Chapter 28 – Ilya
B lood dripped from my taped knuckles, creating an intricate pattern on the mat. Adrenaline made my muscles shake. The roar of the crowd increased as I strode to the makeshift locker room. With a whoop of delight, the underboss followed me through the swinging door.
Other fighters shot glances in my direction that ranged from curious to outright malicious. It was second nature to pretend to ignore them while tuning my awareness to their every move.
As I began to unwrap the tape, Tullio barged into the space. He spotted me and began to sing my praises. The son sauntered behind his yammering father, looking over the space with a sneer twisting his lips. Cosimo was young, just over twenty, but there was a glint in his eye that put me on edge. The rumors surrounding him weren’t good.
“Fifty grand!” Tullio clapped his hands together. “You’re a thoroughbred, bear.”
Cosimo snorted.
I shot the kid a look but addressed my statement to his father. “I want in.”
Tullio’s ecstatic ramblings didn’t waver. He talked and talked, giving me the runaround version of a nonanswer. “And as my bodyguard, I don’t see a problem in your participation—”
Cosimo cut his father off. “The capos won’t accept him.”
I forced my jaw to unclench, my muscles to droop.
“They’re royally pissed that you have an unvetted…oaf as your personal lackey. He shouldn’t have access to our business.” Cosimo crossed his arms, daring me to justify my presence.
“What I do with my own guards is none of their concern,” Tullio responded hotly.
Cosimo blatantly ignored his father. “Why do you want in, bear?”
“Money,” I said quickly. “I want real money so I can bet on myself in the ring.”
If the youth bought my hurried reply, it was hard to say. The senior did.
Tullio fondly smacked me on the back and agreed to speak to the don again. “But as my guard, it’s no problem,” he assured me, pulling a plastic key card from his pocket. “Do you know where the Bellagio on Constitution Drive is?”
I took the proffered card and nodded.
“I have a present for you there,” Tullio beamed.
Cosimo let out a disgusted huff and wandered away.
“You’ll have to forgive him, he’s young.” Tullio waved his hand dismissively. “He forgets that I’ve been running the show long before he was a drip on my tip.”
Unable to conceal the flash of annoyance at the familiarity, I turned quickly. I snagged a shirt from the bag and wrenched it over my head. When the underboss first approached me with the offer of sponsorship, I anticipated this very situation and had made provisions for entertaining a lady of the night. It was common for wealthy elites to make sure their fighters were well provided for with every conceivable need.
“Room 3054. Order room service, enjoy yourself,” Tullio said. “I’ll expect you to report for duty tomorrow at noon, so there’s plenty of time for you to unwind.”
“Gee, thank you, sir,” I lisped to hide the strain in my voice.
The fool bought it. I left the exhibition quickly, tapping a message into my phone.
***
The special-order sports car purred down the rows of parked cars. The East Coast’s most notorious woman parked in front of me, the shadows from the supermarket’s parking lot falling over her face. Like everything else Sylvia Laurent did, she’d stopped her vehicle on purpose in this spot. Her hair was captured under a silk scarf and heavy shades covered her eyes.
“I must say, I’m delighted to be doing business with you,” the woman mused.
Many years ago, before she built the empire under the heel of her stiletto, Sylvia was just a girl using a different name.
“It’s been too many years, Ilya.” Behind the shades, I knew her one good eye studied me.
“It has, but at least we stay in touch. Thank you for the Fourth of July card and gift. It was unexpected, seeing as we usually only send each other Christmas and birthday cards.” I leaned against the side of her sports car.
Sylvia shrugged. “I heard you were down in the mouth. Figured a surprise might cheer you up.”
“It did. It also made one of the Vlasov boys very, very jealous.” I patted the sleek finish of the car. “How does this handle, by the way?”
The grin that cracked her polished fa?ade was real enough. “Best damn car I’ve ever driven. Remind me to send you a fruit basket as a thank you.”
“No need,” I chuckled.
Time seemed to stand still as memories rushed to fill the space between us. It seemed the same nostalgia was affecting the businesswoman. An underworld kingpin in her own right, Sylvia was always willing to make a deal.
“What brought you to Jersey, Ilya?” the madam asked softly.
“Destiny.”
Sylvia let out a huff. “I doubt that. But you called me for business—Jerry is about your size and en route to the boutique hotel as we speak. I’ll meet him there with the room key.”
I handed her the plastic card. “He’s to call the room and command her to shut off the lights. The night manager will also shut off the hall lights. He’s to wear a mask and remember to roar when he comes. Dominant—boarding non-consensual. But give the poor hooker a safe word.”
The levels of deception were necessary, but even if Tullio had someone watching the Staybridge to make sure I enjoyed his gift, he wouldn’t have any reason to doubt me.
“She’s not a prostitute,” Sylvia smirked.
I frowned. “My sponsor sent a call girl to reward me for winning the fight.”
That was why I had this arrangement premade with Sylvia. The prostitute was a perk of signing with the underboss. He wanted me happy, but I never wanted to touch another woman. Sylvia’s guy solved that problem.
The grin on the businesswoman’s lips only widened. “I know every lady, gentleman, and other being of the night, friend. This one is none other than a spoilt mafia princess, whose brother runs the Rinaldi Family’s brothel. She’s gone in place of the hooker to experience the Russian bear.”
A cold shudder passed through me. “We need to call it off. She’ll get me in trouble.”
“Or let the little heiress enjoy Jerry, spreading the rumor of your prowess in the circles of mob women?” Sylvia radiated glee.
“They’ll shoot me if the men hear.”
“Mafia men pay very little attention to their wives, even less to their daughters and sisters. If the affair isn’t witnessed by a member of the girl’s family and she doesn’t get pregnant—which she can’t because Jerry is cautious—the only possible outcome is that they beat her for sneaking out. And that you can’t save her from, now that she’s already in the hotel room. Might as well let her have her night of fun.”
“You’re terrible,” I ground out.
“The Made Men aren’t like you Russians, who revere your ladies.” She shifted in her seat. “Now, if there’s nothing else, we’ll call it a night. Don’t go so long without a visit, alright, darling?”
“Alright,” I agreed.
With a roar of her engine, the businesswoman sped into the night. There was too much history dredging up in my mind. Only a powerful distraction could save me from wallowing in the memories of a time when neither Sylvia nor I was free, when war and despair were our reality. I shook my head before I returned to my stolen vehicle to find my own underworld queen. Sylvia didn’t need me to save her, not that she ever had. But someone in this city did, and I answered my siren’s call with eager steps.