Chapter 4
Four
LUKA
A ssholes. All of them.
I watched them dance and drink through the windows. The house was lit up like a damn Christmas tree. My eyes moved from the top floor to the bottom. There wasn’t a dark room in the old mansion. The street was lined with houses like this one. Wrought iron gates. Family crests hung over the entryway, meant to intimidate. Gas lamps flickering with false warmth.
“Luka, you going in?”
I turned when Mikhail Sokolov appeared. I hadn’t thought about who was on the guest list. I took another drag on the cigarette.
“I guess.” I shrugged.
He stood next to me, trying to figure out what I was doing outside when the party was on the other side of the door .
“You kind of have to, don’t you?” I felt my friend’s eyes watching me instead of the house.
I blew a puff of smoke in the air. “Katya would notice if I didn’t show for her engagement party.”
“The in-laws have a nice place.” He straightened the tie on his tuxedo.
I nodded. My sister was engaged to Andrey Petrov. His family owned a steakhouse franchise that was well-established in the southern states. Andrey’s mother’s family was considered to be one of the founding families of New Orleans. My father approved of the match. I knew he had orchestrated it. My sister hadn’t had much say in the arrangement.
“I hope Katya likes it. She’s moving in here.” I snuffed the cigarette under my shoe.
“That’s rough.” Mikhail slid his hands in his pockets. “Married at twenty-one and moving in with her husband’s parents? Even if they do get their own floor, sounds like a shitty way to start a marriage.”
I popped a piece of gum in my mouth. The mint immediately washed out the taste of tobacco.
“I need to get this over with.”
Mikhail slapped me on the back. “They have free booze. It can’t be that bad.”
I chuckled. Free anything didn’t have meaning to me. We climbed the front steps together. The marble gleamed. As the doors swung open, the music from the band blared. Mikhail and I had been friends since we were kids. We grew up in the families. Each of us the firstborn son, poised to take over one day and run the Bratvas in our fathers’ names. Our families were allies. Always a plus.
“Bar’s this way. I’ll be right back.” I lost Mikhail when he disappeared in the crowd.
I strolled past the guests, looking for an easy exit. The fewer the people, the better. That was impossible with this kind of setting.
“Luka, you made it!” Suddenly a blur of white hurdled toward me. It was Katya in a beaded gown. My younger sister wiggled past an older couple and threw herself at my chest.
“This is some party.” I peeled her off me. Her blue eyes flickered. She looked terrified. The way she looked when I had once dared her to touch the drain in the deep end of the pool. She was only five then.
Katya tugged on my elbow, dragging me to an empty hallway.
“What’s going on?” I asked. “Aren’t you having a good time?”
“Are you still smoking?” She scrunched her petite nose. “I can smell it on you.”
I groaned. “I’m not up for a lecture on cigarettes.”
“It’s gross. You should stop. And if Mother knew?—”
I exhaled. “What do you need? Did someone drop a platter of hors d’oeuvres?”
“No,” she snapped. “I don’t care about the stupid food. It’s this. It’s Andrey and his parents. I don’t know if I can go through with this.” She picked at her nails. “It’s too much. This family is crazy. I don’t want to be a part of it.”
“All families are crazy. You think ours is any better?” My hands landed on her shoulders. “What about Andrey? You two seem like a good fit.”
Her long lashes fluttered until her eyes closed. I could tell she was trying not to cry.
“He’s no different than his parents,” she whispered. “Can’t you help me? I don’t want to marry him. Please, Luka. You have to do something. Get me out of this.”
Katya didn’t know about the fight I’d had with our father when he announced the engagement. He was part of the old regime. The old New Orleans that still believed in arranging marriages and brokering deals through offspring.
I sighed. “Sorry, kid. There’s nothing I can do.”
“But you’ll be in charge soon,” she urged. “You’re next in line to run the family. Please.”
I hated that she was begging for her freedom. I hated that she looked to me for salvation. I hated that there wasn’t shit I could do about any of it. Soon was relative. My father was fit and healthy. He walked the golf course twice a week. He played tennis. Swam laps regularly. He wasn’t even sixty. Uncle Ivan’s murder still haunted us, even though it had been weeks ago, His killers had to be properly punished. It was considered justice. I still considered it a nightmare I couldn’t escape.
I rubbed my jaw. “Try to make the most of it. You can spend Andrey’s parent’s steak fortune. That could be fun. Take your friends on a trip. Buy a new horse.” She was an avid rider.
Her eyes welled with tears. “I don’t want their fucking steak money.”
“Katya, just hang in there.” I didn’t know what else to say. Should I tell her I had already threatened our father? That I pinned him to the desk in his office and hovered my fist inches from his nose. Did I tell her there was enough rage in my body to beat him until his nose fractured and his skull cracked? Was that the kind of thing that would help at her engagement party to a man she didn’t love?
She leaned against the wall and quickly unsnapped a silver clutch. She began to retouch her red lipstick. “You’ll get to marry who you want. You know that?” I heard the accusatory tone. The resentment. The anger my little sister had bottled up in her voice.
“Who said I’m interested in getting married?” I dated. I fucked. I didn’t fall in love. It wasn’t in the cards for me. It wasn’t safe for anyone.
She dabbed the corners of her eyes to remove the smudged mascara before she snapped the clutch shut.
“We’ll talk later. Your guests are waiting.” I nudged her to re-enter the party. “It’s going to work out,” I lied.
She plastered a wide smile on her face. “Is this better?” She spun on her five-inch heels and stormed out of the hallway.
By the time I shook enough hands to make it to a spot on the terrace, Mikhail was on his second drink.
“What happened to you?” he asked.
“I got cornered a few times,” I explained, taking the bourbon from him.
It was quieter outside. The bass from the band vibrated, but at least I could hear myself think. My eyes traveled the distance of the yard. The fence that bordered the property felt like a zoo enclosure. We were New Orleans’s most exotic mafia families confined in one space. The Petrovs had installed a pool, along with a cabana house.
I glanced over my shoulder. I saw my mother parting the crowd and headed for the terrace.
“I’ll be back,” I explained to Mikhail, as I hopped over the stone railing and strolled toward the cabana.
There were floating candles in the pool as well as some kind of exotic flower. I knew Katya hadn’t chosen a single element of the party. It was all Mrs. Petrov.
I shoved my hands in my pockets and kept walking. I made it to the pool house. I slung back the bourbon and left the glass on a table. I opened the door and closed it behind me.
I didn’t expect the sudden scream when I stepped inside.
My hands rose in the air. “Hey, just another party guest. Didn’t mean to scare you.” There was probably a couple in here fucking. But as my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I realized there was only one person here.
One beautiful, alluring scared person.
“Sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t think anyone else would come out here. It seemed deserted.”
She stepped out from behind a stack of pool furniture. I almost staggered. I was caught off guard. She had the body of a goddess, dressed in a tight black cocktail dress. Curves. Long slender legs. Elegant features I swore I’d only witnessed in paintings. There was something familiar about her. I tried to place her in my memory. Had we met before?
“I’m Luka Novikov.” I extended my hand.
She smiled. “Amara Martin. ”
Her hand fit in mine like a glove. Soft. Warm. Tender. I wanted to thread my fingers through hers and pull her closer. Close enough to study her eyes. What color were they? It was too damn dark in here.
I heard a tiny gasp escape her lips. “Wait, you’re?—"
The door immediately flew open.
“Miss Amato?” A broad-shouldered man hurried next to Amara. His expression was serious as he discovered she was no longer alone. I dropped Amara’s hand.
I realized he had brandished a gun, and it was only a few feet from my chest.
“What the hell are you doing with that?” I glared at him. “Put it down. This is a weapons-free event.”
“Not for security,” he argued.
“I see.” I nodded. “Detail for Ms. Amato?”
Amara groaned. “Ciro, I’m fine. Put the gun away. Now .”
The bodyguard was reluctant to return the weapon to its holster.
“I insist.” I nodded at him. “I don’t think the Petrovs would be happy if gunshots ruined their party. They take offense to those kinds of rules being broken.”
The bodyguard checked the safety, before tucking the gun under his jacket.
“Thank you.” I waited for him to leave, but he remained next to us. “That’s all.” I pointed to the door.
Still nothing .
“You can go, Ciro. I’m fine. Just chatting with a new friend.” Amara smiled. Now that the door was open and an outside light shone through, I thought I caught glimpses of emeralds in her eyes. Fuck. She was breathtaking. Light pink lips. High cheekbones. Her hair was swept off her shoulders and fasted in a rhinestone clip. It was honey blond with streaks of auburn.
Her bodyguard didn’t want to leave her. It could have been the black dress she wore. No man would want to walk away from her.
“I’ll be outside. Not far,” he added. He ducked on his way out. He was a damn giant.
“Sorry about that. He’s only following orders,” she apologized.
She didn’t have to explain to me how it worked. We had brought no less than ten men with us.
“You were saying something when we were interrupted,” I nudged her. By now I knew where I had seen her. I wondered if she remembered.
Her eyes darted to the floor. “Only that I’ve seen you before.” I swore I saw her cheeks sweep with blush.
“Have you?” I teased. “And where would that have been?”
She lifted her eyes to me, surprised and maybe even a little hurt. “I must have mistaken you for someone else,” she said.
I chuckled. “No, you didn’t. I remember. Bourbon Street. Although I had a view from above.”
She twisted her lips together. “You did remember. Trying to torture it out of me?”
“Ouch. Merely having a little fun. ”
I had wondered who the girl was that night. I certainly never thought I’d see her again. A beautiful stranger, separated from her group on vacation. I had convinced myself that was who she was. I’d be lying if I hadn’t seen her face the last few nights when I’d fallen asleep.
“Why are you out here by yourself?” I asked. “Not having a good time at the party?”
“It’s a long story.” She sighed.
I walked to the wet bar. “I like long stories.” It was a hell of a lie. I barely had the patience to read texts. But if this girl had something to say, I wanted to hear it.
I rummaged through the liquor cabinet and revealed a bottle of vodka. “Drink?” I offered.
Amara nodded. “Yes, please.”
I poured one for each of us and sat on the edge of the chaise, allowing room for her body to slide next to mine.
“Are you friends with the Petrovs?” I asked. When she sat, the hem of the black dress rose along the tops of her thighs. I wondered if she was the kind of girl who ran miles with a personal trainer to have a body like that. Or was she naturally a knockout.
She shook her head. “No. Or yes? I’m not sure.”
I chuckled. “What does that mean?”
She blushed, pressing the glass to her lips. Fuck. They were full and lush. “It means I moved to New Orleans a few weeks ago. I don’t know anyone. I’ve met a few people, so I guess that’s not entirely true, but not anyone here. My father isn’t feeling well tonight, or he would have been here. I’m representing the family. Those are the instructions he gave. ‘Amara, you must represent the family name,’” she mimicked her father with a decent baritone voice.
“Ahh. A new family in the area? Interesting.”
“Is it that unusual?”
“This is New Orleans. Everything is unusual.”
She laughed. It was light and airy. For a second, it opened something in my chest. Her laughter pried apart something I thought was sealed with darkness. The last few weeks since Ivan’s murder had been a metamorphosis. Not the kind where I emerged shiny and new. No, I was wrapped in dark blues, blacks, and greys. An ugliness dealing with the repercussions of having the family under attack.
“What about you? Bride or groom?” she questioned. “Which side brings you to the party?”
I was glad Amara gave me a break from the sinister side of life for a few minutes.
“Bride,” I answered. “The bride’s brother, actually.”
“Then, I should ask you why you’re in here and not at the party with your family. I have a good excuse. I’m hiding from strangers. You’re hiding from everyone you know.”
I could see Ciro’s silhouette through the blinds. Every few seconds, he looked over his shoulder to stare through the window.
“Hiding? I don’t hide.” I took another swallow of vodka. I stared in her eyes. For a second, I thought I stumbled into an abyss. I didn’t know where it could take me, and I didn’t care. I wanted to keep falling and see where I landed. I wanted a reminder I was still human somewhere beneath my skin .
“Will your sister be upset you’re in here?” she asked.
“Yes,” I admitted. “Very.” If there was one person who needed me tonight, it was Katya. But I couldn’t fight the wolves who surrounded her. She was lost to me. Lost to herself. Things would be different when I ran the family. But the original families couldn’t handle a revolution now.
“You should probably go then.” She licked her lips after another sip. “I don’t want to keep you from your family.”
“Another minute.” I leaned closer. I wanted to steal minutes. I’d take seconds if that’s what I could grab. “Does Ciro go everywhere you go?” I asked.
She nodded. “Everywhere. Well, for the last two weeks, he has. He’s my keeper. An unwelcome addition to my days and nights.”
“Did something happen?” I smelled her shampoo. I inhaled the lotion off her neck. The proximity made me drunker than mixing liquors.
“Not a security threat. It’s my fault. Just something stupid I did.”
My eyebrows rose. “What was that?”
The way she looked at me made the world shift. I’d have believed there was a fucking earthquake if someone told me there was seismic activity in New Orleans.
“The worst sin of them all. I embarrassed my father.” Her gaze darted across the room. I saw the shadow too. I jumped back.
It wasn’t Ciro barging in this time.
“Mother.” I rose from the chaise. She held the train of her gown in her right hand. It draped over her wrist in cascades of rich designer fabric. It was likely she had paid thousands for the dress. It would end up in a heap at the back of her closet and never worn again.
“What are you doing out here?” She wasn’t looking at me. However, she noticed Amara with a deep suspicious glare.
Amara stood quietly, taking the brunt of my mother’s scowl.
“Having a drink. Welcoming a new resident to town.” I grinned. “Have you met Lorenzo Amato’s daughter?” I introduced my mother to Amara. “They’ve only been in the city a few weeks. We’re getting to know each other.”
“No. I haven’t.” Her chin jerked upward.
“Amara, this is my mother, Anna Novikov, the one and only queen of New Orleans.” My mother had a love-hate relationship with the title.
“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Novikov. Congratulations on your daughter’s wedding.”
There was tension. Pressure. They immediately disliked each other.
“Amato? Is that Italian,” Mother asked.
Amara nodded. Shit. An Italian mafia family did not bode well with the Russian mafia. In some cities, they worked well together. New York, for instance, but here in New Orleans we didn’t like to share our piece of the underground world with anyone.
“Hmm. We’re about to toast your sister and Andrey. You’re needed in the house. With your family. The Petrovs have been asking about you, Luka. Come. ”
“Of course.” I extended my arm toward Amara. “Shall we? I don’t want you to miss my father’s toast. He’s known for oratorical masterpieces.” I winked and saw Amara cover her mouth to hide her laughter. I was pleased she wasn’t intimidated. The girl was impressive.
Ciro followed us across the lawn and into the party. His attention on us was as lethal as my mother’s.
I didn’t care. Suddenly, my night had gotten a lot more interesting.