Chapter 15 Miko
MIKO
The sun is barely sneaking over the window sill’s ledge when I wake, Anika’s slumbering perfection tucked snuggly against my chest.
Her cheek rests on my shoulder, her cornsilk hair tickling my neck, and I want nothing more than to spend the day in this nice warm bed with her.
But I have a revenge plot to plan, and my brothers don’t like waiting.
Pressing a soft line of kisses along the top of my wife’s bare shoulder, I rouse her just enough to make her shift.
Then I carefully ease my arm out from under her so I can roll off the bed. She gives the softest huff of protest, like in her sleep, she’s decided I should stay.
But then she tucks her hand beneath her cheek, in place of my arm, and I get a glimpse of her wedding ring, sparkling on her finger.
The deep sense of satisfaction that settles inside me isn’t something I anticipated. I’d never really put much thought into whether I wanted a wife or children.
Before our world went to hell, my whole purpose had centered around serving the Chiaroscuro family and keeping Leo safe.
Now, I have someone else I need to protect, and I find my compulsion to ensure Anika’s safety far more impactful than anything I’ve felt before.
Brushing one last soft kiss against the curve of her neck, I turn to go, dressing quickly and quietly before slipping from the room.
I didn’t station a guard outside last night, figuring I would notice if Anika tried to make another break for it.
But after yesterday, I’m more inclined to trust that she won’t try anything again.
Still, when I pass her lady’s maid, I pause. “Chastity,” I say.
The poor girl nearly jumps out of her skin at being addressed, and the blood drains from her face. “Y-yes, sir—ah, Gospodin Chiaroscuro,” she stammers, her shoulders creeping up around her ears as she waits for further instruction.
“Let Anika sleep in as late as she’d like today. Now that we’re married, she’s safe to wander about the house and estate… but if she says anything about leaving the property, inform me immediately. I don’t want her to leave without the proper amount of protection.”
“Yes, sir,” Chastity says with a slight bow, and she keeps her eyes averted, rushing on her way as soon as I excuse her.
Shaking my head, I move on, descending the stairs and finding my brothers in the breakfast room.
“There he is, the great Russian conqueror. How was your wedding night, fratello?” Gio asks, cracking a wide grin.
“You know I don’t kiss and tell,” I growl.
“Bet your glad Father’s not around to weigh in on your choice of bride,” Raf adds, a dry smile curving his lips.
It can’t be easy, watching me get married when he just lost his wife weeks ago—in the attack that started this whole damn conflict.
But I’m glad to see him cracking a joke again, even if it’s a bitter one.
“Come on, Raf, admit it. That was half the reason you wanted Genevieve so badly in the first place,” I tease back.
Raf and Sandro snort in stereo, crossing their arms over their chests at the same time, both effortlessly in sync.
“Maybe at the start,” Raf acknowledges, “but that doesn’t mean I’m any less driven to make those bastards who killed her pay.”
I smirk and pour myself a mug of black coffee before settling at the table. “Good, because we need to discuss what happened yesterday and where we go from here.”
“Well, clearly there’s dissent in what’s left of Pyotr’s clan,” Gio observes dryly. “Nice moves, by the way. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you move that fast.”
I know he’s subtly poking at how quickly I inserted myself between Anika and danger, but I’m not rising to the bait.
In a house full of brothers, I know when to let things slide, and if I get worked up about his teasing over my protective instincts, they’ll never let it go.
“Yeah, enough dissent that they drew blood at a formal event. It was a good call to invite them. I’d say the odds of the Russians becoming a threat are below zero at this point.
If they can’t exist in each other’s presence without turning on one another, they won’t find a leader capable of uniting them again,” Sandro says.
“Maybe it’s not entirely crazy to think you could fill that void, Miko,” Gio says, looking at me pointedly.
“Not this again,” I grouse. “They would never accept me as Pakhan—even if we could use their numbers. I’m Italian—or at least, I work for the Family—not to mention, I’m responsible for putting them in their tumultuous situation.”
“True,” Gio agrees, a wicked grin stretching across his face. “But at this point, it might be their most viable option if the Russians continue infighting like they are—otherwise the Bratva will end up eating itself from the inside out.”
Sandro chuckles, shaking his head. “Pakhan Miko. I can just see it now.”
“Maybe,” Raf agrees, his eyes gleaming with sharp intellect. “But I heard an interesting rumor during the cocktail hour that might change all that.”
“What’s that?” I ask, intrigued.
“Well, supposedly, there’s some long-lost Novikov heir. Pyotr’s captains sounded like they would unite behind him—if anyone knew where to find him.” Raf takes a sip of his coffee, keeping his mug clasped between his hands as he lowers it back to the table.
“It was just a rumor,” Sandro counters, “and if no one can find this heir—which hasn’t happened in the time since it’s gone public—I doubt the Russians will be able to recover.”
Raf shrugs, but something in the light behind his eyes tells me this is a detail we shouldn’t ignore.
And if I trust any of my brothers when it comes to strategic maneuvers, it’s Raf. “It might not hurt to look into it,” he says casually. “And kill the heir if he exists, before he can unite them.”
I nod, a faint sense of foreboding flickering to life in my gut that warns me not to ignore this.
But before I can give the directive to put my younger brothers on the trail of this missing heir, something catches my attention from the corner of my eye.
Through the window of the breakfast room, I spot two figures strolling along the gravel pathway of the garden.
My heart skips a beat to see Anika walking freely about the grounds, her posture relaxed as she pushes the wheelchair of a white-haired, wizened old woman.
Anika’s smiling, the expression striking on her beautiful face.
I think it’s the first time I’ve ever seen her happy enough to do so, and it makes me agonizingly curious to know who the old woman is and what they’re talking about.
“Will you excuse me for a moment?” I ask, my voice distracted as I rise from my chair.
And despite my brothers’ protests and shouted questions, I leave without another word, keeping my eyes fixed on the sight outside the window for as long as I can.