I have an announcement to make: Leonora will be staying with me now.”

Enzo’s eyes flashed with anger after he tried to put the pieces together. “Did you fucking kidnap my daughter?”

“Hmm, let me see.” I played with the Cartier on my wrist, then looked up. “I might have. Or I might have just fucking killed her when I had the chance if I didn’t find out that your daughter is about to become the mother of my child. So, no, I didn’t fucking kidnap your daughter. I fucked her.”

My triumphant smile was enough to make Enzo run mad if he didn’t get a grip. His silence spoke volumes, and I almost laughed at the absurdity when his nose scrunched and chin wobbled. The great Italian Don, the man who could strike fear into anyone with a glance, sat there as if the life had been knocked out of him.

Nothing could be worse for the old man than hearing the news of his Italian daughter getting screwed and knocked up by a Russian—specifically, by me. The man’s hate for me ran deeper than the bloodlines he swore to destroy.

And now he was faced with the one thing his power couldn’t undo—his precious daughter carrying my child.

The irony tasted sweeter than the finest vodka. I watched the conflict play across his face—rage, disgust, and a flicker of helplessness. And I relished every second of it.

"End your alliance with Rossi. This is not a negotiation, Enzo. It’s a fucking warning. If you insist on keeping Luca at your side, I will bring both of you down and won’t lose sleep over it.”

His jaw tightened, and I caught the flicker of rebellion in his eyes. But before he could utter a word, I cut him off.

"The reason I brought you here, take it that I’m only showing you this sliver of mercy because of Leonora. The thought of her in distress during her pregnancy.... Well, even I have my limits. But don’t mistake my leniency for weakness.”

Before I left, I placed the pictures in front of the table, letting him take in every detail.

There they were—Luca and some woman, smiling at each other, standing at an altar in Italy. The images had been carefully selected, proof of what I had uncovered. A little digging, a few well-placed questions, and I’d learned that Luca Rossi had a wife. Something Enzo clearly hadn’t known.

I watched the surprise hit him like a punch. I could see it in his eyes, the shock and more confusion.

Enzo hadn’t expected this, hadn’t known that the man who’d been so eager to marry his daughter and form an alliance was already bound to someone else. His expression twisted with anger, and I allowed the silence to stretch between us.

"You have a choice, Enzo. Make the right one, or I will ensure you both regret it."

I turned around and started to walk away.

“Rafayel. Wait.”

My head snapped quickly to be certain that it was Enzo who called me and not someone else. The mask of rebellion was gone, and what remained was regret.

He looked older, much sicker.

And when he looked up, his hands were shaking and cheeks trembling. “Whatever you do, please don’t hurt my daughter.”

He was a sorry sight. Pathetic. Couldn’t even do the damn deal right for the sake of the daughter he claimed he loved. But who was I to judge? It was the first time I’d witnessed his weakness first-hand.

No man walking the face of the Earth, ally or rival, could deny Enzo Colombo as a good parent. He fucking loved his children more than life itself and could off a man for daring to look at them the wrong way. It didn’t matter how much money was involved; he was ready to go to any length for them.

While I headed to my car, it made me think.

I had never imagined myself in this position, not in a thousand years, to have the weight of impending fatherhood pressed on me. I didn’t fancy myself a good person, or have a good heart, or any of that weakness Enzo displayed a moment ago. But these things were needed to raise a child, were they not?

I didn’t know. My father wasn’t the best bloody example. His techniques were the absolute worst, and I hated the bastard too much anyway. I could ask my brother. I didn’t know how he navigated through, but he had.

If it were up to me, my entire lineage would be screwed. A child was on the way, and I damn well wasn’t prepared.