Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
Katya
“Itold you!”
Being woken up by my best friend’s loud brand of enthusiasm is not exactly a new occurrence, but not a common one either.
Groaning, I ignore the sound of her voice and the rocking of my mattress—no doubt from her jumping on it and standing above me.
I can feel where her feet are dipping into my sheets, pushing the memory foam down under her weight.
Without a word, I scrunch my eyes shut harder and pull my spare pillow over my face, trying to hide from the world for even a moment longer.
“Oh, nonono,” she sings, dropping down to her knees as she reaches out to snatch my pillow away. “I come bearing news, my beautiful friend, and it’s time to wake up and hear it.”
“My alarm hasn’t gone off,” I grumble, reluctantly allowing my eyes to crack open. “That means it’s not even 8:00 a.m.”
“Pshhh.” Chloe waves a dismissive hand. “Who cares how early it is when there’s news to be heard?”
I care.
I very much care.
She’s just jostled me out of a very restful, peaceful sleep.
As far as I’m concerned, she’s just committed an egregious friendship sin.
After the busy week I’ve had of helping my mother wrangle my little sister, nearly pulling my hair out while trying to compose music, and dealing with Ares’ newest foul mood—this sleep has been the most relaxation I’ve felt in days.
And now it’s ruined.
“This news couldn’t have waited until I woke up?” I ask with a disgruntled huff. “This is the second time this week that you’ve barged in uninvited with news, Chloe.”
“Uninvited?” she gasps, clutching her heart as if I’ve stabbed her in it. “Katya, I’m hurt! I thought your door was always open to me?”
“My door, sure. My bed? Not so much.”
“Oh you wish I’d get into this bed more. Admit it, you want to snuggle me.”
“Smother, more like,” I snark, not hiding my poor attitude. “It’s too early for this.”
My best friend rolls her eyes, unaffected by my grumpy mood. “Girl, I almost woke you up an hour ago. Thank your mother for keeping me out of here until then. She distracted me with coffee, pastries, and gossip.”
My mother is a saint.
“She knows that I don’t like being woken up unnecessarily on the weekend,” I remind her in a low drawl. “These are the only days I choose to sleep in even a little bit. You know, most people consider waking up at eight to still be early. Imagine if I tried to make it until ten?”
She snorts as if the thought is ridiculous. “Yeah right, you always have to be up and doing something. You’re the most productive person I know. If you slept in for an extra two hours, you wouldn’t know how to make up for the lost time.”
I can’t deny her claim, but I can’t brush off my mood enough to agree with her either. “Can you please just tell me why you’re waking me up and in my bed jostling me around so I can go back to sleep?”
“Nope,” she chimes happily, popping the P. “You won’t be able to fall back asleep after I’m done revealing my news. I’ve already woken you up and gotten words out of you. You’re up for the day, face it, cupcake.”
“My God, it’s like having a toddler sometimes with you,” I grumble, throwing my blankets off and sliding out of bed. My bare feet hit the cool wood floor of my bedroom and I stretch as I stand up, already missing the comfortable hold of my bed. “What’s your news, Chloe?”
She claps excitedly and jumps off my mattress, rounding it so that she can get as close to me as possible. “He’s looking for a wife! I told you he would be, and now he is!”
“What?” I ask, nose scrunching in confusion. “Who’s looking for a wife?”
“Leon Moretti, who else?” Chloe scoffs, offended that I didn’t immediately know who she was referring to. As if I didn’t just get pulled out of sleep.
Despite her breaking into my studio only a couple of days ago with almost this exact same information, I would be confused right now no matter what the topic of conversation was.
I need to splash some cold water on my face and drink an iced chai latte before I can even process this interaction fully.
She practically vibrates with glee as she shimmies and says, “I told you he wouldn’t wait long to remarry, and now his father is putting out feelers to their allies! The funeral is tomorrow, and after that, official inquiries will be made.”
She’s so happy, you’d think it’s Christmas morning with the way she has stars in her eyes and hope in her voice.
I love my friend, but sometimes her lack of empathy for others worries me.
She’s adopted her father’s signature brand of graveyard humor, and views death as an eventuality, rather than something tragic.
“I don’t even know what to do with this information,” I admit with a sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose. “The funeral is tomorrow and they’re putting out feelers? Isn’t that a bit insensitive?”
“He’s an Underboss with two kids to take care of, Kat,” she states frankly.
“Of course he’s looking for someone to help him out.
It’s not insensitive, it’s practical. A man like that is busy, and you know what they say about Morettis.
They care about their family more than anything else, so yeah, it makes sense that they’d want his sons to have a mother figure. ”
When she puts it like that…
I shouldn’t judge either way, I remind myself silently. I’ve never even met the family, so it’s not my place to determine their morality or the reasons for what they choose to do. I wouldn’t want someone to judge my mourning actions either.
“I suppose I just feel for them,” I admit with a sad sigh. “Losing a parent…losing a partner, it’s not something that you can so easily recover from. Even if his sons are young, they’ll remember her.”
Leon will remember her too, vividly.
You don’t forget the women who gave you children, even if your relationship isn’t all sunshine and rainbows. And according to the very unreliable rumor network, Leon and Cleo were never in love. Still, some connections are difficult to sever, especially when they’re bound by blood.
Chloe smiles sympathetically. “You’re right. They need someone to support them, and that’s why I’m going to do everything I can to be that person.”
“Chloe—”
She ignores me, continuing to prattle on happily. “It’s a perfect scenario. I need a good, rich husband who’s not a total monster, and Leon needs a wife from a good family who can help him with his little family. I’m totally a family girl.”
I want to tell her that she’s underestimating how much work slipping into a grieving family unit will be…
And that maybe Ares had a point when he mentioned her aversion to children and their messes; but I can’t bring myself to dull her hope.
Chloe has been talking and dreaming about a good marriage match since we turned eighteen.
At twenty-three now, we’re both pushing it with our ages while remaining unwed.
Most girls from good, strong mafia lines are married from eighteen to twenty-five. Some go to college, or Empire Academy. Some are professional ballerinas, or working on degrees to help their families. Lawyers, accountants, etc. Those girls typically get a pass for marrying later on.
But Chloe and I? We don’t contribute to our families, not to the family business at least. Our roles have always been to marry, forge alliances, and make babies.
It sounds a little sad, if you’re dreaming of more.
But I’ve always been content with the idea of falling in love and having a family.
Being a mother has never been something that I was afraid of, but rather that I looked forward to.
I wanted to have little babies and to take care of them the way my mother did.
Even before she married Linus and brought us into The Gods syndicate, I was born into organized crime.
My father was Jakub Luká?, a man who was considered a more than honorable, high-ranking officer in the Slovakian mafia that operated inside the shared territory of New York City.
Unlike The Gods, my father’s family business wasn’t vast enough to hold their own territory in the US outside of neutral zones, but they had a significant history and power in Slavic territories around the world.
While The Gods also have a foothold in NYC like plenty of US mafias do, they also have their own territory in Florida.
We’re below the East Coast stronghold that the Moretti Outfit operates.
They’ve got one of the longest stretches of land to call their own, from parts of upstate New York, all the way down to the bottom of South Carolina.
Being so close to NYC, the neutral zone, you’d think they’d be at risk for attacks more often, but they’re one of the most secure operations there is.
The Morettis of the East and the Morozovs of the West are certainly the most formidable mafias in the country.
Luckily for my household, we’re friendly with both families.
“Are you sure Leon would be a good match?” I finally ask, biting my lip awkwardly. “I mean, do you think you could become a stepmom overnight? You know there are still other single Morettis, right? Ones who don’t have young children…”
“Not any of them who have a high rank like him,” she replies with a sniff. “Apollo finally got snatched up by that Bulgarian traitor’s daughter, what’s-her-name—”
“You know her name is Rayna,” I cut in, giving her a disapproving frown. “And we don’t judge people for the sins of their parents. You’re just upset that she snapped up the Moretti heir before he came to market.”
“Well it was sudden and unfair,” Chloe pouts. “One day he’s single and unwilling to settle down or entertain marriage offers, the next he’s completely locked down by someone who wasn’t even on the eligibility radar for him.”
“They fell in love—”
“Whatever, not the point.” She folds her arms. “The heir was snatched up, the consigliere remarried when nobody thought he ever would. Half of the older twin set is married, and the other half looks murderous whenever he’s in public. The fashion obsessed, tattooed goofball is a man-slut.”
“Why are you acting like you don’t know their names?”
“It’s fun.” She grins. “But my point is, all of the eldest, AKA the most powerful ones, are all non-options. Except for Leon. He’s an excellent option, he’s hunky, rich, powerful, a gentleman, and quite literally a daddy. I don’t care about the younger single ones, they don’t rank high enough.”
“They’re all rich, though,” I remind her with a shrug. “For them, rank is more responsibility and respect, but not necessarily a better life. I’m sure that being with any of them would make a good life for you.”
“Ugh, you don’t get it.” Chloe groans. “Leon is perfect. He lives in his own house, away from the rest of the family so I won’t need to fight for his attention as much.
Daddy says he lives near the border of North Carolina and Virginia and that his men love him.
We’ll be close enough to drive the rest of his family for holidays and babysitting if we need help. It’s perfect, Kat.”
“I just don’t want you to get your hopes up…”
“I’m a big girl, I’ll be perfectly fine.” She tips up her chin proudly. “Besides, I’m going to have an edge on all of the other girls.”
She’s already planned her advantage?
Of course she has.
Chloe is nothing if not tenacious.
Brows furrowed, I ask, “An edge? What edge?”
“You, silly! None of these other mafia darlings have a best friend as smart and lovable as you by their side. I’m going to get us both into this consideration and you’re going to help fluff me up to the Morettis.
With you singing my praises, they’ll love me just like you love me!
Don’t you see? It’s genius—I’m a genius! ”
“You’re crazy,” I counter with a sputter, mouth dropping open.
“You have no idea what they’ll be looking for, when they’ll be looking for it, or where they’ll be looking and you’re planning to rope me into this?
Are you off your rocker? I won’t scheme to get the Morettis to pick you. Do you want me to be killed?”
“Oh, you’re such a goodie two-shoes. It’s not scheming to be my hype girl. You’ll be there to support me, and it’s not like you’d be lying. You love me, and you see the best in me, you always have. No one is going to kill you for being my friend, silly.”
“There’s no way Linus would agree to send me along with you on whatever mission this is to be your hype girl,” I inform her, still baffled that she’s considering such a thing. “He’d consider it insulting.”
“He’d send you with me if he thought there was even a possibility that Leon Moretti would pick his daughter as a wife,” Chloe disagrees, brushing me off.
My eye twitches hearing her call me his daughter, but I don’t have time to voice my frustration.
“It’ll be fineeeee. You’ll see. You should have more faith in my ideas. ”
“I won’t see anything because it’s not going to happen,” I retort. “For all we know, they already have someone waiting on the sidelines ready to jump in. It’s not worth talking about when we have no idea what’s going to happen.”
“Fine, be grumpy.” She huffs, heading for my bedroom door. “But you’ll see. In a week’s time, I’ll be telling you I told you so, and shopping for our new dresses to meet my future husband.”
“I—” The words of denial die on my tongue as she lets herself out of my room, head still held high.
Something tells me this isn’t going to end well.