Chapter 3
IVAN
The day after Misha’s party, I returned to Luka’s home to discuss this newly formed but much belated idea of mine. I had to get away. I could call it a break. But it would be a physical removal from my day-to-day life to try to find closure on my past. On my loss.
I found Gabriella pacing in the hallway with a screaming Andre. Wincing at the loud decibel of the cries, I held out my arms to offer assistance—if she’d want it. If the baby was upset, she’d be the one to help.
My goal was to come here and talk about getting away, but while I was here, I’d help.
She shook her head as she spotted me. “Teething. Literally nothing helps.”
Well, I tried. I didn’t push. She’d know best. Continuing on to find Luka, I wished her good luck.
He was sitting at his desk, going over some papers he’d received.
Even though we liked to tease him that he was getting old, he didn’t look it.
This appearance could complicate that. He was a Luddite in the manner that he preferred paper documents and photos, but in this field of work, where we often dealt with drugs, assassinations, and numerous trades in the black market, it was good to avoid a digital trail.
Noticing my entrance, he glanced up and raised his brows. Then he extracted the ear plugs he’d set in his ears. “I had to check these things out and he’s crying so loud…”
I chuckled, holding my hand up. “I don’t blame you.” I sat and faced him directly.
“What’s up?”
“I need to get away.” Coming out bold and direct was the best approach with my uncle.
“Fuck.” He huffed a weak laugh and tossed his earplug to the desktop. “With that boy teething, count me in on that too.” He saw that I wasn’t joking, though, so he sobered up and cleared his throat. “What’s going on?” he asked more seriously.
“I want to know if I could have a leave of absence.”
He nodded. “Always.” He folded his hands together. “But why now?”
I shrugged, hating that like Alexsei, he could’ve noticed how unhappy I was. That seemed like a weakness I wouldn’t freely own up to.
“I’ve got a lot on my mind and it’d be nice to just… get away. A change of scenery for a while to really think some things through.”
Lifting his hands and splaying them out a bit, he shrugged. “Go ahead. Do whatever you need to do. You can take a leave whenever you want. You know that.”
I could assume that. But he was still the boss and it was best to have his approval first.
With his blessing, I planned to head out of the city. Venice seemed like a random and far-away location where I might not have any memories of Raisa, so I booked a flight and arranged for coverage. That was when Emil stopped by my place, when I was in the middle of planning this trip.
“Mind if I come along?” he asked, hands in his pockets.
I arched one brow at the rebel among us. Unlike Alexsei and me, Emil gave no shit about looking like the “bad boy” women claimed him to be. Scarred up, tatted, and always sporting such a cocky smirk, my cousin was a devil in disguise no matter the day of the week or the occasion on hand.
“You want to come with me?”
He shrugged. “Yeah. Why not?”
“Didn’t you just get back from Bolivia?”
He rubbed his jaw. “Yeah.” Another shrug. I supposed it was nothing for him to travel nonstop for his hits.
“I’ve been wanting to check out a property in Milan,” he explained.
“All right.” It was my turn to shrug. “If you want.” I wanted time alone to reflect, but I wouldn’t turn down a chance to travel with a companion.
Two days later, we were seated on Luka’s private jet. He’d offered it after the fact, and Emil insisted that we stick with flying in style instead of settling for first-class.
He sat back and sighed, looking truly at peace to get away.
I took my seat and cringed, worrying if this was all for nothing.
What would getting away really solve? It wasn’t like I’d stay away.
I’d always come back to my family, and they would always be the same as when I left them—examples of doting lovers and happy parents of children.
Just like drinking wouldn’t do much to dull or numb the pain of my heartache, traveling for a while wouldn’t erase anything either.
Before long, we took off and were in the air, crossing the ocean.
After finishing a call with Luka, Emil set his phone aside and glanced at me. “Have you noticed how chill and settled he is now?”
“Your father?”
He nodded.
“I’ve noticed.” I resumed staring ahead. “He is chill—he’s so chill because he’s settled down with a woman he loves.”
“Isn’t it weird?”
I glanced at him again. “How so?” If he was getting ready to say that he had issues with his father marrying a woman younger than him, he was too late to voice his opinion. His thoughts on the matter wouldn’t have changed anything, either. Luka clearly loved Gabriella with all his heart.
“I don’t know. Just the concept of doing that. Settling down. With only one woman.” He shrugged, pursing his lips like he was utterly confused.
I rolled my eyes. “Says the bachelor moron…”
He laughed lightly, not taking offense at my dig. Of all of us, he was the player. With his lifestyle of frequently being on the go and never staying still for the hits he took out, it wasn’t surprising that he didn’t have any inclination to settle or commit with one woman.
After a long moment, he leaned toward me, as if to whisper conspiratorially despite no one else being a passenger on the plane. “What, do you think that could’ve been you and Raisa?”
I bit back another groan. Hearing her name was still that hard to handle.
Not answering him egged him on to continue.
“Because I was there, remember?”
I turned to face him, rolling my head on the headrest.
“I was there.” He smiled wider now. “That one night.”
I sighed, hating to be dragged back to that memory.
“There were many nights.” We were all younger then, but Emil’s fondness for traveling had started then.
Back in that time, he was partying, not yet designated as the Dubinins’ top killer.
Now, he traveled for hits. He wasn’t lying about this particular event, though.
He’d met Raisa, sort of. And he’d partied and drunk with us when Raisa and I wanted to get out for a change.
“I was there that one night when we were all wasted and drunk as fuck.”
I nodded slowly, hating that he’d force me to relive the experience now.
“When I ‘officiated’ you two getting hitched.” He used air quotes and all. If we weren’t cousins, if we weren’t friends, I would’ve punched that smug smile off his face by now.
This wasn’t a joke to me.
The memory of Raisa was a painful ache I couldn’t erase.
“It was only a joke,” I muttered in protest.
“Well, yeah. No shit it was a joke.” Emil laughed once, sensing that I didn’t want to talk about this more. “I wasn’t authorized to officiate any marriage. Besides, we were all drunk, just talking shit about our futures.”
And I never could’ve counted on my future derailing so soon after that night. We were all playing around and just having fun. But when I faced that blonde with the most alluring blue eyes, I wanted to assume it could be real.
“You know, my father asked me about who the hell she was that fucked you up so bad. About which woman you seemed so homesick for.”
I shrugged, not wanting to elaborate. I’d never told Luka too much about Raisa, and for a good reason. But even he had noticed my melancholy when I left her.
“I wish it were real,” I mumbled.
“What was? That you married Raisa for real?” His tone held nothing but incredulity. “What the fuck is stopping you then?”
I scoffed. “Maybe the fact that it’s been years since I’ve even seen her?”
“Then… go see her.” His logic was the same as Alexsei’s. We were members of the Dubinin Family. If we wanted something, we went for it. Obstacles that applied to commoners and civilians never had to hold us back from our goals.
“Look, it’s just you and me here. Talk to me. What the hell happened between you and Raisa?” He didn’t let me off the hook when I stared ahead and didn’t reply. “That bullshit about your being with Selena or whatever her name was never sat well with me. I’m calling your bluff on that, too.”
Still, I bit my lip and refused to talk about it. It hurt that much.
“I saw how good you two were together. You made sense like how my father and Gabby do.”
I smiled. “She hates it when you call her Gabby.”
“Don’t change the subject.”
“Fuck it.” I leaned forward, setting my elbows on my knees and sinking my face into my hands.
Back when Raisa and I met on our travels, we were young. Stupid. Emil tagged along sometimes too, just to have fun. We weren’t entrenched in our positions in the family yet, simply carefree to enjoy the world before accepting our responsibilities and power.
It was all so long ago. Where was the harm in explaining a little more now?
It wouldn’t change anything. What was done was done.
“Raisa wasn’t just a stranger I’d met while we were abroad.”
“I figured that much.” He furrowed his brow, as if insulted that I wouldn’t have thought he’d assume she was someone significant.
“She was more than just a girlfriend over that summer.”
He nodded, rolling his hand as if to prompt me to get to the good stuff. Impatient, even.
“She was—is—Konstantin Petrov’s daughter.”
Now he cut out the antics.
He sobered. Staring me dead in the eye, he seemed to wait for the punchline. None would be coming. Because I wasn’t joking. I was as serious as ever to tell him that detail that changed our lives.
“She’s…?” He had yet to lose that stupefied expression.
“Raisa Petrov. Konstantin’s daughter—”
“Are you serious?” he asked. “Konstantin? Fuck. Seriously?”
Raisa and I had dated so many years ago, and still, the importance of what family she came from mattered.
“As in Konstantin Petrov. That Konstantin? The old-fashioned, stuck-in-his-ways, Old-Guard fucker?” He cringed as he spoke.
Luka had never been fond of the man, and as our boss, the leader of the Dubinin Family, his views trickled down to us.
Every Dubinin would recognize Konstantin Petrov’s name, and each one would recall how old-school and strict he was.
When Raisa told me exactly who she was, I had a similar sobering reaction as what Emil was having now.
Her father wasn’t impressed with his niece being so “loose”, daring to date a man not of his choosing.
Rumors were that he’d had another niece killed for traveling with a man from the wrong family, as in one he didn’t approve of being traditionalist like him. And Raisa was his only daughter…
“You walked away from Konstantin Petrov’s daughter,” Emil concluded slowly.
I nodded.
“And you got away unscathed just in time before he could figure out you were with her at all.”
I didn’t blame him for guessing that. Raisa and I dated for one summer. Almost four months. It didn’t shock me that Emil would assume I’d left as soon as I knew I was helping myself to a woman who hadn’t been “chosen” for me.
But he was wrong.
I hadn’t gotten away unscathed. The ache of having to leave her would ruin my soul and be the source of my misery until the end of all my days.