Chapter 37 – Ilya
T he strains of music filled the theater. The heads of the Rinaldi Mafia seemed serene as they watched the stage. The music was composed by one of Russia’s greatest talents, but the notes were new to me. The soldiers of the Vlasov Bratva did not spend their free time in cultured events such as theater, opera, or ballet. Dimitri and Kazimir had developed a recent taste for the arts due to the women in their lives—and Luka never missed an opportunity to tag along. But that was just because the little shit liked to pick the pockets of the wealthy. It was a game to him.
This was where the Italian mobs differed. They wore their wealth. They polished their appearance. They moved amongst the upper echelons of society.
Even when their captains were falling like dominos.
If I hadn’t been summoned to guard a paranoid underboss, the last of the five original capos would be dead already. Well, no matter. He wouldn’t survive the night, no matter how many goons he’d ordered to act as guards.
Neither would the underboss.
It was as if Tullio sensed his time was coming to an end. He shifted in his seat.
That’s right, old man. Do you feel death? He’s waiting in the shadows, he’s nodding to me, he’s impatient for me to strike you down.
While it would be difficult, given the increased security measures the underboss had taken, it wouldn’t be impossible.
Don Aldo raised two fingers, wiggling them in the universal signal to come. A soldier moved to his boss, but then a finger pointed at me.
Sighing at the outright rudeness of conducting business while the beautiful swan struggled against the evil witch on stage, I moved to the don’s side and knelt.
“Signor Bruno?” I whispered.
“I would like you to come with me to the house tonight,” the don said, not quietly enough for my liking.
I nodded slowly. This was a new twist. The pair of beady eyes boring an uneasy glance in my direction confused me more. Did Tullio not know what his boss wanted me for? The pair were as thick as thieves so the fact that there were any secrets between them was surprising.
“Of course, sir,” I clipped.
“It’s time we discuss the steps to your initiation into the family,” the don continued, his words an insult to the dancers who’d no doubt worked hard their whole lives to glide on their tippy toes across the stage.
“I look forward to it,” I lied.
This offer changed my evening plans.
The don flicked his fingers, dismissing me.
Scowling internally, I returned to the wall. I resisted the urge to crack my neck. That would give away that these little Italians were pissing me the hell off. My glance swept over the theater, and I made sure anyone looking would see a good little bodyguard doing his work, not a trained fighter ready to end his enemies.
***
“Go ahead. Boss is waiting for you,” the guard at the front steps instructed.
Giving him a short nod, I jogged up the steps and pushed the thick slab of carved would open. It might be the middle of the night, but the lights blazed brightly to defy the dark. It had been this way every night this week, which made creeping around the property annoyingly difficult.
It’s all because of me. A dark chuckle rang through my mind. The monster they were so scared of was the one they let walk through the front door.
In case the cameras above the front door were being monitored, I refused to look anywhere but across the foyer. The stairs and hall above called to me, beckoning me to ascend and find the princess in her gilded cage. She hadn’t come to the ballet. It was just the don with the underboss. They’d met with several prominent businessmen before the performance, chatted with various dignitaries during intermission, and spent a full two hours rubbing elbows after the swan took her final bow. Nothing of interest happened. I wasn’t overly familiar with the criminal underworld players here on the East Coast, but few of the polished individuals had the look of crime lord about them. They were too clean, too pretty .
That didn’t mean they were model citizens—oh, hell no. They’d been making back door deals with mobsters, most on purpose with only a few not alluding to Don Aldo’s true colors.
The whole ordeal was tedious. Several more well-placed bullets and my swan could fly free of her curse.
With me.
Those holding her captive would never win.
Thoughts of our future shifted into wonderment as to what she was doing right now. I resisted the urge to look up as I passed the sweeping staircase that branched in two directions. She was the second door if I went right at the top of the stairs.
Did Isabella like ballet? I would take her. Would she want me to travel to Europe or go to the sandy, tropical paradises? Both those places would be heavenly with her. She had pictures of faraway destinations collected and glued in a large book, which led me to gift her the new travel journal. I understood now that she hated it when she thought she was stuck here, when she thought she was shackled to the don’s son. Would she want it back now? I could try. But even if she didn’t want to travel, the coziness about every aspect of her life made me excited for evenings before a fireplace while the snow fell outside, and the wind wailed off Lake Michigan.
So long as it was with her….
Soon. We’ll fly away soon, little siren.
The house was eerily quiet as I walked down the hall. My other senses opened, which was how I sensed the group waiting around the corner. I slowed my steps, loosening my frame.
Did these fools really think they could jump me?
“Come out and face me,” I said quietly.
Three of them would have been easy. Six, armed to the teeth, was a better challenge.
“What is this?” I demanded.
A lighter flicked. “My underboss speaks highly of you.”
Don Aldo puffed on a cigar, stepping out of a darkened room. His gaze roved down my body, the bags under his eyes twitching. I kept my face carefully blank, and it focused on a spot on the floor. He was losing his feeble grip over the kingdom—that didn’t belong to him. Any threat, even a subtle gesture, might raise the alarm in his mind.
“We know nothing about you except….” He puffed on the cigar, savoring the smoke and letting the moment draw out for dramatic effect. “You’re new to town.”
“I am,” I said with a shrug.
“Who do you work for?” the don demanded.
“Mr. Fabrizi sponsored me, but he’s been promising me more money if I want the work.” There was always the possibility that they would capture me and torture me, all because they believed I was their enemy.
And they would be right. Torture couldn’t break me, only prolong their destruction, while increasing the odds that I make their deaths slow and painful, instead of the quick bullets I’d so mercifully placed in the hearts and skulls of their comrades.
“Has Mr. Fabrizi told you who we are?” Don Aldo gestured with his hand to the kitchen.
I began walking, feeling rather than watching the goons follow me. “No, because he’s not stupid.”
“So do you understand what he’s offering you?” the boss asked from behind his wall of men.
I shrugged. “You’re a powerful businessman, and you have employees that are willing to fight for you in exchange for a crap-ton of money.”
That innocent explanation, delivered with a bored, languid drawl, produced a wave of chuckling from the men.
The kitchen was empty. I walked to the middle of the room, putting my back to a wall so that I could keep all the entrances in my line of sight as well as the windows. The six men fanned out around the space, with their boss in the center.
“What are you willing to do? For untold wealth?” The don took out a cereal bowl and tapped the end of his cigar on it.
My princess had eaten from that bowl. I had to force the muscles in my fingers to relax and keep from fisting.
The words changed on the tip of my tongue, falling out differently than I intended. “I’ve been fighting my whole life. It would be nice to fight for something worthwhile.”
Truer words had never been spoken.
I was a man fighting for his future.
The don nodded approvingly. “I’m going to have to ask that you remove your jacket and your shirt.”
“I’m not wearing a wire, if that’s what you’re worried about.” I shrugged the suit jacket off my shoulders and began unbuttoning the undershirt.
Degrading. This whole dominance scene was demeaning. I ran a profitable nightclub, was an important player in a criminal organization, but before that, I’d clawed my way to the top ranks of a mercenary army after surviving hell in a war camp I’d been sold to as a child.
Stripping naked before this man was a new low.
It’s for her….
“You’d be a dead man if you wore a wire,” the don chuckled, puffing on his cigar. “No, I’m looking for gang signs. You’re full of ink.”
My finger fumbled over a button. There was nothing that should be able to give me away, but I ran through a mental list of what I’d had marked on my skin over the years. I couldn’t shoot them all before they poked a few holes in me. No, if they questioned anything, I would have to make myself very convincing.
The best lies were rooted in truth.
One of the goons approached, flashlight in hand. “I won’t touch if you cooperate,” he grumbled.
Smart man. I kept my arms hung loose at my sides. He made a careful examination of my skin as the don kept talking.
“You’ll be an associate, working for us, but not offered the same privileges and protection. You’ll answer to Christophoro, and we’ll be keeping a close eye on you.” The don took a long puff on his cigar.
“How long before I can make real money?” I asked, finding it hard to ignore the flashlight man peering at my skin.
“Right away, but it could take years to prove your loyalty to us,” Don Aldo said with a dismissive wave of his hand.
“This one, what is this bear claw on your back? It’s covering a nasty scar,” flashlight asked.
I barked a rough laugh. “The beast who nearly killed me.”
Flashlight hummed. “He’s clean, but damn, this work is impressive.”
It was. I thanked whatever stroke of luck in the past prevented me from inking something symbolic of the life of crime I led. The Vlasov Bratva didn’t have a seal or symbol, but there were other images that could have given away my loyalties.
“Sorry for the precaution, Elijah, but we can never be too careful,” the don muttered. “As far as guarding Signor Fabrizi, you’ll do that only when Christophoro doesn’t have a job for you.”
“Understood.” I snatched my shirt off the counter.
The click of a bullet being chambered made me flick a glance in the don’s direction. He wasn’t aiming at me, but the threat was implied all the same.
“If you betray us, if you talk, you’ll wish for this.” He brandished the weapon. “I’m not a forgiving man. Cross me once, and you’re done.”
When I strike, you won’t even see me coming. “I would expect nothing less.”
The don threw open his arms. “Benvenuto alla Famiglia, Elijah.”
Various rumbles of the same sentiment ran around the room. Before I could storm out of there, I had to endure an hour of conversation with my supervisor. Christophoro was thorough, albeit a moody little fucker. If I thought I was annoyed by the delay in ending the mob before, it was nothing to the riotous feelings bubbling through me as I walked out the front door just after sunrise.
I headed straight for the gym, where the bag received not a drop of mercy. I should have been delighted my ploy to infiltrate the mob had worked so well. But I no longer needed the access to accomplish my goals. And now, instead of taking Isabella away in a matter of days, I wouldn’t be able to for a week at least.