Chapter 55
BELLA
Brunch at the Barinov’s
The wind catches the hem of my coat as we climb the limestone steps, that crisp autumn bite teasing my skin.
Rust-colored leaves scatter under Lex’s boots beside me, crunching like whispers.
The trees along the iron gate blaze in orange and gold, like even nature knew it had to dress up for Irina Barinov.
Holy hell, this house. Massive, yeah, but not the cold, concrete palace I expected from a Bratva queen. It’s all warm stone and curved archways, tall black-framed windows gleaming against the sunlight. Everything is symmetrical, precise, too perfect and beautiful to be accidental.
Ellie picked my outfit. She said I needed to look fall-chic but terrifyingly expensive.
So here I am in a cinnamon-brown fitted midi dress, belted tight at the waist, tall suede boots, and a maroon coat that swishes behind me like I own the runway.
My hair’s curled into glossy waves, my earrings are tiny gold daggers, and my nerves are about to explode.
What was supposed to be a calm brunch with the Barinovs somehow snowballed into a full-scale family summit. Barinovs, Whitmores, and me thrown right into the center. While I’m glad to have the Whitmores here for moral support, it all still seems like too much.
Thankfully, Tex is here too. My family. Not that he’s happy about it. I had to talk him into coming—under protest, obviously—but after that last message from Luca, I didn’t want to show up completely unguarded.
I’ve pulled back a little from Uncle Jack and Daddy lately, just enough to create some distance. A few calls, a couple quick check-ins. No more lunches. My gut’s been buzzing and I’ve learned not to ignore it.
We’ve added a few extra security details around them too. Nothing dramatic. Just precaution.
And I know Luca’s probably just being his usual creepy self. Probably bluffing. Probably nothing. But if it’s not. If he’s more than some cyber-stalker with a bad poetry habit then I’d much rather feel paranoid than sorry.
I wanted them here today, I really did. But until I know more, I’m not risking anything. Especially not for mimosas and finger sandwiches, no matter how damn good they probably are.
We barely make it past the front doors and into the towering foyer before Tex stops beside me. “Bella, can I talk to you for a second?”
I pause mid-step and glance up at Lex. “Give me a minute,” I tell him gently.
He leans down and brushes a kiss against my forehead. “I’ll be right inside, baby.”
I smile and turn to Tex. “What is it?”
He doesn’t answer right away. His jaw’s locked, eyes scanning the hallway like the walls might close in on us. “We shouldn’t be here.”
“What do you mean?”
“Just trust me, Bella. You and I”—he points between us—“should not be inside the Barinov estate.”
Something in his tone slices right through me. “What are you not telling me, Tex?”
His nostrils flare. “Drop it. Let’s just go.” He reaches out like he’s going to take my arm and pull me with him, but I step back, yanking away from his grip.
“Tex, it’s just brunch,” I snap. “What’s the worst thing that could happen?” I don’t give him time to answer. I link my arm through his and start walking. He stiffens beside me but follows, tension radiating off him in waves.
We turn into the grand living room, high ceilings, gold trim, and oil paintings that are probably older than the country. The instant we cross the threshold, everything halts. A champagne glass slips from someone’s hand and shatters against the marble.
“James?”
I follow the sound to the far side of the room and there she is. Irina Barinov. Lex’s mother. Bratva Queen. Tall. Elegant. Lethal.
She’s wearing tailored ivory trousers that fall perfectly over pointed nude heels and a pale blue silk blouse tucked in.
Her white-blonde hair is swept into a polished twist, not a strand out of place.
Everything about her is expensive and terrifyingly beautiful, like fall in Manhattan with a gun in its purse.
And… she’s staring at Tex like she just saw a ghost.
I blink at him. “Tex, why did she just call you James?”
He still doesn’t look at me. No answer. Just a muscle ticking in his jaw.
I don’t even realize that Lex has moved until I feel him beside me, one hand resting lightly on the small of my back.
Irina tears her gaze from Tex—James?—and looks at me. Dead in the eyes. Something flashes behind her ice-blue eyes, shock, calculation. Recognition?
She looks back at Tex like they’re having an entire conversation I can’t hear. A silent war written in stares and unsaid things.
“Hello, Irina,” Tex says.
“Okay. Someone better start talking. Tex, how the fuck do you know my mom?”
“It’s been a long time,” he says quietly to Irina, ignoring Lex completely. His voice sounds different. Lower. Rougher.
Her chin lifts, spine straightening like a blade. “It has,” she says and then points toward me. “And do you want to explain this to me?”
I turn toward Tex, eyes searching his face, but he still won’t look at me. His focus is locked on her. Like I don’t even exist.
“Tex,” I whisper.
Nothing.
Irina steps forward. “Is this… Is this her?”
“What the fuck are you two talking about?” Lex growls beside me. “Mom, this is Bella. Mine and Cade’s girlfriend.”
Irina turns back to me, really looks at me, and I swear something breaks behind her perfect icy expression.
“Izzy?” she breathes.
My jaw drops. “Okay, seriously, would one of you like to tell me what the hell is happening right now?”
“Scandalous,” Ellie mumbles under her breath.
Savannah sighs, gently smacks her arm, and whispers, “Darling, not now.”
Lex’s hand tightens on my waist.
Tex finally turns to face me. “There was a reason I didn’t want to bring you here.”
I throw my arms out. “Would someone please just tell me who the fuck Izzy is and why you all keep staring at me like I’m about to sprout wings and float through the ceiling?”
Irina takes a slow step toward me. I instinctively back up, pressing into Lex’s chest. His hand slides to my hip, steadying me, but even he feels tense. Like he’s bracing for a bomb.
Irina doesn’t stop. Her heels click softly on the polished floor, her silk blouse catching the light as she narrows the space between us. Her gaze is locked on my face like I’m a damn puzzle she’s been trying to solve for decades.
She lifts a hand to my hair, brushing it behind my ear as her voice softens. “You look just like her.”
“Like who?” I ask.
“Your mother.”
My knees almost give out. “You knew my mother?”
Irina nods slowly. “Yes. I knew your mother. Izzy was my best friend in the entire world.”
“Izzy?”
Her lips press into a bittersweet smile. “Isabella,” she says softly. “You were named after her.”
My heart stumbles.
Then the expression on her face hardens like ice snapping beneath the weight of fury. She turns fast on Tex.
“And you,” her voice turns lethal. “You told me you lost her.” She steps in closer and gets straight into his face. “You told me she was gone. That you couldn’t find her. That every search was a dead fucking end.”
Her voice cuts like a blade, her hand shaking as she points toward me. “Which I can see now was a complete lie.”
My stomach drops. The SUVs at the funeral. The constant fear from Mama. The whisper-warnings about staying hidden from someone.
My pulse races. “Tex?”
He doesn’t meet my eyes. Just runs a hand down his face like he already knows he’s been caught.
“What is she talking about?” I press. “What does she mean you lost me?”
“Bella…” he starts, but Irina slices right through.
“Your mother,” she says, eyes blazing, “was everything to me. We ruled The Revenants together before that name meant what it does now. She was like a sister. Fierce. Wild. Brilliant.”
Irina’s voice drops lower, more bitter. “She danced at The Obsidian. Before she knew what it really was. Before she understood who Roman Russo really was.”
I glance at her. “The club owner?”
Irina’s gaze hardens, the chill of it cutting through the air. “He’s a monster,” she says evenly. “Head of the Italian Mafia here in New York. Owns The Obsidian, buried beneath his luxury hotel, NOX.”
She pauses, almost savoring the word. “And below that lies his kingdom. The casino. His sick little playground where he and his Italian brutes convince themselves they own this city.”
She takes in a deep breath.
“We all went to school together,” she says finally, her voice quieter now. “Daniel. Roman. Me. Izzy.”
The name falls like a confession.
“He always had a thing for her,” Irina continues, a faint ache threading through her words. “Hired her to dance at his club. And she… she loved him. God, she loved him.”
For a heartbeat, she closes her eyes—just once, like the memory still cuts deep. “But he was already promised to an heiress back in Rome,” she says, the warmth fading from her tone. “Old money. Old power. A marriage that would fortify the Russo empire.”
Irina exhales slowly. “And when your mother found out she was pregnant with his child…”
Her voice falters.
“She ran,” she whispers. “Left me a note saying she was sorry. That she had to disappear before Roman could get to her. That she was terrified he’d take you from her.”
Her voice finally cracks. “She died in that hospital giving birth to you.”
No one moves. No one breathes.
“I sent James,” she whispers, nodding toward Tex, “to find you. To bring you back to me. To raise you. To keep you safe from that monster.”
She looks at me and then at Lex, who hasn’t moved an inch from my side. And then back to me. “You were supposed to be mine to protect.”
I turn to Tex slowly. My voice is barely audible. “Is that true?”
He finally looks at me. “I found you when you were three,” he says, his tone low and heavy. “You were at a Razorback game with Henry and Jack. I watched you from a few rows back. You were laughing, wearing this cheerleading outfit and dancing like the world had never hurt you.”
His voice thickens. “You were happy, Bells.”