Chapter 25
TWENTY-FIVE
T he heavy bass booming through my stereo slams into my chest. “Backbone” by Chase stick Lani and Dad in a room together until they have no choice but to make amends.
They’re both as stubborn as each other, so I don’t know how long it’ll take, but I’m anticipating enough time for me to man the fuck up and confront Milo about the police situation.
I fist bump Roman as I enter the apartment, pasting the fakest grin on my face as I turn to my sister. She’s wearing a t-shirt and shorts, not at all appropriate when you’re attempting to make up with our dad. “Get dressed,” I bark at her.
She looks down at her attire, folding her arms in defiance. “I am dressed,” she snaps.
Here we go.
“You think that’s appropriate for lunch with the parents?”
She gawks back at me. “What?” She looks to Roman for support, but he’s already backing away. He knows as much as I do that Dad and Lani need to put all this shit aside.
“Lani,” I huff. “Get dressed.”
“No!” she protests weakly, her voice shaking. “Dad, he…”
“Alanis,” I sigh, stepping towards her. “This is your olive branch. This is your opportunity to talk to Dad and explain your side, and…” I slide a hand through my already messy hair. “Hopefully smooth things over.”
She swallows heavily, blinking back at me.
“Maybe you don’t have to tell him everything,” Roman suggests, coming to stand beside her and wrapping a comforting arm around her shoulder. “Tell him what you’re comfortable telling him.”
There’s a conversation there that I clearly know nothing about. As much as I wish I knew Lani’s reasons for joining the NYPD, I’ve left it entirely up to her. My sister isn’t one to keep her mouth shut at the best of times, so the fact that she’s reluctant to divulge any details means it’s serious enough for me not to push her for answers. She’ll come to me when she’s ready, it’s just a kick in the teeth that Roman knows more than I do.
Clearing my throat, I push that thought aside as I watch the pair exchange glances. Lani cuts me a glare, but accepts defeat, turning on her heel to head to the bathroom.
“You good?” Roman asks me as soon as the bathroom door closes.
Running a hand through my hair, I contemplate how to answer that question. The truth is, I’m not okay. Not really. I haven’t been explicit with my relationship—or whatever you want to call it—with Milo, but I know Roman has picked up on something. I try to cover it up with my anger, but even I know it’s pointless. My friend knows me well enough to recognize when I’m hiding something. Instead of questioning it, though, he keeps silent, probably waiting for me to speak first.
“Yeah,” I lie, because I have no other response to give right now. I’m still trying to decide how to approach this revelation with Milo. Usually, I’d put a gun to his head and make him confess, but Milo has me all kinds of fucked up and somehow, torture isn’t the first thing that comes to mind.
“Vee—”
“I’m not here to talk about that, Ro.”
The grown ass thing to do would be to simply confront Milo about the situation, but even after the phone call with Roman, when Milo reappeared from the bathroom, I couldn’t find the words. I looked into his eyes, trying to search for any signs of deceit, but instead, I found myself ignoring Roman’s words, hoping that he was wrong.
“I know,” he says, rubbing a finger across his bottom lip. “Just saying?—”
“Just leave it.”
After ten minutes, Lani finally reappears in jeans and a tank top, scooping up her leather jacket from the coat rack by the door. She’s making an effort to show her irritation over me dragging her to Brooklyn, but I couldn’t care less. This shit needs to be done with so we can all move forward as a family.
“You do realize that Dad made it clear I’m no longer part of this family, right?” My sister yanks the door of my Mercedes open and I resist the urge to react to the fact she’s taking her anger out on my car.
Dad says a lot of things when he’s pissed, and Lani’s choice to join the NYPD has been the cherry on top of his betrayal sundae. She can’t really blame him for the way he reacted, but then again, they both need to communicate better.
Trust me, the irony isn’t lost on me. Considering the lack of communication I’ve had with Milo over the last two days, I should really learn to take my own advice. The problem is, I can’t bring myself to speak to him.
Right now, I need the distraction because I don’t know how long I can keep up the calm and collected facade.
“In case you forgot, I’m the one leading this family now, not him,” I huff.
Lani’s mouth gapes open as she’s about to buckle herself in, then her eyes soften hopefully as she realizes what I really mean. She might act like it doesn’t bother her to be constantly battling with our father, but I know how much our family means to her deep down. She doesn’t want to be fighting any more than Dad does, but someone has to make the first move. Which is why I’m taking charge of the situation.
“You really think he wants to see me?”
“I don’t know about that,” I smirk. “But I did convince him to hear you out, so… you know… don’t go charging in there like a raging bull.”
Thankfully, it didn’t really take much to convince my dad to hear Lani out, especially with my mom siding with me. He’s a hard ass most of the time, but it comes from a good place. He’s had to work hard to create this life for us, so protecting us is instinctual for him. The only problem is sometimes—like Alanis—he can take it to the extreme.
“Are you calling me a bull?” she gasps in mock surprise, slapping my arm with the back of her hand.
I chuckle in response, shaking my head. “More like a cow,” I tease.
Lani laughs back, and the tension that I’ve sensed has been weighing her down for weeks finally lifts. Lani and I have always had a unique relationship. I’d say that our closeness is because we shared a womb for eight months, but really, I think it’s because we’ve been brought up to look out for one another. She’s not just my sister but my best friend, even if we don’t see eye to eye every now and again. I’d still do anything for her.
Switching the engine on, I cast her a furtive glance. She chews her lip as she averts her gaze outside the window, her expression filled with apprehension.
I drive us through the city, over the Brooklyn Bridge and into familial territory. I won’t deny I’m a little nervous that this plan could totally backfire, but I refuse to let this fallout continue any longer. I’ve already got so much on my plate, and this is just unnecessary drama.
I glance at Lani, but she’s still staring out the window at the passing buildings. She’s trying to hide her obvious worry, but she forgets that I know her too well not to notice what she’s feeling.
“All I’m saying is, dad’s not a bad guy, you know.”
She casts me a pointed look, one that makes me smile. Our whole life has revolved around our dad’s criminal activities.
“Okay, okay!” I concede with a chuckle. “He’s just looking out for you.”
“Yeah?” she sighs, folding her arms. “Well… he’s got a funny way of showing it.”
“I know. We all have our quirks, though.”
Lani doesn’t answer me. Instead, she reaches forward and turns the volume up on the radio. Chase she’s not really the type to expose a weakness. But this is our family, and whether she accepts it or not, Dad feels like what she’s done is a betrayal. The only way forward now is for them to forgive one another. You can’t change the past, but you can pave a future, and the future of this family relies on us both being adults.
“It’s going to be fine,” I say, turning to reassure her.
“I…” she inhales sharply. “I don’t know if I can do it.” She casts her eyes to her feet as I step out of the car. I stalk around to her side, pulling the door open and holding my hand out.
She takes it and I pull her into a hug. It’s rare that we share this kind of affection, but I feel like she needs this right now. For all the teasing and taunting we do to one another, I know when she needs my support. I wholeheartedly support her decision to join the NYPD. It’s her life, after all, and I don’t believe she would ever use it against us. No doubt she has her reasons—ones I haven’t pressed to hear—so I have to trust that she knows what she’s doing.
“You can,” I say with conviction. “And you will, Alanis, because you’re a badass. You don’t realize that the reason you and dad clash is because of how similar you guys are. You’re both stubborn. You both want the best for the family while also wanting the best for yourselves.”
“What do you suggest then, oh wise one?” she snorts, clutching onto me like I’m her lifeline.
“Talk to him like you’d want him to talk to you.”
She looks up at me, brows furrowed, but at least she looks a lot calmer than before. “You prepared to pick up the pieces?” she asks warily.
I shove my hand in her face, pushing her away playfully and laughing. “I’ve got the glue ready.”
Guiding her up the steps, I push through the door first, greeting Mom. She bypasses me like I don’t even exist, wrapping Lani in a big hug.
She visibly melts against Mom, her lips lifting into a smile as Mom tells her how much she’s missed her. It’s quite disarming to see Lani this vulnerable. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her so relieved to be back here, let alone crying about it. It’s one of the few times I’ve seen that my sister really does have a heart.
Slowly, Lani pulls away, and Mom swipes her cheek with her thumb as she sniffs away her emotions.
“Alanis,” a deep voice echoes down the hallway, making us all jolt.
Dad leans against the doorframe to his office, hands in his pockets as he pins his gaze on my sister. He looks like he hasn’t slept in days; his eyes are wrinkled at the corners, his usual scruff along his jaw untamed. He always looks so put together, but his current appearance just proves how much this feud has been bothering him.
“Dad,” Lani rasps, taking a step forward.
His dark eyes crinkle as his mouth curls into a soft smile. It’s not quite a happy one, but I can tell by the way he relaxes his shoulders and glances down at her wrist that he’s willing to concede in this battle.
“I see your brother gave you the watch?” Dad smirks and Lani spins around, cutting me with a glare. Did I forget to mention that it was Dad’s idea?
Oops.
I shrug in response before disappearing into the kitchen, leaving Lani to talk to Dad. The muffled exchange of words disappears as the door to his office closes, and then it’s just silence.
“Thank you for doing this, Vee,” Mom says as she plants a kiss on my cheek. “They really need it.”
I silently agree as I watch her pour out two mugs of coffee. I really hope Dad and Lani make up, otherwise all of this will have been for nothing. Despite their constant arguments, I know they love one another. They clash because of their similarities, not their differences, and like I told Lani before, they both want the best for our family as well as each other. They just have to realize that.
My phone vibrates in my jeans pocket, cutting off my thoughts. When I pull it out, I’m not at all surprised by the name lighting up my screen. I don’t have the capacity to deal with Milo right now, though. I know I’ve ignored his messages all weekend, but I just can’t face the truth. Not yet.
“Why does my son look so forlorn?” Mom hums as she passes me a steaming mug.
“It’s nothing,” I respond, leaning back against the kitchen counter and sipping my drink.
Mom smirks, shaking her head as she perches on a stool by the kitchen island. “You know I’m your mom, Vee. I can tell when you’re lying to me.”
Shit. I exhale loudly. I should know better than to lie to her. She’s a goddamn lawyer who can sense a lie a mile away, especially from her own kid, but I don’t know what to tell her. I can’t even work it out myself.
“It’s—” I throw my head back and sigh. “It’s complicated, Mom.”
“Complicated?” She throws me a look that says she’s not buying it. Nothing can faze her, I know that, but I can’t admit that I’m fucking a guy who isn’t just the enemy, but the ultimate nemesis. How do I tell her that I’m into someone who might just be my downfall?
“Talk to me, sweetheart,” Mom coos. “Whatever it is, you can tell me.”
I peer back at her, our matching green eyes locking. In that one softened look that she gives me, I can feel how much she cares, how much she worries. It can’t be easy for her, knowing her son is following in his father’s footsteps, and that eats away at the guilt I already feel because I know what I’m doing with Milo is wrong.
Keeping it to myself is only going to make things worse. Secrets always have a way of getting out, and I know that when they do, it’s going to cause chaos.
Moving towards my mom, I take a seat next to her. I stare down at the brown liquid in my mug, the steam swirling into the air before disappearing. Damn, I wish my problems could vanish like that.
Mom rests her hand on mine, and when I glance up at her, she nods encouragingly. I take a deep breath, knowing how good it’ll feel to get this shit off my chest. I can’t keep avoiding the issue. I can’t keep ignoring my problems. I have to face them, just like I forced my sister to.
“I don’t know where to start.” I card my fingers through my hair, resting my elbows on the surface.
“How about the beginning?”
“It’s a guy,” I exhale, my voice barely above a whisper. “Someone I shouldn’t go anywhere near.” My muscles start to relax, relief flowing through my veins as I open up to Mom. “I tried to ignore it, Mom. I tried to hate him, but I couldn’t. And now…” My fists clench around the warmth of my mug. “Now, everything is fucked up.”
“Alvaro.” Mom’s voice is soft yet stern, demanding my full attention. She cups my face, looking deeply into my eyes. “There is nothing that can’t be fixed with communication.”
“He’s bad for me, Mom.” I feel the vulnerability crack my voice.
She chuckles, shaking her head.
“What?” I grumble.
“Your Aunt Lexie used to think that about your dad. Now look at us.”
“Mom, this is different.”
“Is it, though?” She quirks a brow.
“He’s the enemy,” I rasp.
She leans back slightly, sighing gently. “Enemy or not, you can’t fight attraction, but I don’t think that’s the problem here.”
What is she talking about? This is the main problem. She must sense my confusion, because she chuckles again, taking my hand in hers. “The real issue is that you’re scared.”
“Scared?” I frown. I’m instantly regretting opening up to Mom about this— the conversation has completely veered off course.
She squeezes my hand, smiling softly. “Scared that you’re going to get hurt. And that’s okay, sweetheart. But you can’t ignore what’s right in front of you, and you can’t punish yourself for knowing what you want.”
That’s the problem, though. I don’t know what I want. I don’t know whether I want to put a bullet between Milo’s eyes or fuck him until he bleeds. But maybe Mom is right. Maybe talking to him will solve this, because I can’t let my anger fester away and I can’t keep avoiding him.
Shit. Maybe I am scared.
* * *
M osaique isn’t a club I’ve visited much until recently. The music is circus themed, with women prancing around in skimpy outfits. Hoops hang from the ceiling, adding to the exotic atmosphere this place boasts. Considering it’s only late afternoon, the tables are filling up quickly. The staff are busying themselves and the dancers are already spinning and bending their bodies into weird shapes on the stage, the trapeze artists above us wrapping themselves around the hoops.
I have to say, I get the intrigue. New York City doesn’t have many places like these, so I can see the appeal. It’s not exactly my scene, but I can see why it attracts the crowds.
While I sit at the table, picking at the label on my beer, Roman is repeating the story of how my sister came across Milo and the Chief of Police. I’ve already heard it, but even now it still stokes the anger inside of me.
It’s been a week since I opened up to Mom, and the relief would feel a whole lot better if I wasn’t about to see Milo for the first time since I disappeared on him. To say I’m on edge is an understatement; I have no idea how to act around him. Do I ignore the elephant in the room? Do I confront him? Surely if I did, the Russians would eradicate him before he even had the chance to explain himself. I have every right to throw him to the wolves, but there’s a part of me that doesn’t want to see him in the morgue just yet.
“Are you sure?” Haldon questions skeptically. “Milo Kyrovsky and the Chief of Police?”
“That’s what Lani said,” Roman replies, keeping his voice low.
Haldon chews on his lip in thought, eyes glancing at me briefly. “So he’s a mole?” he muses.
“Or a cop.”
I try to tune out the conversation, but all that does is fuel the rage and hurt, the betrayal I know I shouldn’t be feeling. Milo isn’t the good guy—none of us are—but I should have seen this coming.
“Do you think he’s undercover?” Haldon asks me.
I scowl back, tugging at the label still attached to my bottle. “I don’t know,” I shrug. “It’s not exactly something that’s come up in conversation.” In fact, nothing has really come up in conversation lately aside from me opening up to him about my sister. I think that’s what’s bothering me the most; that I told him something that could be lethal in the wrong hands.
“So you admit you’ve been seeing him?” Roman snickers into his beer bottle.
“Fuck off,” I snarl. “If you’re allowed secrets, so am I.”
Roman raises a brow, his lips curled at one corner as he regards my words. “I’ll find out either way,” he replies menacingly.
I ignore the fact that he’s got Gracie tracking the Russians. Along with Cillian’s help, it’s only a matter of time before we find out what else they’re bringing into the city. My money is on something far worse than drugs, but until we have evidence, there isn’t a lot we can do but sit and wait.
The door behind the bar opens, and the Federovs step out. My blood runs hotter than a furnace when my eyes land on Milo. I’m sure it’s evident on my face just how much his presence affects me, and it takes all my nerves to calm down.
“Might as well ask him yourself,” I grunt, throwing back the remainder of my drink. My eyes lock onto Milo’s blue ones, and all the memories of last weekend come flooding back. I slam the bottle down on the table, just as the men reach our table.
“Gentlemen,” Konstantin greets with an open hand.
I reach forward, shaking his hand out of politeness before returning my attention to the label on my bottle. This is more Roman’s meeting than mine, but since we’re a team, we’re all here—as much as I don’t want to be.
While Roman discusses territory with the Federovs, I’m avoiding eye contact with Milo. He’s been calling me all week, and like the coward I am, I’ve been avoiding him. I wish I could say it’s because I’m done with him, but the truth is, I don’t think I want to hear what he has to say. I fear that whatever he wants to talk about is the exact reason I’m in this shitty mood in the first place, and if he finally admits that what I fear is true, that’s the end of us.
And I don’t think I’m ready for that just yet.