29. Nikolai
29
NIKOLAI
I step off the jet onto Italian soil, my jaw clenched tight enough to crack teeth. The Tuscan sun beats down as my team falls behind me, each man hand-picked for this operation.
“The hotel’s secured?” I ask Erik as we stride toward the waiting vehicles.
“Top floor, full sweep completed an hour ago. Clear sight lines to Mario’s estate.”
I nod, sliding into the black Mercedes.
“Alexi has their security patterns?”
“Four shifts, rotating every six hours. Heavy presence at all entry points.” Dmitri hands me a tablet with detailed schematics.
The drive through Florence’s narrow streets sets my teeth on edge. Every minute feels like an eternity, knowing she’s so close. I immediately head to the window overlooking Mario’s estate when we arrive at the hotel. Through binoculars, I scan the grounds, counting guards and noting positions.
“She’s in there.” I lower the binoculars, my voice hard. “Somewhere behind those walls, that old bastard is trying to turn her against me.”
“We could go in now,” Erik suggests. “Hit them before they expect it.”
“No.” I trace the estate’s perimeter with my finger on the window. “We wait until dark. I want complete control of the situation when we take her back.”
The team unpacks our gear with practiced efficiency. Weapons, tactical equipment, communication devices—everything we need to breach a fortress. I check my watch. There are six hours until sunset.
“Mario will regret ever touching her.” My reflection in the window shows a dangerous glint in my eyes. “Set up surveillance. I want eyes on every entrance. No one goes in or out without us knowing.”
“Sir.” One of my men bursts through the door. “You need to see this.”
He grabs the remote and switches on the massive television mounted on the wall. The screen flickers to life, showing a press conference outside the Castellano estate. My blood runs cold as I see Mario standing at a podium, cameras flashing.
“Today marks a historic moment for the Castellano family,” Mario’s voice carries through the speakers. “After years of separation, my granddaughter Sofia has returned home.”
The remote creaks in my grip. Behind me, I hear Dmitri curse in Russian.
“It gives me great pleasure to announce Sofia as the official heir to the Castellano empire. Her father’s condition has made this decision necessary, and we believe she possesses all the qualities needed to lead our family into the future.”
Cameras pan to Sofia standing beside him. She’s wearing a tailored cream suit, her hair swept up elegantly. But I know her face, the slight tension around her eyes, and how her fingers clench at her sides. She’s uncomfortable.
“This is a calculated move,” Alexi says from his laptop. “He’s making it public to ensure she can’t disappear again. Any action we take now will be highly visible.”
I watch Mario place his hand on Sofia’s shoulder, presenting her as a prized possession. “The Castellano name will continue through her, stronger than ever.”
“Fuck.” I slam my fist against the wall. This changes everything. A simple extraction is no longer possible because Mario’s just put her in the spotlight. Every news outlet in Italy will be watching her now.
“He’s smarter than we gave him credit for,” Dmitri observes quietly.
I turn from the screen, unable to watch anymore.
I sink into a chair, my eyes fixed again on Sofia’s face on the screen. She holds herself, trying to appear confident, but I can see the subtle signs of strain around her eyes. My chest aches with a physical pain I’ve never experienced before.
“ Malishka ,” I whisper, reaching out to touch her image on the screen. The truth detonates in my chest—this is love. Raw, consuming, dangerous love. Not possession. Not control. Something far more lethal.
My hands shake as I watch Mario parade her around like a prize mare. She’s drawn into ancient feuds, complex alliances, centuries of blood debts, and honor codes that make even the Russian bratva look straightforward. The Italian crime families operate on tradition and vendettas that go back generations.
“They’re positioning her as a pawn,” Dmitri says behind me, but I barely hear him.
I can only focus on the slight tremor in Sofia’s hand as she waves to the cameras, the way she swallows hard when Mario mentions her father’s condition. She’s alone in there, surrounded by strangers who claim to be family, being manipulated into a role she never asked for.
Sofia gives the cameras a practiced smile. It’s not her real smile that usually lights up her whole face when she talks about art. This is the polite gallery owner smile she uses with difficult clients. Knowing she’s forcing herself through this charade makes my heart constrict to see it now.
“I love her,” I say aloud for the first time, tasting the foreign words on my tongue. “And I’ve lost her to this circus of Italian politics and family obligations.”
Dmitri laughs, a rare sound that draws my attention from the screen. “No shit, we all know you love her. She’s got you wrapped around your little finger.”
I whip around to face him, ready to deny it, but the knowing look in his eyes stops me. My brothers are watching me with varying degrees of amusement.
“The great Nikolai Ivanov,” Alexi smirks from behind his laptop. “Brought low by a gallery owner who doesn’t even know her heritage.”
“Shut up,” I growl, but there’s no real heat. They’re right, and we all know it.
Erik sets down his weapon. “You’ve been different since you met her. More human.”
“The way you watch her,” Dmitri adds. “Like she’s some priceless painting you can’t look away from.”
I run my hands through my hair, frustrated by their accuracy. “She makes me forget everything else. When I’m with her, the organization, our enemies, even my own rules—they all fade away.”
“That’s called love, brother.” Dmitri claps my shoulder. “And it’s about damn time you experienced it.”
“She’s making me weak,” I admit.
“No.” Erik’s voice is firm. “She makes you stronger. Because now you have something worth fighting for beyond duty and power.”
The truth of his words hits me hard. Every decision I’ve made since meeting Sofia has been colored by thoughts of her safety and happiness. Even my rage at Mario isn’t just about possession but about protecting her from being forced into a life she didn’t choose.
“You should see your face when you talk about her,” Alexi chuckles. “Like a lovesick teenager.”
I grab the nearest object, which happens to be a pen, and throw it at his head. He dodges, laughing harder.
The laughter dies down as Dmitri’s expression shifts to something more serious. He moves closer, lowering his voice despite us being alone.
“We’ll get her back, Kolya. Whatever it takes.”
“The Castellanos won’t know what hit them,” Alexi adds, his fingers flying over his screen. “Their security may be good, but I’m better.”
Erik checks his weapons with practiced efficiency. “Just say the word, brother. My team is ready.”
I look at each of them in turn. My brothers are my most trusted allies. The weight of their loyalty settles over me like a familiar coat.
“This isn’t just another operation,” I warn them. “Mario’s made it public now. One wrong move could start a war with our families.”
“Then we’ll be smart about it.” Dmitri’s voice carries the cold calculation I recognize from our most dangerous ventures. “We have contacts in Italy. Resources. Ways to apply pressure without leaving fingerprints.”
“Sofia’s worth it,” Erik states simply, meeting my eyes. “She makes you happy. That’s enough for us.”
Alexi glances up from his screen. “Plus, she’s actually interesting. Not like those vapid social climbers who usually throw themselves at you.”
“We protect our own,” Dmitri says firmly. “And whether she knows it or not, Sofia’s family now.”
Their words pierce through my doubt and fear, replacing it with steel determination. My brothers have my back, as they always have. We’ve faced worse odds and come out stronger.
“Thank you,” I say quietly, knowing they understand the depth of meaning in those simple words.