Chapter 18
“Three days? Are you sure he’s not dead?” Kara waggles her eyebrows.
“He’s not dead.” I point a finger at her through my phone’s FaceTime. “Don’t say things like that.”
“I’m not saying I want him dead, although how he treated you at the wedding definitely didn’t score him any points. He was a real asshole.”
“He was,” I agree. “But that doesn’t mean I want him dead.”
“No. Of course not,” Kara admits. “Have you talked to him at all, or he’s just disappeared?”
“He’s sent a text twice telling me he was working, but that’s it.”
“A text?” Kara squishes up her lips. “Not even a phone call? Maybe meeting Tommy spooked him. Maybe he thinks you’re going to bring him home one day, and he’ll have to play daddy to Tony’s son.”
“I wouldn’t think so. I explained that my uncle has custody. I don’t think he was spooked. I got the impression he wasn’t happy that Vicente has guardianship, though.”
“So what have you been doing while you have the whole place to yourself? I know you’ve been at Tommy’s place every afternoon, but during the day?”
“Studying.” I lean back against the pillows on the massive bed I’ve been sleeping in alone.
“Eww.” She shakes her head. “What for?”
“I have to take a certification test to get my teaching credentials for the state. I scheduled it for two weeks from now.”
“You’re going back to work?” Her perfectly sculpted eyebrows shoot up. “He’s letting you?”
“Letting me?” I laugh. “He barely acknowledges my existence. It’s better for me to have a job. Between that and spending time with Tommy, I’ll have a full schedule.”
“Right. And you’re right back to what you were here in New York. Living below the radar hoping no one notices you.” She frowns. “Sienna, you deserve better than that. You deserve someone who not only sees you but can’t get enough of looking at you.”
“I’m good, Kara. Seriously, this is fine. It’s better than New York. Well, except you and Rosa aren’t here. He’s nothing like my brothers or my uncle. It’s okay like this.”
“Bullshit.”
“Seriously.”
“That isn’t living, Sienna. It’s existing. And you deserve better.”
“You’re making it sound worse than it is.” I move my phone to my other hand. “I’m okay like this.”
“You’re lying, but I think you’re lying more to yourself than me, so I’ll forgive it for now.” She sighs, putting her phone down and leaning it against something so she can both hands to work her hair up into a ponytail.
“Is he at least good in bed? I mean I know what you said about him when he was Dmitrii, but now that he’s Kaz…how’s that going?”
Before I can answer the bedroom door opens and Sergei fills the doorway. I jump at the sudden intrusion, dropping my phone onto the bed.
“Sienna? You okay?” Kara’s voice carries through.
“You have a visitor,” he announces.
I pick up the phone and gesture to Kara to give me a minute.
“Do you know who it is?” I swing my legs over the side of the bed.
“Your cousin.”
My stomach clenches. He’s not specific but doesn’t really matter. I don’t have any good cousins.
“Kara, I’ll call you back later tonight.”
“I’ll be out. Call me in the morning. Sooner if you need a rescue.”
I roll my eyes at her. “I’m fine. Talk tomorrow.” I end the call and hop off the bed, wiggling my feet into my clogs.
“I’ll be down in a second. Can you just put him in the living room for now?”
He nods.
After he leaves, I quickly change out of my pajama pants and T-shirt into a pair of jeans and a light blue blouse. I pull out the messy bun I’m sporting and quickly braid my hair.
Mrs. Popova is at the foot of the stairs waiting with a firm smile.
“Everything okay?” I ask, stopping on the last stair.
“Of course. I just wanted to ask if you and your guest will be wanting tea or coffee or some snacks? I have a coffee cake I can cut up on bring in, or maybe some cookies?”
Her tone is tight, like she’s doing her best to sound pleasant.
“No. That’s all right. Thank you, though.” I glance toward the living room doorway. “I doubt he’ll stay that long.”
She straightens her back and gives a soft nod. “If you need anything while your visitor is here, there’s a button on the underside of the mantel. It will alert the guards.”
“The guards? Why would I need the guards?”
She pats my hand. “It’s there if you need it.”
This isn’t a normal house. This isn’t a normal life. It’s not normal to have an alarm in the living room.
Deciding to unpack my panic later, I smooth my hands down my sides and enter the living room.
Dante stands at the front window, the curtains pushed aside with one hand as he stares down at the front walkway. My throat dries at the sight of my oldest cousin.
I clear my throat, and he drops the curtain.
“Dante. I wasn’t expecting you.”
Like the crypt keeper I’ve always thought of him as, he turns around slowly. His expression, when it comes into view, is stone hard.
He’s wearing all black. Even his tie is solid black. His hair is slicked back from his face with a thick layer of gel that makes it look more like a helmet than hair.
When I was a little girl, I knocked on it once to see if it was as hard as it looked.
I didn’t do it a second time.
“I arrived this morning.” He snaps his heels together, standing straighter and folding his hands in front of him.
“I spoke with Uncle Vicente the other day; he didn’t mention you’d be visiting.”
“That’s because I’m not visiting. I’m here permanently.”
“Permanently?” I clear my throat trying to get rid of the telling tremor in my voice. “I didn’t realize…no one mentioned.”
He looks around the room, like he’s inspecting it, judging it. When he brings his attention back to me, he has a smug grin.
“You’ve settled in already. I thought it would have taken you at least a month before you forgot all about your brothers, but it seems you’ve already gotten over the loss.”
I roll my shoulders back. “What are you talking about?”
“Look at you, you’re not a woman in mourning.”
Instinctively, I look down at my clothing. Light blue blouse, light denim jeans, while he’s drenched in black.
“There’s more to grief than the color of my clothing.” At least there should be, but in my case my heart doesn’t feel any loss.
Not the way a sister should when all of her brothers are cold in the ground.
“I’ll take your word for it.” He takes a step toward me, and I can’t help myself—I retreat back. “Are you afraid of me?”
“What? No.” I laugh as though he’s being ridiculous. But he’s not.
I’ve seen what Dante is capable of; his mother named him well.
“Has your husband filled your head with lies about your family? Made you hate where you’ve come from?” The darkness in his gaze emphasizes his heavy tone.
“I haven’t talked to him about our family.” I haven’t talked to him at all in three days, since I informed him about Tommy. But bringing up Tommy to Dante is like bringing a lit match into a gas-filled room.
Dante narrows his eyes. “You haven’t forgotten who he is, what his family has done, have you?”
“I’m aware of what he did.” I fist my hands.
“Tell me. I want to hear you say it.” He takes another step toward me, but this time I remain right where I am.
Letting Dante smell fear only fuels him. Showing it to him excites him.
“He and his brothers killed Marco, Michael, and Tony.” Saying the words out loud should invoke anger in me. My husband killed my brothers, but there’s a small part of me that feels only relief.
“That’s right. And they’re trying to ruin us completely.”
“I don’t know anything about that.” I shrug.
“Marco always said it was better to keep you innocent, but Marco’s not in charge of the family anymore.” The tips of his shoes press against my toes as he towers over me. “I am.”
“Dante.” I press back. “What do you want? Why are you here?”
He straightens up, putting a little more space between us.
“Your husband needs to understand the truce he brokered with Vicente does not mean our family is dead. He may have killed your brothers, but we still have power here.”
“I don’t want anything to do with any of that.”
“I don’t really give a fuck what you want.” He gnashes his teeth. “You’ll do what you’re told to do, or you can kiss that little boy goodbye.”
My heart skids right into my lungs. “Leave him out of this. Stay away from him.”
“Then you’ll do what I tell you to do.” He rakes his gaze over me again. “And fucking remember what family you belong to.”
“What do you want from me?” My fingernails dig into my palms. It’s taking everything in me not to scratch them down his face.
“I want to know what him and his brothers are planning. I need to know what they know.”
“He doesn’t tell me things. I’ve only been here less than a week.” I doubt a year would make a difference.
“Then I suggest you start getting him to talk. Spread your fucking whore legs for him and get him to tell you what I need to know.”
“He doesn’t trust me. He hates me because of who I am. He won’t tell me anything.”
He grabs my arm in a death grip and shakes me. “I don’t care what you have to do to get the information, but you find out what I need to know.”
“Dante.” I try to pull away but he only tightens his grip. “There’s a truce between our families, why would you ruin that? Do you want more of our family to die?”
“I want his family to die.” He jerks me forward, dragging me to a painting hanging over the fireplace.
It’s of the Volkov family. Kaz, his brothers, and a woman I assume is his sister. They’re young, standing in front of a fireplace much like this.
“Do you see them? They think they rule the fucking world because their family is older, their power is older. But we’re stronger.”
“Dante.” I pull again, but he’s not letting go. He shoves me forward again.
“Look at them. And all of this is because of a fucking woman. A fucking whore.” He points at the young girl, she’s maybe fifteen in the painting. But they all look so much younger I can’t tell when it was painted.
“Stop it.”
He shoves me forward. I put my hands out to stop myself from hitting the edge of the mantel.
The button Mrs. Popova told me about is there. It’s minuscule and painted to blend in with the dark wood of the mantel. And it’s within finger’s reach.
Dante grabs me again, spinning me around to face him.
“Find out what he knows about our plans and contact me right away. You have one week. After that I’ll visit Tommy. It’s been years since I’ve seen the boy. I assume he’s still deaf and dumb.”
“He’s not dumb.” My voice raises. Only a coward would use a little boy as leverage, and my family seems to be filled with them.
He snorts. “He’s as useless as you. And completely dispensable. Remember that.”
As though the devil has called him home, he spins on his heel and storms out of the living room. I’m still standing at the fireplace, rubbing my arm, when the front door slams.
Tears build, and I squeeze my eyes closed to keep them from falling. Crying has never solved any of my problems.
Taking a deep breath, I decide on my course of action.
“Where are you going?” Sergei asks as I rush to the front closet and grab my coat.
“Out.”