Cruel Longing (Novikov Bratva World #2)

Chapter 1

One

AMARA

FIVE YEARS AGO

I t was an odd feeling to be a stranger in my hometown. That’s how everything felt. Odd. Distant. Colorless. Tasteless. As if I was living in a gray snow globe with nothing inside but floating, filmy debris.

A car honked and I jumped. It was the same time Gigi walked into the guest room where I slept.

“Hi, you. You haven’t come downstairs all morning.”

I shrugged. “I did get a cup of coffee.” The empty mug rested on the dresser.

She sat next to me on the window seat. My cousin and I looked nothing alike. My lighter features were in opposition to her olive complexion and dark brunette hair. Gigi had blue eyes like her parents.

“I thought the service was nice,” she added.

I nodded. “Papa would have been pleased so many people attended.” Returning to Philadelphia with my father had been an ordeal and an undertaking I wasn’t prepared for. Not after escaping my kidnapping. I didn’t think I would have survived any of it if it hadn’t been for Ciro.

Only a few weeks ago I considered him a menace to my every waking move, now I couldn’t imagine going anywhere without him. I insisted Ciro stay with me at Gigi’s house despite how he made her children cry. He only had to glance at them and Rocco and Eliza, the twins would scream.

“I’m worried about you, Amara.” Gigi brushed the hair from my shoulder. “Papa wants to talk to you.”

I exhaled. “I guess I’m his problem now.”

“Why would you say that? You’re family. Not a problem. Not a burden. You just lost Uncle Lorenzo. He’s grieving for his brother too.”

Their dreams had ended. The plans. The dynasty Uncle Gio and my father orchestrated was over the moment he took his last breath. The New Orleans arm of the family business would have to be sold. There would be no expansion in Atlanta. The familiar pit in my stomach soured. There was one family rejoicing at my father’s death—the Novikovs. Now they could have their precious hotel. The tunnels that intricately knitted the city’s underbelly together.

They could go back to their old ways. To ruling ruthlessly. To being the reining family. Bratva.

“That necklace you’re wearing is beautiful,” she added. “I noticed you’ve had it on the whole time you’ve been here.”

I absently fingered the pearly and diamond pendant. “Yes.”

“Did Uncle Lorenzo give it to you or something?”

I huffed. “No. It wasn’t him.” I wasn’t in the mood to talk about Luka’s gift. I wasn’t sure if I wore it to torture myself or long for it to bring me comfort. It only did one of those things, and I wore it regardless.

I shuddered. Gigi patted my back. “Maybe we could go to lunch?” she suggested. “Talk some of this through?”

I spotted a man being led down the street by a Great Dane. He had no control over which post or person the dog wanted to sniff.

“What if I got a dog?”

“A dog? All right. It might be good for you to have a companion. Other than Ciro. He really is scaring the twins.”

“Or a cat? Are cats easier than dogs? I’ve never had a pet. Papa wouldn’t allow animals in the house. Never.”

“Then maybe you should have one of each.”

I rotated toward Gigi. I smiled. “Yes. Maybe one of each.” There was a gleam in her eyes I hadn’t seen since I was a child. A glimpse of her rebellious nature. The one that had been suffocated when she was forced to marry Danny.

How often did she get to lean into her true self? Now that she was a mother and wife it seemed her life was dedicated to running their home. Making sure the twins had cupcakes for preschool parties. Instructing the house manager on what meals Danny wanted prepared. Running errands for Danny while he handled Capo business, so he never had a wrinkled shirt or tarnished cufflinks.

“Gigi, would you like to go to lunch?” I realized perhaps she was the one who needed an escape from her house and not me.

“Yes. I would love to spend some time with you.”

I nodded. “All right. Then let’s go.”

C iro was never far. Now that I wasn’t trying to evade his detail, his presence felt comforting. I often glanced toward him to make sure I knew where he was planted. We hadn’t spoken of Joey’s death since my kidnapping. I wondered if he mourned his co-worker. I had no way of knowing.

Gigi chose the restaurant.

“I’m glad we were able to leave the house. It’s been dreary since the funeral.” She reached for her wine glass. “I don’t mean that in a disrespectful way to Uncle Lorenzo, of course.”

“You’re right. It’s been fucking depressing.”

Gigi nearly spat the wine into her lap. “Okay, yes. It’s been fucking depressing,” she whispered.

I took a bite of grilled chicken. The waiter returned to refill our glasses.

“Tell me about New Orleans,” she prodded. “What was it like living there?”

Something about how she mentioned it in the past tense irritated me. It wasn’t as if I had moved back to Philadelphia. My things were still in my room at the compound. The closet full. My favorite blanket on my bed. My mother’s portrait still hung in the hallway outside Papa’s room. I had traveled with Papa to bring him home for his funeral and burial. I hadn’t come to terms that my life in New Orleans was over.

I knew I would have to return to pack up the life I had. A life that no longer existed.

“Nice.” I pushed the chicken around next to the steamed vegetables. “Hot.”

“Hmm. Any guys? Did you date anyone?”

I brought the wine to my lips and gulped. How did I answer that question? Any guys? No. Only one. The one.

“There must have been someone. Wasn’t Uncle Lorenzo trying to find a match for you?”

I tilted my head. “Is that something you recommend?”

Her face went white. “Amara,” she hissed.

“I was there on your wedding day to Danny. I’m just asking if you think our family’s way of marrying us off is still the right way.”

She refolded the napkin in her lap. “I have two beautiful children. I wouldn’t change that for the world.”

I pressed my lips together. “I’m sorry. Rocco and Eliza are great. They really are. I’m not saying they shouldn’t exist. I’m just asking if you had a choice… would you want to make it yourself?”

“That’s not the world we live in. We don’t get to have what we have at no cost.”

“You think that price should be our freedom? Our choice to love?”

Gigi leaned toward me, pressing her forearms into the table. The ruffles on her bodice nearly hit the plate. “I heard there was someone in New Orleans,” she whispered. “Is that why you’re asking me? To get me to ask Papa’s blessing for you?”

I blinked. “What? No. Absolutely not. No.” I shook my head. The reminder that not only had Luka rejected the marriage contract my father had proposed but also had fled across the ocean to get as far away from me as he could was like stabbing me in the lungs all over again.

“Because if you were interested in that guy in New Orleans, Papa would probably be sympathetic to you right now. I can ask.”

“No, Gigi. He’s gone.”

“Oh.” She looked surprised. “I hadn’t heard.”

“New Orleans is a complicated city. It’s not like it is here.”

“What does that mean?” she asked.

It was a good question. Last night I had opened the window in the guest room, but instead of the cicadas I heard cars and the rhythmic beeping of trash trucks. I hit play on my jazz playlist. I wanted to order Moet and search the sky for shooting stars while sucking down a tray of oysters. This morning the coffee had been so bland I could only stomach one cup.

“Did you like it there?” she pressed me to understand.

I glanced across the table. “I loved it.”