41
“W hat did you think of Laney?”
Alessandra looked up from her menu to meet her husband's eyes across the table. As planned, they were having lunch atTsar, one of the two Bratva-owned restaurants.
“She's nice. I like her.”
Laney had been very polite; attentive even.
The men however—some of them, anyway—had given her unfriendly looks as they left the meeting after nearly two hours of being holed up in that office.
Although she wouldn't admit it to Roman, their open dislike had left Alessandra feeling vulnerable again.
It brought back memories of her kidnapping and the fear she'd felt then at the hands of similarly disgruntled men.
She wondered why Roman had even decided to bring her along, seeing that his men were still reticent at best about their marriage. Even though it didn't make much sense to her, she had decided not to question him about it .
Their waitress appeared with two cups that she procured from a silver tray and placed in front of them. “Your coffee.”
Roman gave her a brief nod. “Thank you, Lenka.”
“The appetizers should be ready in a few minutes.”
As the woman took her leave, Alessandra followed her retreating silhouette.
As she did so, her eyes caught on the many portraits of Russian monarchs adorning the walls.
The restaurant had a very traditional feel to it with its imperial theme and lively colors.
The red-framed chairs with uniquely woven upholstery drew the most attention, although the richly ornate wallpaper and the golden details framing the ceiling were also notable.
Roman had called it Russian kitsch. Alessandra thought it was lovely.
“I love this place. It feels so warm and cozy.”
Roman gave her a smile over the rim of his coffee cup. The delicate, blue-and-gold porcelain cup looked significantly smaller in his hand. “I'm glad you think so.”
While he took his coffee black, Alessandra reached for the matching sugar bowl and added two cubes to her cappuccino. “Speaking of Laney, would you mind if I got involved at the clubs? With the events, I mean. I think she could use a hand between handling both clubs.”
If he was surprised by her request, he didn't show it. He sipped on his scalding drink thoughtfully. “Is that what you want?”
She gave a small shrug. Spending time at the clubs meant running into the same men that couldn't stand the sight of her. It was inevitable. But she couldn't take another few months of doing nothing.
Besides, Vladik and Vladimir were going to be there, so logically, she knew nothing would happen to her. Roman trusted them to protect her, and if she were being honest, she'd mostly grown used to their shadows following her wherever she went.
“It’s only for a few hours on the weekends, and I need something to keep me busy until I start college.”
“I'll talk to Laney.”
“Thanks,” Alessandra said, relieved that he was so quick to agree to it. In light of recent events, she had expected him to be more reticent about her request. She took a drink before changing the subject. “Any news on your father?”
“Nothing's changed.”
Vitaly had survived those critical twenty-four hours post-surgery, but the doctors still couldn’t say when he would be out of his artificially-induced coma. They didn’t even want to consider it until his brain healed completely.
“I never asked, but… what happens now?”
“What do you mean?”
She lowered her voice. “I mean, with the… organization .”
Although she kind of knew the answer to that already, part of her feared what becoming the boss would bring for Roman. She imagined such a transition couldn't be easy in the best of circumstances, and the situation her husband found himself in was far from ideal.
“I have to lead it.”
“Is it that easy?”
The hint of a smile touched his lips. “No. It’s not.”
“So, did you officially take over?”
“In a way, yes. But I still need to prove myself and avenge Vitaly's attack.”
Alessandra looked down at the empty plate in front of her as she mulled over his words. “Do you still think my father did it?”
“I never said I did.”
“You implied it.”
When he didn’t reply, she shifted her gaze to meet his. He looked like he was considering how much he wanted to share with her. “We think it was the Armenian Clan.”
“Is that why you met up with Matty?”
Up until that point, Alessandra had managed to keep herself from asking him about his late-night meeting with her brother.
She'd heard only part of their conversation and even that hadn't helped with the scenarios her mind conjured up whenever she thought about it.
If anything, knowingsomedetails only served to fire up her imagination.
Roman offered a simple answer that didn't completely satisfy her curiosity. “Yes.”
She toyed with the cloth napkin beside her plate. “I'm glad my father is not a suspect anymore.”
She was fishing for more information, and they both knew it.
“I still don't trust him by any means.”
“I get that.”
“Do you?”
At the challenge in his voice, she felt her brows pull together. “Do I, what?”
“If I decided that your fatherdidpose a threat to me and the Bratva, and I had to do something about it. Would you understand then?”
Something uncomfortable settled in her chest, making her shift in her chair. “What are you asking me?”
“What I just did. It's a yes or no question, milaya . If Nero Rossetti betrayed me, would I have your support to do whatever was necessary?”
Alessandra’s frown deepened. She'd never considered it. At least not in the way Roman was putting it.
“You know I trust you,” she said more quietly, fingers tightening on the white cloth.
“That's not what I'm asking.”
Her father was one thing, but the thought of Roman hurting Matteo in any way twisted her stomach into a tight knot. She didn't think she would be able to handle it, if it ever came to that.
Lenka chose that moment to return with their appetizers.
Roman averted his gaze to the plates being set in front of them. Although he kept his expression neutral, she could sense his displeasure at her lack of a straightforward answer.
When they were alone again, Alessandra reached across the table and touched his hand, dragging his attention back to her.
“I'm sorry. That wasn’t the answer you were expecting. It's not even about my father, Roman. But I don’t know how I would react if it ever got to the point of you hurting Matty.” She traced the side of his pointer finger with her thumb.
“What I mean is that, yeah, I do trust you. And if you ever had to go against my family, I can only hope to be strong enough to handle it with a clear head.”
After a beat, Roman gave his head a small shake. “I'm being selfish. It's not fair to ask you this shit.” He let out a sigh. “Sorry, it's been a weird fucking day. ”
She gave his hand one last squeeze before pulling hers back. She decided to end that conversation there. “Food looks good.”
“Yeah,” he agreed. “Let's eat.”
???
It was early the next day when Alessandra received an unexpected call from her father. Abandoning her cereal bowl, she picked up the phone and stared at the lit screen. From across the kitchen island, she noticed Vladik watch her attentively, but she ignored him.
Her thumb hovered over the answer icon, and she hoped that if she delayed the inevitable for long enough, he’d change his mind about wanting to talk to her.
She had half a mind to let the call go to voicemail, but then the rational part of her brain won.
If Nero Rossetti had something to say to her, he would do it no matter how long she avoided him.
The line barely connected before Nero spoke, his voice a low hiss.“Why didn't you tell me?”
Alessandra stilled, her heartbeats picking up pace at how angry he sounded. “Tell you what?”
“About Vitaly Leskov being shot.”
“I didn't think—”
“That's the problem; you don't think ,” he spat.
Hearing the venom in his voice, a void formed in her gut, sucking in every ounce of calmness she had left in her body.
Anxiety made her stomach churn uncomfortably.
The man wasfuming. And worse, she knew that when he got in such a state, there was no reasoning with him.
She'd learned early on that it was better to let him vent, regardless of how hurtful the words leaving his mouth during one of his rants.
But these were different times, and Alessandra was no longer under his care. Forcing composure into her voice, she said, “How is it my fault that you didn't find out? I thought Roman might’ve called you.”
Playing dumb seemed to be the best option. If only he knew he’d been the prime suspect until not long ago. Or maybe he did know, and that was what made him so agitated.
Nero was quiet for a moment. When he spoke again, he sounded like he was struggling with the words. That, or he was struggling not to shout at her. “He did. A week later. Do you know why that is?”
“I don't,” she lied.
“Alessandra… I need you to keep your eyes and ears wide open. I need you to tell me things. I cannot stress enough how important that is.”
“Sure.”
Something in her voice made him pause again. Maybe it was the dismissive way she’d said it.“Do I have to remind you the Russians are not our friends?”
And there it was—her chance to twist the knife in the wound. For once, she wasn't going to pass up the opportunity to give him a taste of his own medicine. “That may be true, but he’s still my husband—the one you chose for me.”
“Your loyalty lies with your family,”he gritted through clenched teeth.
“Roman is my family.”
Alessandra braced for the worst. She expected him to yell at her. Call her names. Threaten to disown her.
However, his only reply was a quiet, “I see.”
It sounded like a threat .
Swallowing thickly, Alessandra looked up and met Vladik’s dark gaze. “Is there anything else?”
“Take care, figlia mia .”
The call disconnected.
Alessandra let out a shaky breath.
She didn’t fear her father. At least, not like before. But those final words before he hung up rubbed her the wrong way. They hadn’t been said with the natural concern of a loving parent but with maliciousness and the promise of punishment for her disobedience.