Chapter 38 Gabi
GABI
Instead of going back to the kitchen, where I left Ivan and his girls with their breakfast mess, I head back to my room to find my burner phone.
My brothers wanted me to be prepared and a good thing too, considering what happened to my official phone.
I concealed the burner in a sanitary towel, tucked in at the bottom of the box where no man digs willingly.
As Don, Matteo is in charge, but I know Dominic like I don’t know Matteo, and from what I’ve seen, he’d do anything to protect a woman.
I lean against the vanity as I dial his number.
Milana is desperate, and I can’t let her do something foolish like scale the compound’s monster wall and kill herself in the process.
“Nicky?” I say as he answers.
“What’s wrong, cara?”
His tone holds the same desperate concern from the day I left with Ivan. His hands were tied, and he didn’t like it at all.
Arranged marriage, indeed. One Dominic didn’t sign me up for.
“Do we fetch you?”
“No, I’m fine. I’m totally fine. Milana needs help, though. She needs out. I’m not sure how to make it happen.”
“What do you mean, needs out?”
“Like in escape the Bratva. Her fiancé, Boryslav Petrenko, got killed, and she doesn’t feel safe here.” I have a secret I can’t share, and I’m embellishing now, making up my own story, but in for a penny…
He’s quiet for a moment. “I can’t do that, Gabi. As it is, this thing—”
“There was an attempted coup, Nicky, on the Fourth of July. In this house. I don’t know exactly what happened, or who was involved, but Milana wants out.
I’m fine. Don’t worry about me. But is there a way you can keep her safe, with us, in Il Consiglio?
Make her untouchable…I don’t know how, but I know I can count on you. ”
Best sow the seeds and water them some. My brothers already put me in this position by male Mafia logic; it will only take them an hour to consult and come up with the most brilliant plan, as if they thought of it all by themselves.
I’m already learning from Milana, thinking on my feet. Don’t fight the cage—make the cage work for you.
“Would you feel safer if she was under our…care?”
Between us hangs the unspoken deal my brothers made with Ivan. I should ask about the arranged marriage, but until I’m walking down the aisle, it isn’t happening, so I cop out.
“Totally,” I say, sealing the deal. “Ivan won’t hurt me or you while Milana is under Il Consiglio control. He loves her too much. I know she’ll be safe with you. No one would hurt her in Il Consiglio, either.”
I’ve read between the lines. I’ve read all my mother’s letters.
I know what she was subjected to. My brothers saw and lived too much under Don Giuliano Scalera.
A lot of sons would go down the same path, but something happened.
Our mother died. Alex died. Each of my brothers fights his own battles, but one thing is certain: they all live their lives with a giant fuck-you permanently pointed in Don Scalera’s direction, and that means putting women on a pedestal.
“Let me meet with Matteo. We’ll sort it out with Petrov.”
“Thank you, Nicky. Please don’t mention anything about the coup. I’m not supposed to know.”
“Yep, got it.”
I ring off, drop my head back, and exhale in slow, punctured relief.
This whole gig was supposed to be get in, make money, get out, disappear.
All it’s been is get in, get roped in by two gorgeous little girls, get lust-fogged by their handsome, caring father, get trapped by my own idiocy for exposing my knowledge of Russian, and now sinking, one secret at a time, to a place of no return.
I’m still standing there when footsteps fall in the corridor. I rush to hide my phone, shoving it back into the sanitary napkin box.
“Gabriella?”
Ivan.
With the box still in my hand, I walk out of my bathroom.
He’s paused in my doorway. Why did I leave it open?
Too dumb to be a spy. You are too fucking terrible at it.
“The girls are asking for you. How’s Milana—” He breaks off as his gaze drops to the box in my hand.
He doesn’t flinch, doesn’t look away awkwardly. Instead, he steps closer, and I, by instinct, hide the box behind my back, keeping the burner phone safe. Heat sweeps over my cheeks, and I drop my gaze. Now he thinks I’m on my period.
“Do you need Advil or Tylenol or something? I have some in my room.”
My blush deepens as I shake my head. I’ve never talked period stuff with a man before. “I’m okay, I’ll just— Give me a minute.”
I retreat two steps back, close the bathroom door, roll my eyes with a suppressed groan, and go about the business of ripping open a sanitary towel, creating the necessary sound effects, and going so far as sticking it to my panties’ gusset. There’s no backtracking out of this one now.
I zip up my jeans, pop the box into the vanity cupboard, and take time to wash my hands, composing myself. When I walk out of the bathroom, Ivan is on a call.
“Yes, a classic hot-water bottle, you know the type, yes, yes. Don’t fuck it up, Kostya.”
His eyes are on me, taking in every stray hair, every dainty mole on my skin, every bit of exposed skin down my neck to my breasts.
And it isn’t awkward. It’s like a caress, a promise, and then his eyes dip even lower, and there’s no shame in his stance. He is staring at me as if he plans to touch me first with his gaze, then with his hands, then with his lips…and my breathing stalls.
“Just bring it as soon as possible, no fucking detours.” He kills the call and holds out some Advil to me. “In case you don’t have any. Kostya will bring you a hot water bottle. If you need to lie down, get Yuri to watch the girls.”
“Ivan—” Goodness. This man. I didn’t know that men could be this gentle and caring.
I look up as he strides over to me and cups my cheek. “Told you from now on I’m looking after you. In everything and anything.”
I nod, lifting my hand to push him away, but dropping it instead to his chest to feel the comfort of his warmth, but also to close it over the eye tattooed on his chest, stopping it from seeing my lies, my lust, my slow, unexpected tumble into this man.
“This house… Ivan, I really don’t know what happened here, but it’s driving Milana to self-harm. I’m really scared for her. Can’t you make a plan? Move her somewhere where the memories don’t haunt her?”
There. Job done. Now my brothers just need to live up to expectations—a girl can only do so much.
“Did she talk to you?”
A picture says more than a thousand words.
“Not really.” At least that isn’t a lie. “It’s just a feeling.”
“Okay. I’ll have to think about it.” He reaches for my hand and lifts it to his lips. His gaze keeps mine trapped as he places a single kiss on each of my knuckles.
The gesture is tender, a tasting of the temptation he offers, a courtship.
As he twists my hand to expose my wrist, I quiver with a hot and ready arousal that’s been put on pause for so long.
Now, his kissing presses play again, sending tremors down my arm.
He kisses my wrist, his warm breath smooth over my skin as his tongue darts out and licks the lines of my veins.
“Ivan—” I bite my lip, too inexperienced, too naive to become anything but a wanton, needy mess in his hands.
“Have you figured it out yet, moya ptichka?” he murmurs as he kisses the heel of my palm to the pad of my thumb, sucking the tip into his mouth.
“Figured what out?” I ask, breathless, leaning into him, no longer trusting my legs. The bed is right there—I can collapse on it and pull him to me.
“That I need yes as an answer when I ask you to marry me?”
God help me here…he is going to ask me and he expects a yes.
It’s a done deal, but I’ve gotten to know Ivan these past few weeks. He is being a gentleman and will seek my consent, even if he has a noose around Il Consiglio’s neck. He won’t take what hasn’t been offered, not from a woman, anyway.
I stare at him as he lowers my hand, just holding it. The gap between us is charged with tension, but neither of us closes it, allowing our bodies to collide.
I could be his wife. Cave in to this lust. Be his. It will be more than good. It will be perfect.
“Why?” My heart is a runaway train, rushing blood, making me heady.
“Because I won’t take no for an answer, but I’d like to ask you all the same.” He smiles, and although he’s serious, there’s a hint of tease in his voice.
I’ve seen him with his daughters. It will be no chore to be this man’s wife. It will be so easy to fall in love with him—to allow myself to fall in love with him and not fight it every step of the way.
He would be my perfect haven. I could stop running and finally heal under his gentle touch. He’ll override my trauma with his body, his know-how, and maybe, just maybe, I won’t be so petrified of intimacy or what it reminds me of.
He’ll help me forget.
“You don’t know me,” I whisper, swept away in a riptide, unable to swim against it, but wanting to warn him off.
“There’s enough here to make it work, moya ptichka,” he says with a squeeze to my hand as he leans in and brushes a kiss over my temple. “I’ll see you tonight.”
Those last words hold so much promise, I have to sink down on the bed and gather myself. I listen to his footsteps as he heads down the corridor, my fingers trembling over the spot where his lips marked me as his.