Chapter 7
AXEL
"Boss, you've been staring at that same glass for ten minutes."
I blink. Viktor's right—the whiskey's been sitting untouched in my hand, probably warm by now. I set it down.
"Just thinking."
"About what?"
Her. Always her.
"Business," I lie.
It's been a month. One month since Aurora walked out of my penthouse, and I can't stop thinking about her. Can't stop wondering where she is, what she's doing, if she thinks about me the way I think about her.
You're an idiot. She's gone. Move on.
I can't.
"Ready for the Luca meeting?" Viktor asks.
Right. Luca. I've been putting this off for weeks, making excuses about territory issues, about Leo, about anything that requires me to leave the city.
"Yeah." I stand, grab my jacket. "Let's go."
Viktor drives. Sergei rides shotgun, his bulk making the front seat look small. In the back, Alexei's fidgeting with his phone, nervous energy radiating off him.
"First time meeting Don Luca?" I ask the kid.
"Yes, sir." Alexei straightens. "I've heard stories. About the Istanbul job, how you—"
"Alexei," Viktor cuts him off. "Don't bring up Istanbul."
"Why not?"
"Because that's the job that put the boss in prison for seven years, and maybe Don Luca doesn't want to be reminded that Axel took the fall for him."
Silence in the car.
I should probably tell Viktor he's wrong—Luca and I are beyond that now; we're brothers, bonded by blood and history stronger than DNA ever could be.
But I don't. Because part of me is still bitter about those seven years. About what I lost. About what I could have had if I'd made different choices.
I shove the thought away.
We pull up to Luca's estate forty minutes after landing. It's massive—white stone, columns, the kind of wealth that comes from three generations of blood money. Guards at the gate check our credentials and wave us through.
Marco meets us at the entrance. I recognize him—head of Luca's security, former Spetsnaz, loyal as a dog.
"Axel Santego." He doesn't smile, but there's respect in his eyes. "Don Luca's been expecting you."
"Marco. Still keeping my friend alive?"
"Someone has to." He leads us through the foyer, down a hallway lined with expensive art. "He's in his study. Just you, boss. Your men can wait in the sitting room."
Viktor nods. He knows the drill. I follow Marco alone.
Luca's study is exactly what I expected—leather furniture, wall of books he's probably never read, a desk the size of a small car. And behind it, the man himself.
Don Luca.
He's aged since I last saw him. More grey in his hair, lines around his eyes. But he's still got that presence, that command that makes men nervous.
He looks up when I enter. For a second, neither of us moves.
Then he's around the desk, pulling me into a hug that's more tackle than embrace.
"You bastard," he says, slapping my back hard enough to bruise. "Seven years and you couldn't write more than twice?"
"Prison mail gets monitored. Didn't want to give the feds ammunition."
"Still." He pulls back, studies my face. "You look good. Considering."
"You look old."
He laughs. "Raising a daughter will do that to you." He gestures to the chairs. "Sit. Drink. Tell me what you've been up to since you got out."
We settle into the familiar rhythm. Him pouring whiskey—expensive, the kind you sip. Me accepting it even though I've never liked whiskey.
"Territory's stable," I tell him. "Dmitri tried to test me first week out. Made an example of him. No one's been stupid since."
"Good. You always were better at the violent side of our business than me." He takes a sip. "And Leo? How's your boy?"
"Leo's the reason I'm here," I say.
Luca's expression shifts. "Business or personal?"
"Both." I set down the whiskey. "I want to arrange a marriage. Between Leo and your daughter."
The silence stretches.
Luca leans back in his chair, studying me. "You're serious."
"Completely."
"Why?"
"Because Leo is running out of time to course-correct, and I'm running out of patience watching him waste it.
" I lean forward, elbows on my knees. "He's burning through money, through alliances, through goodwill that took me decades to build.
Two months ago he nearly started a war with the Serbians over a poker debt.
A poker debt, Luca. He's twenty-six years old and still playing at being dangerous without understanding what danger actually costs. "
Luca says nothing. He knows about the Serbians.
"A wife grounds a man," I continue. "Not just the companionship — the accountability.
When you have someone at home who depends on you, you start making different calculations.
You stop being reckless because reckless means you might not come back.
" I pause. "God knows I would have benefited from that lesson at his age. "
"You think a woman is going to fix Leo?"
"I think the right woman will make him want to fix himself.
There's a difference." I set down the whiskey.
"And there's the other thing. You and I have been brothers in everything but name for thirty years.
After Istanbul, after everything — our families should be bound officially.
It protects us both. Any man who wants to move against the Santegos has to calculate the Luca family into that equation, and vice versa. "
"And what do you get out of it?"
I think of seven years inside. Of all the things I missed. Of Leo, unsupervised and increasingly stupid. "A son who might finally grow the fuck up. And the knowledge that the alliance I built my life around is permanent."
Luca's quiet for a long time. Then: "My daughter's pregnant."
The words hit like a punch.
"What?"
"She came home from university pregnant. Said she doesn’t know who the father is." His voice is tight, controlled fury. "I sent her to the countryside estate. She's in exile until the baby's born."
Pregnant.
His daughter. The one he mentioned in letters, the one he was so proud of. Smart, educated, studying accounting.
"That changes things," Luca continues. "She's damaged goods now. I was going to arrange a marriage eventually, but this complicates it. Most men won't want—"
"I don't care." The words come out before I can stop them.
Luca blinks. "You don't care that she's pregnant with another man's child?"
"We're not living in the Dark Ages, Luca. She's your daughter. She's educated. In our world, marriage is about alliance, not purity." I lean forward. "Leo's not exactly a prize. If anything, a woman who's already proven she can have children is valuable."
Luca studies me for a long moment. Then he nods slowly.
"You'd take her? Pregnant, disgraced, exiled?"
"I'd take her."
"And Leo? He's okay with this?"
I nearly laugh. "Leo will do what I tell him to do. He doesn't get a choice."
"She's not going to like this."
"She'll adjust." I take the whiskey glass. "They both will."
Luca raises his glass. "To family. And the alliances that bind us."
"To family."
We drink.
But as the whiskey burns down my throat, something sits wrong in my chest.
I run through the logic the way I always do after a decision — checking for weak points, for angles I haven't considered.
The arrangement makes sense. Leo needs structure.
Luca needs an alliance that has teeth. His daughter is educated, capable, from the right bloodline.
The pregnancy is an inconvenience, not a dealbreaker, not in this world.
I've seen men take worse complications for less benefit.
So why does this feel like I've just signed something I can't take back?
I think it has to do with Lucas' daughter not having a choice in this because I’m sure my friend won’t ask for his daughter's permission.
Fucking hell, I’m not sure I know what to think about that.
I arranged the rest of her life and I didn't even ask her name.
In another world, in another version of this, that wouldn't bother me.
In this business, people get arranged all the time.
Daughters traded for alliances. Heirs wed to secure territory.
It's the architecture of power, and I've built inside it my whole life.
But it still bothers me.
I file the feeling away. There's no room for it now.
Once Leo's married and settled, I'll be free. Free to find Aurora — the woman I've been circling back to in my head for a month. Free to track her down wherever she's gone and make her understand that a few days wasn't a beginning and an ending. It was just a beginning.
I'm keeping her. That is the plan now.
"Axel?" Luca's watching me. "You alright? You look distracted."
"I'm fine." I force my attention back. "Just thinking about next steps."
"Well, first step is telling my daughter." He doesn't look happy about it. "She's at the countryside estate. I'll have her brought back for the engagement party. You and Leo can meet her then."
"Sounds good," I say.
We talk details for another hour. Contracts. Timeline. The optics of announcing an alliance between the Santego and Luca families.
By the time I leave, it's dark. Viktor's waiting by the car, Sergei and Alexei passing a cigarette between them.
"How'd it go?" Viktor asks as we drive away.
"It's done. Leo's getting married."
"To Luca's daughter?"
"Yeah."
"Does Leo know?"
"He will." I stare out the window at the passing lights. "Whether he likes it or not doesn't matter. This is happening."
Viktor nods like this makes perfect sense.
I lean back, close my eyes, and try not to imagine how I’ll devour Aurora once I find her.