5. The Arrangement
5
THE ARRANGEMENT
RORY
I ndeed, Niko wasn’t playing another one of his cruel tricks…Adrik Kostalov is, in fact, waiting for us in his study.The Russian Kingpin doesn’t even bother looking up from his desk at our arrival.
Niko holds the door open for me, and I shoot him a scathing look as I pass. He returns it with a glare of his own.
And then we wait.
Neither of us bold enough to interrupt the Russian Pakhan’s work.
Dark wood walls surround us. The scent of leather and cigars fills my nose. I’ve only been in this room once, my very first day back in Boston.
I glance longingly up at the beautifully bound leather books that fill the wall behind the grand mahogany desk.
Adrik is the type of man to deal only in rare literature. There are likely many first editions on those shelves. I’ve long since wished to explore his collection, but never dared ask. This study was strictly off limits and to be called in here...
“Have a seat Aurora.” The elder Kostalov finally looks up from the paperwork covering his desk. “Nikolai.” He nods curtly at my brother behind me.
I sink slowly into one of the leather armchairs positioned in front of his desk, doing my best to act like this is normal.
Nothing about my life in the last year has been normal.
Adrik folds his hands in front of him, settling his gaze on me. I fight the urge to shrink back under the weight of his full attention. My father is a powerful man. Far greater men than me have pissed themselves after a single stern glance from Adrik Kostalov.
“Aurora, you look well. Despite a disappointing showing at the rink today…” I clench my jaw and carefully school my face. “Are you feeling well? Still experiencing lasting effects from the concussion?”
“I’m feeling fine Papa,” I say, a little too quickly. “The new meds are working, and I hardly ever need to take them…” My eyes flicker between my brother and my father. Both watching me with the same unreadable, hardened stare. “Today was an off day. Nothing to worry about.” I smile, though it doesn’t touch my eyes.
My father studies me intently. I swallow the lump that’s formed in my throat, not sure what he’s looking for. He leans back in his chair with a sigh, “The attack on you and your mother…” he pauses, unable to go on. A brief flash of grief breaking through his stony expression.
“Have you found out who ordered the attack yet?” I ask softly
Adrik rarely speaks of my mother; the attack that killed her even less. But the question haunts me, keeping me up most nights.
Why her?
There’s no question it was a mafia hit. You don’t just happen across a car bomb placed under your car by accident. She never stood a chance. That day’s images are forever seared into my brain. I wasn’t supposed to be there. It’s never made sense. She had nothing to do with this world. But no one ever claimed responsibility.
“Unfortunately, no,” Adrik shakes his head, regaining his composure. The little balloon of hope deflates inside of me. “Which makes the matter of your safety even more imperative. I called you in here today, Aurora, because it’s time we discuss your future in this family.”
Dread fills me, knowing exactly where he’s going with this. What I’ve known was coming since I set foot in this mansion a year ago; since he cancelled my college plans, citing security concerns , and dragged me back to Boston….
“Okay.” My voice is small and I keep my eyes down.
“Since you’ve been living under an assumed name all these years, your role in this family has mostly gone unnoticed by outsiders.”
I nod solemnly. For safety reasons, or to protect Adrik’s reputation? The Bratva Pakhan has many enemies, many of whom wouldn’t hesitate to take out a vendetta on the Russian Lion’s only daughter.
Using my true name, Aurora Adrikova Kostalova, while powerful, would also be a death sentence.As far as the rest of the world was concerned, I was just Rory Annabelle Collins : Rising Figure Skating Prodigy from Canada.
“Understand, as the daughter of the Pakhan, there are certain—expectations.” Adrik pauses for only a moment, his eyes studying me. “We’ve discussed already…”
We discussed once , and he promised me...
“I hope to present you officially as the daughter of Adrik Kostalov at my birthday party,” he smiles. It’s far worse than his frown.
I bite the inside of my cheek to hold in my scream. The party is only two weeks away. It will be the event of the season—Black tie—All the city’s most influential members would be in attendance.My father knew how to command the underbelly of the city but also flourished and relished in the attention of the upper society.
“You are already nineteen, and nearing a birthday yourself.” I’m surprised he remembers, though my twentieth birthday isn’t exactly ‘coming up.’ It’s still several months away.
Niko shifts from where he leans up against the window a few feet away. He opens his mouth to say something but ultimately decides against it—slamming his jaw shut instead with a click.
“At your age, in our— culture ,” he chooses his words carefully, “A girl of your age would already be married. Or at the very least, engaged.”
I shoot up in my chair, instantly on the defensive. “But you said?—”
My father raises one hand and I fall silent. Fidgeting in my chair, I fight the urge to run screaming from the room.
“I remember what we discussed, Aurora, however…” Adrik’s eyes flicker over to Niko, whose jaw stays cemented shut. My father doesn’t even bother to look apologetic as he continues. “Circumstances have changed. War is brewing within the city and the Bratva—has had its own set of recent setbacks.” His mouth twists with an air of annoyance. “An engagement would more than double your protections. It’s a dangerous time in the city.”
“Then send me back to Canada!” The words burst out of me in frustration and my father has to issue me a warning look. Doing my best to reel it back, I speak up again. “I did everything you asked! I’m on the list for qualifiers. I’ll make it to nationals. I will! Karina?—”
“Yes, but that was before your accident; the concussion. Karina has concerns.” Adrik’s frown deepens, “And from what I saw today at practice, ангел, I have to agree” I look up when he uses his nickname for me, angel . “It might be time to face that your skating career might be over.” He looks at me with pity in his eyes.
“Karina doesn’t know shit!” The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them.
His eyes harden to steel, and I can feel the mental slap against my cheek. “Manners, Aurora,” he scolds, his tone chillingly cold and devoid of any compassion or empathy.
I nod, doing my best to look as contrite as possible. “I apologize Papa, but you assured me as long as I remained competitive, any arrangement would be postponed.”
Adrik rises from behind his desk, coming around to stand in front of it. I slide back in my chair as far as it will allow.
“You sustained a major injury, Aurora. Dr. Jakes says you’re still having the headaches and dizzy spells.”
I look away, unable to contest facts while also adding Dr. Jakes to a list of those not to trust.
“You can’t even land the triple combination!” My father throws his hands up, shaking his head in clear disappointment.
I don’t dare look at Niko. Oh, how he must be loving this. All those years of winning gold medal after gold medal don’t count for anything. If I can’t be a source of pride for my father on the ice, then I’ll be relegated to lining his pockets instead, with money and alliances.
Adrik waves his hand and I track the movement. “It’s no matter. Things change and you are a Kostalova. There are expectations that come along with the luxuries you enjoy so much.”
The urge to scowl at him is almost worth the slap I’m sure I would receive. Almost . The comment just goes to show how little he actually knows me. He doesn’t allow me enough freedom to partake in any of life’s luxuries . Everyday it’s straight to the rink and straight home. That’s it.Prisoners have more freedom than I do.
“An opportunity has presented itself.”
I dart a glance to the side at Niko and he meets my eye, though his face gives nothing away.
“An alliance.” My father puffs out his chest, proud of whatever it is he’s arranged .
I grip the arms of my chair tightly to keep myself from bolting from the study . “But skating?—”
“If it’s important to you, I’m sure your future husband will allow you to continue your athletic pursuits this year. We can add it as a clause to the contract if you’d like.”
I blink at him.
And there it is.
A future husband who will control every move I make. Decide for me. Just like how it is now. My temper flares and my cheeks burn with frustration. Pain emanates from my palm where I’ve curled my nails in, digging deep into the soft skin.
The Bratva is in trouble. I’d been kept far away from the business side of things, but even I can sense it.The war Adrik spoke of earlier was catching like embers between the major players in the city. The Italians, the Irish and the Russians. Each one claimed Boston as their own, but there can only be one king.
It isn’t my war. And I want nothing to do with it.
“If you need an alliance so bad, why don’t you offer Niko up on a silver platter?” I snap, my arm flying toward my brother. The next Bratva heir . “Doesn’t an Italian capo somewhere have some daughters coming of age?”
Niko’s familiar blue eyes, my eyes , flare in response to my outburst. He slowly shakes his head back and forth with a look I know translates into ‘ shut the fuck up.’
My father lets out an exasperated sigh. He runs a hand down his face, letting another outburst slide. “If there were any other option, Aurora, I would take it. But I will not compromise your safety. As long as you remain unclaimed, you are at high risk.”
Unclaimed . Like I’m nothing but a valuable possession ripe for the taking.
“Will I have a say?” I start, and my father’s eyes narrow on me, warning me I’m pushing this too far. “In the suitor ...” I continue, the whole idea so archaic and antiquated. “Will I have a say?” I repeat, demanding to know. One glance between the two Kostalov men gives me my answer.
“You’ve already chosen.” There’s a subtle accusation of betrayal within my tone.
“Yes, Aurora. I have chosen. The contracts are being drawn up for you to marry Matteo Carroza, Consigliere of the Italian Mafia. The right-hand man of Cole DeLuca himself.”
A tense silence fills the room. I know exactly who Cole DeLuca is. The Butcher of Boston . The youngest Italian boss Boston has ever seen. He secured his position with violence and bloodshed after an internal war threatened to do the Outfit in.
And Matteo is his right-hand man. There were no good options but this…
This was the worst one.