16. Nik
The next few weeks with Luna are awkward. For several days I barely see her, and when I do run into her, she’s quiet and often reading.
It doesn’t help I got all cryptic on her.
I hadn’t seen that photo since I moved in, I’m not even sure how it ended up with my bathroom stuff.
In her mind, she was doing me a favor. Pulling out a lost memory. Saving a piece of my childhood. She doesn’t know I’d be okay never seeing that picture again.
“You and Nikolai should find something else to do this afternoon,” I hear my father say to my mother. I pause to listen before I round the corner to the kitchen.
“Why? Viktor, please, tell me you’re not?—”
“It has to be done, Anna. The pakhan has asked me to handle this interrogation. Stay out of the basement when you get home.”
“What about me? Do you care?—”
“Nyet. Enough,” my father growls, and I choose that moment to make myself known.
I pad into the kitchen and help myself to a glass of water. My parents don’t say anything to each other. My father’s warm, earthy eyes rove over me and I shrug, offering him a smile.
My mother always tells me I shrug when I’m uncomfortable—she says a professional told her that. That, in some way, I’m uncertain. I don’t feel uncertain. But when my father moves to ruffle the hair on my head, I shrug again and he turns, without another word, to leave.
“Nikolai. Would you like to take a picnic to the park this afternoon?” my mother asks.
I nod enthusiastically. “Da. Can I bring my baseball glove?”
“Da.” She laughs. “Get your stuff and I’ll make our lunch.”
We leave our townhouse and walk to the park. It’s only ten minutes away. Luka and I snuck out there once; on his seventh birthday, six months ago. We had no plans, just wanted to see if we could. Unfortunately, the pakhan sent four guards after us, and Mr. Morozov told Luka he had to start acting like a future pakhan.
I asked my dad about it—about what that meant for Luka. He didn’t answer me right away, only stared out the window as if lost in thought. His last words about it were, “It’s Vladimir’s job to ensure a strong Bratva leadership. As it is mine to ensure a long-lasting line of loyal service.”
The heat beats down on my forehead as I lug the picnic basket through the park’s tree-lined paths. A dog walker wrestles with four dogs of different sizes, the largest trying to chase a squirrel and pulling the whole lot with him.
The chuckle I let out is overpowered by the laughter of several children playing a game of tag in the open grassy area. Lots of people are spread out with blankets and food. There’s even a man in a business suit, seated on a gray wool blanket, with a closed pizza box in his hand. It’s as if he’s waiting for something.
“Where’d you like to sit, Nikolai?” my mother asks as her eyes scan the large park.
I point to a nearby tree, its roots jutting out of the ground in twisted directions.
She nods and moves to unfold the blanket she has clutched in her arms. Then, opening the picnic basket, she pulls out bologna and cheese sandwiches and a bag of pretzels. She also pulls out some cherry tomatoes to snack on, and I wrinkle my nose.
“Nikolai, slow down,” she chides when I try to eat as fast as I can so I have time to play catch. Scanning the park, I search for anyone who may want to play with me, but I come up short.
I turn, swallowing the last of my bologna sandwich to ask my mother if she’ll toss the ball for me, but pause when I notice her tear-filled eyes. She’s watching something.
Looking to where her gaze has settled, I watch the man in the business suit open the pizza box and three sets of little hands flood it. He laughs as three toddlers all reach for a piece. A woman behind them giggles as she passes out paper plates. The man stands to kiss her. But instead of a quick peck, the kiss lingers and she wraps her arms around his middle. When she pulls back, she rests her head on his chest and they stay that way.
My mother continues to watch them, and a single tear floats down her cheek. I shrug.
“Want to play catch with me?” I ask. Please say yes, please say yes, please say?—
“Nyet, Nikolai.” She wipes her hand across her cheek, smearing more tears that have fallen.
I sigh. “Okay.”
I scramble up, tossing a pretzel into my mouth before moving to play catch by myself. I toss the baseball as high as I can into the air and snatch it in my glove when it comes back down.
Tiny laughs bubble out of the toddlers as their father chases them. The wind carries his suit jacket open, and his tie flaps over his shoulder, but he doesn’t even seem to notice. He growls and lunges, smiling while fulfilling the monster role.
Rolling the ball around in my glove, I hesitate to toss it again. Instead, I walk back over to where my mother is sitting and plop down. It’s no fun playing catch by yourself.
She smiles wide as she reads a message on her phone. Her grin stretches high on her face, and I try to remember the last time I saw her look so happy.
“Mom, do you know?—”
“Hold on, Nikolai. I’m busy,” she says, furiously typing on her phone.
I scoot back, leaning against the massive oak to wait. When she’s finished, she looks to me and asks, “What do you want, Nikolai?”
I chew on my lip and shrug. “Do you know if Dad ever played monster chase with me?”
My eyes betray where my question came from, as they dart to the man still playing with his kids. Even while they climb all over him like a jungle gym, he still laughs and doesn’t seem to grow tired.
Mother levels me with a look. “Your father doesn’t have to pretend to be a monster.”
Luna’s heart was in the right place and that bothers me.
It shouldn’t thrill me that she took the time to think about me. I shouldn’t relish the fact that she’s been buying my favorite protein bars when I run low. And she’d reinjured her burn—why is that so maddening?
I need an escape from all this. A distraction.
Since it’s Friday night, I pop over to the bar with Dmitry and Igor. It’s a lounge we often frequent in the heart of Manhattan’s Meatpacking District, steps from the High Line Park.
The well-dressed doorman, aware of our standing reservations, greets us with a warm smile. The centerpiece of the lounge is a masculine, handcrafted bar that bends into a circle while the liquor shelves extend to the ceiling. Its rich, dark mahogany wood stands out, and the shelves are backlit with the same golden hue present in the plush leather seating.
I love this place because you can’t sit at the bar—they don’t have seating there—and it keeps the whole cluttered vibe you experience at many nightclubs at bay. Plus, with plentiful high-top tables, along with the selectiveness of who can enter, it’s rare you have to wait for a server.
“First round is on me,” Dmitry says, as we head for the bar.
I slap Dmitry on the shoulder and smirk at the nearest blonde waitress glancing my direction. The bar has two specialty drinks tonight. An aged bourbon, smoked with cherrywood with a hint of orange blossom added. And also, a rare rye whiskey with black cherry bitters. Both of those sound terrible.
“Vodka neat,” I toss out to the young bartender. Once we have our drinks, we make our way to an empty table surrounded by several red leather armchairs.
“Surprised to get you out tonight,” Igor says, placing his glass on a cocktail napkin in front of him.
“Da. Thought with you being a married man now you’d get as boring as Luka.” Dmitry chuckles at himself. But I don’t laugh.
Most of the men consider Luka stoic and cold while still being as excellent pakhan. When Kate came into his life, she changed him. He’s more relaxed and approachable. Definitely more compassionate. Most of the Bratva welcomed this change—some, however, did not.
I think Kate is the best thing to ever happen to Luka. She’s perfect for him. They challenge each other, and they’re truly a powerhouse couple. It’s great. For him.
“Nah. You know me,” I say, winking at the waitress who can’t take her eyes off me. “I wouldn’t ever truly settle down. It’s all alliances and arrangements.”
I lift my glass to my brothers, and they do the same. My smirk fades when I glimpse my black ring through the glass. It’s an annoying presence, but one I can’t seem to shake.
I toss back the vodka I’d planned on sipping and wipe my mouth with my knuckles. The burn of liquor rivals the burn in my chest. I raise my empty glass at the beautiful blonde who’s leaning against the bar and twirling her hair around her pointer finger. She smiles and swishes over to refill my glass.
Thisis what I need.
When I wake the next morning, I immediately know I’ve slept in too late. The blaring lights are making my head pound, and I reach over to the nightstand to switch off the lamp. Instead, I turn it on, effectively giving myself a minor brain aneurysm.
Why is it so bright?
The sun peeks through the trees, casting shadows along the floor. Face twisted to the side in my pillow, I groan, willing my body to move. Water is a must—I’m parched, and my tongue is stuck to the roof of my mouth.
When I finally lift my head a fraction, I notice Luna’s spot in bed is empty. My stomach rolls. I tilt my head towardthe bathroom, exposing the ear that was smashed into my pillow to hear if the shower is running. I don’t hear anything.
Grabbing my phone, I check the time, and my eyes widen.
Damn it. 11 a.m.
I open a text from Luka informing me he’d like to meet later this afternoon, and I barely manage to type out the reply telling him I can be there around four. Crawling from the bed, I drag myself to the shower and let the water and soap wash the lingering scent of alcohol and bar stench from my body.
When I feel seminormal, I throw on my suit pants and a navy button-down wishing I could wear sweatpants. Emerging from the bedroom, I seek out Luna. I make two laps around the apartment, darting from the living room to the kitchen without any luck. I quench my dry mouth, then take the stairs two at a time to speak with Frank.
He isn’t in his usual spot.
Where is everyone?
The main warehouse is quiet. We usually don’t have many men here on the weekend, but still. As I move through the remainder of the building, laughter sprinkles in through the open back door. I jog toward the lush sound. Once outside, I curse the sun as it blinds me.
Then I spot Lev and Luna chatting beneath a shaded tree.
“Good afternoon, sir.” Frank’s voice scares me from where he leans against the building, and I practically jump, diverting my eyes from where Luna sits.
“Frank.” I nod at him and cross my arms. My gaze shifts back to Luna, and I will her to look at me.
Why? Why do you care?
After what feels like twenty minutes, I stalk over to the two of them. They’re sitting on a small blanket, and I notice two disposable coffee cups when I get closer. A book is propped open next to Luna, the gentle breeze rustling the pages.
Was she so captivated by Lev that she decided to forgo her book? I clear my throat and Luna’s eyes dart to mine. Lev’s, however, linger on Luna a second longer before he turns to me.
“Nik,” Luna says, “how are you feeling?”
I raise my eyebrows at her. How am I feeling? What was that question supposed to mean?
I don’t have to wait long for an answer, because Lev chuckles out, “Yeah, Boss, you came home plastered last night. Frank and I had to escort you to your room.”
A brief memory of Igor driving me home comes back to me, and I groan, realizing I left my car in the city. Now I’ll have to have someone drive me back for it—Frank is the promising candidate.
“I’m fine,” I clip out, and Luna offers me a smile. “You make an early Saturday morning coffee run, Lev?”
I ask him this while staring at Luna. Her hand twitches around her paper cup. A small bit of light pink gloss lines the rim where she’s put her mouth.
“I figured Luna—I mean, Mrs. Balakin—could use a cup after being woken by us last night. Figured she might not have slept the best after that.” He offers her a sweet smile and I immediately change my mind. Lev can drive me today.
“Lev found me out here reading this morning,” Luna says as she stands, book and coffee in hand.
“What did you get?”
Where the hell did that come from?Whydo I want to know what kind of coffee she gets?
“A vanilla latte. I could only drink half of it, though.” She steps an inch closer to me, and it’s a small step away from Lev—I’m oddly satisfied by that.
“Half, you say?” I reach for the cup, my fingers grazing hers. Her grip tightens on the cup for a moment before releasing it to me. I watch her as I bring the drink to my mouth, covering the spot where she had her lips with mine. Her eyes widen before they dart to the grass.
“It’s probably cold. I could go make some fresh coffee if you’d like?” She shuffles on her feet, her book absently tapping her thigh.
“Nah, I’m all set now.”
I offer her a wide grin and turn on my heel to get ready for the commute into the city. Once I’m back through the door, I down the beverage, Luna’s mouth flashing through my mind.
I don’t even like coffee.
“We need to go meet our suppliers,” Luka says, to Igor and me. I grimace. Since when do our suppliers summon us?
“What for?”
“We need to have the Cosa Nostra armed with quality weapons. Salvatore has placed a large order, and I want to personally ensure our suppliers get it right.”
That doesn’t make sense to me. When I approached Luka last year about this new supplier, we were the only ones in the US doing business with them.
“Why doesn’t Salvatore find his own suppliers?”
Luka’s gaze narrows on me. “He isn’t going straight to our suppliers. We are supplying the weapons and Buscetta is trusting us to come through for him. He’s paying, as would anyone else purchasing from us. But this alliance means something, Nikolai. You know this more than anyone. I want to ensure this order gets prioritized.”
I nod, feeling like shit. I want this alliance to work. Sometimes it’s hard to keep that in perspective with a certain beautiful brunette in my bed every night.
“We leave tonight. Go home, grab a bag and meet me at the airfield. I want to be wheels up at 10 p.m.”
I stand, beating Igor to the door. When I reach my car, I peel out of the city and head back to my sanctuary. Halfway there, it hits me. This trip will leave Luna alone by herself.
The sun crests above the warehouse as I pull into the driveway, the last of its light peering through the surrounding pines. I take the stairs two at a time, grateful there isn’t any smoke wafting down to greet me. As I open the door, a delicious smell reaches my nose, and I breathe in deep before stopping in my tracks.
Luna stands at the kitchen sink, washing a head of lettuce. Her left leg is raised, the bed of her foot pressed to the opposite leg’s thigh—it reminds me of a yoga pose. I skim up her leggings and large sweater to her hair, which is pulled back in a long ponytail. There are earbuds pressed in her ears, and she’s mumbling the lyrics to whatever she’s listening to.
Light filters through the living room windows, creating the perfect glow around her.
I don’t want to move.
Unfortunately, I have a flight to catch. I shake off my stupidity, moving into the apartment and letting the door slam behind me.
She jumps and water splashes over her sweater. Her face relaxes when she sees me, a hand removing an earbud. She offers me a half smile.
“Sorry, I didn’t realize you were there.” She shifts on her feet, reaching for a towel. “I compromised and ordered some chicken. I’m tossing a salad, too, if you’re hungry.” As if unable to meet my eyes, hers dart to the TV, back to the kitchen counter, to the side window, then finally to me—and I track every movement.
“I’m passing through. Luka wants us on a plane to Moscow tonight. I need to grab a few things.”
“Oh, okay.” Wiping her palms on her thighs, she gnaws the inside of her lip.
I march to the bedroom and pull the small divider closed. After tossing several shirts and pants into my duffel, I freshen up and pull a suit jacket out of the closet to match the pants I’m wearing.
With the last of my things packed up, I return to the kitchen. Luna is leaning against the counter, eating a piece of lettuce. Worry lines pepper her face, her eyebrows nearly meeting as she frowns. Unease settles deep in my chest. This is uncharted territory for me.
“You could go stay with your parents?” I ask. “If you’re uncomfortable here, Frank or Lev could take you.”
As soon as the words “Lev” and “could take you” leave my mouth, I regret them. My grip tightens on my duffel, and my back teeth grind together.
“I, uh, would prefer not to go home. Is—is it okay if I stay here?”
I’d assumed going home would be a comfort to her, and I’m confused as to why a daughter would prefer to stay alone than with her flesh and blood. Her comments about a mother’s love, and the tears she’d blinked away that night poke at the back of my mind.
The gnawing on her lip is driving me insane, and I toss my duffel, opting to stride over to her. I cup the side of her face, my fingertips pressing lightly into her soft cheeks, the supple skin begging me to keep touching her. I thumb her bottom lip out from under her teeth. Her eyes widen with shock, but, as a bonus, her frown turns up.
“Luna, this is your place now. You can stay if you want.”
I force myself to step away. Hell, I shouldn’t have touched her.
I walk back to grab my duffel then head toward the door. My pace slows with each stride. Indecision wars within me, and I exhale heavily.
Screw it.
“Do you want to come?”
I’m going to be in so much shit. I’m equal parts relieved and angry that I asked the question. Part of me wants her to say no. To tell me to have a safe flight and that she’ll see me when I get home. But another part of me, one that’s growing terrifyingly strong, wants her to say yes. To want to come. Plus, the thought of Lev here with her—nyet.
“Um, is that allowed?” she asks. It’s an excellent question, one I know the answer to as hell no, but I shrug.
“Probably not, but Luka would understand if you’d feel more comfortable.”
“Would you mind? I’ll stay out of your way, I just—” She glances around the apartment, a nervous twitch dotting her features. “I just—” She can’t finish her sentence. Although, there’s no reason for her to. I know what she needs.
“Get a bag packed.”
With Luna sitting in the seat next to me, I pull into the private airport and drive right to the jet on the tarmac. My heart beats faster as I come to terms with what I’m about to do.
I give her an easy smile, trying to mask my undoubtedly apparent nerves. Ready to get this over with, I open the door and step out.
Luka is on the phone with someone as he waits on the bottom steps of the plane. He looks over and lifts a hand to wave, his face instantly going stone cold. Luna’s door slams, and that infuriating scent of hers dangles like a carrot in front of me as she walks my way.
I lead her over to the steps and pause as Luka holds up a hand to me, finishing his phone call. “Love you, too, Kate.”
When he hangs up, his eyes glare at me, then he grabs my elbow pulling me to the side. Luna stays put, eyes lowered to the asphalt, her hands crumpled into fists around her small bag.
“What the hell is this?” Luka demands. At least he has the decency to ask in a hushed tone.
“Luka, I’m sorry, but when I told her I was leaving, she looked lost.”
“She isn’t a stray cat, Nikolai. She’s your wife. She could’ve stayed with her parents or Kate if she was uncomfortable.”
He reprimands me, and it takes all my willpower and strength to just take it. This is the pakhan speaking to me, not Luka. I don’t have much more of an explanation to offer. In fact, I’m slightly concerned with the current state of my brain chemistry. What was I thinking?
“I mentioned her family. She said no. It was my idea to bring her, Boss.”
“It’s dangerous, Nik. Why do you think I leave Kate when we have these meets?”
A chill races through my veins. I hadn’t thought of that. Now I’m concerned for her safety and annoyed at myself that I let her affect me so much.
“What do you want me to do? I can call Frank to come get her.” I take out my phone, but Luka reaches out and lowers it, looking me straight in the eye.
“She can come, Nik, but I need you focused.” Luka smirks. “Who knows, maybe she will be useful.”
A growl threatens to vibrate from my chest. I shove it back down.
Who am I?
We board the private plane, and I show Luna to one of the four seats on the right. She plops down, not saying a word. Igor gives me a knowing smirk while standing at the bar near the rear of the plane. He raises his glass of liquor at me. Flipping him off, I move to the bar and grab a drink for myself, debating on whether I should offer one to Luna.
Luka sits down in one of the chairs surrounding the table and gestures for Igor and me to follow suit. We have security measures to go over before we land. Loyal guards will be waiting for us in Moscow to escort us to Luka’s family property where we stay during our visits. Splinter groups, in distinct opposition to the Bratva, have always been challenging, and they seem to especially love taking advantage when we’re in town.
Luka outlines our schedule. I nod and listen, but find my gaze keeps snagging on Luna, who has pulled out a book. The dust jacket is torn, but she smooths her hand over the front cover reverently.
My fascination continues to grow for this woman who has infiltrated my life and my thoughts so quickly and easily. What kind of life has she lived?
Luna’s fairly reserved, but every so often I get a glimpse of the ball of fire beneath the surface—like when she kissed me during our wedding. Her moments of silent rebellion tug at me. I want to tease and play with her; to know what makes her tick, or how to coax a genuine, gut-wrenching laugh from her.
Lev seems to have an idea. I sneer, toying with the idea of chopping off his hands so he can’t bring her coffee anymore.
After an hour in the air, Luna’s eyes flutter and blink closed. The book she only read a few chapters of, falls to her lap.
A piece of hair falls over her face as her head lulls to the side, and I ball my fist with the desire to sweep it away.
Gritting my teeth, I turn back to Luka and Igor.