Chapter 6
Chapter
Six
Kirill
I strode through the elaborate marble-pillared entrance of my parents’ house and went directly to the outdoor patio where they were having breakfast with my sister.
“Is it true, Kirill? Viktor is dead?” Ivan boomed.
I took my time in answering my father because, frankly, I no longer answered to him.
I was the pakhan of our bratva now. I gave Irina a peck on the top of her head and did the same to Aralina.
My sister signed hello and gestured that I had some explaining to do after showing me the Manhattan Tattler headline on her phone.
“Romeo and Juliet in the making?”
Jesus Christ.
“Did Lucy De Lucci spend the night in your house?” Irina asked me.
“She did.”
I sat at the other end of the table. A maid appeared and poured me a cup of coffee.
“Orange juice, sir?” she asked.
I shrugged. “Sure.” With the way I’d been going without sleep, I needed a tart drink to wake me up.
“Viktor is dead?” Ivan repeated, this time in a calmer but no less impatient voice.
Sometimes to get the behavior I needed from people, ignoring them until they figured out what would get a response from me was the key.
I learned this from one of the Spetsnaz soldiers who trained military dogs during my time in Russia.
“He’s dead. His arrogance cost him.”
“And what did Peter say?”
“I’m surprised you haven’t talked to him.”
“He’s not taking my calls.”
Good man, Peter. He was weighing his options and wanted to preserve our relationship as allies. He didn’t want to alienate our fragile association by giving my father the respect of a pakhan. He was warier now pending my marriage to Lucy.
“It’s a delicate matter for sure,” Irina said. As usual, my mother smoothed things out between my father and me. She usually sensed when one of us was baiting the other. My phone buzzed with a text from Sato.
Sato
Lucy has informed Moretti and De Lucci about the intent to marry. They’re demanding a meeting.
My mouth curved. I texted back.
Me
You can tell them if it’s to null the contract, then it’s a no. They can tell it to my face when I make the request for Lucy’s hand in marriage.
Bubbles and then…
Listen, you POS, you will meet us now or you won’t be able to find my sister anywhere on this planet.
De Lucci? Huh, kindly put Sato back on the line. If you don’t, then poor Sato will be missing a finger for even handing you his phone.
And…
There was nothing for a few seconds. It could have been a whole minute.
Now I wondered if I had made the right move by showing them the violence I was capable of.
But was that even in doubt? I was bratva.
However, I wouldn’t chop off Sato’s finger.
His dexterity was an asset to my organization, but he should never have handed his phone over, no matter how surrounded he was by the Italian mafia.
Something bounced off my head.
I looked up to see my sister eyeing me with impatience before my gaze fell on the half-eaten scone that landed on the slate stone tiles.
“Why show up here if you’re going to play on your phone?” she signed.
“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t have something important to announce.” I looked pointedly at the scone. “And you’re wasting food.”
She gestured that it was hard as a rock and then waved around her. “The birds will eat it.”
“That can’t be healthy for them.”
She rolled her eyes and snatched a piece of bacon from the plate.
If I had any emotion remotely related to affection, I would say I was fond of Aralina.
She was the only person in the family who got away with sassing me.
Any interaction with her partly assuaged the guilt that I wasn’t around when the house fire stole her voice.
She’d been only twelve. The doctor initially chalked it up to the smoke inhalation and raw vocal cords, but after weeks went by, we all became concerned.
Ivan and Irina tried to send her to specialists, but it only stressed her out and made her more withdrawn.
She started coming out of her shell when she started college.
Ivan waited patiently for my exchange with my sister to end before asking, “Is there something else besides Viktor’s death you want to tell me?”
He didn’t know I knew about his secret meetings with Davenport, but I didn’t feel like opening that can of worms right now. Anya would eventually get me what I needed: buried inside those Davenport files was ammunition I needed to keep my father in line.
I sipped coffee. “Have you seen the news in the Manhattan Tattler?”
“I don’t check that trash,” Ivan said. “I don’t know why you’re messing around with De Lucci’s sister. Besides, I’m not sure I want anything to do with that family after De Lucci rejected your sister.”
Aralina rolled her eyes again and signed furiously at Ivan. “I don’t like flashy men. I’m glad he found someone else.”
“You should have objected sooner and saved us the embarrassment.”
My sister’s gaze dropped to her plate, her cheeks flushing into a pink that clashed with her light blonde hair. Her emotions were high, so I knew I should step in.
“I don’t feel embarrassed,” I said. “Do you feel embarrassed, Mama?”
“Of course not.” Irina scowled at my father. “It was Lucy’s mother who wanted those properties on the Amalfi Coast as dowry and suggested the union.”
“I was doing my duty as your daughter,” my sister signed, finding her courage. “At least now I know I have a choice.”
“Of course, you always have a choice,” Ivan said in a wounded voice. “I would never force you into a marriage. You are my treasure, Arinka. My only daughter and I love you so much.”
“I love you too, Papa,” Aralina signed and smiled.
I was glad Ivan never said those words to me because I didn’t think I could utter them back without vomiting.
Ivan gave an exaggerated huff, as if the affectionate words from Aralina made his heart balloon with so much emotion he had to make room for more. I was good at this. Interpreted emotion so I could telegraph how to react to it.
“Going back to De Lucci’s sister. If that is to get back at her for the problems she caused us, it’s not worth the wrath from the Italians.”
He meant at least three of the Five Families of New York and Chicago. True. They would be a lot to take on.
“I’m not messing around, Ivan.”
There was something in my tone that made my family freeze. Ivan’s eyes narrowed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Clear your schedule tomorrow.” It was a Sunday, and typically Ivan didn’t go anywhere anyway except spend it with family. I stood up. “We’re going to pay a visit to Paulo and Carlotta De Lucci.”
I didn’t want to discuss the details of how to approach my future in-laws. I would leave that to my mother and Margo to make the arrangements.
“Oh my God,” Irina whispered. I didn’t like the way her eyes sparkled with happiness. This wasn’t a love match. This was purely business and my planned revenge.
“You’re getting married?” Aralina signed frantically.
“Yes, Arinka,” I said. I glanced at my parents, who appeared to be still in shock.
“The wedding is in a month.” The quicker we signed the marriage contracts, the less time Lucy or her wily relatives would find a way out of it.
I needed a wife.
She was perfect. She had the looks, the brains, the pedigree, but my aversion to her other qualities would make sure I maintained enough distance for myself.
After we said our vows, I would make sure she would really hate me. I would relish my revenge, but she wouldn’t be able to escape.
“That’s too soon! There are reservations to be—” My mother paused as realization hit her. “Margo is handling everything?”
“As we speak. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m needed elsewhere.” The confidence that I had in the situation flagged a bit when I thought about the De Luccis and Morettis conspiring against me. No, I made sure Lucy understood the stakes.
I arrived at her Upper East Side residence before ten that morning.
I wondered what the Italians had in store for me.
Sato was increasingly getting agitated in our messages.
I’d put him in an unfamiliar situation. That was what happened when you muzzled an attack dog.
He wasn’t allowed to harm my future in-laws. At least, not yet.
I had other soldiers behind me. Sato was waiting in front of Lucy’s apartment building when I drove up. The relief on his face was palpable. I almost felt sorry for him.
I double-parked in front of another car, got out and signaled and nodded to the soldiers behind me to take care of it.
I rarely hid my expression behind sunglasses.
My sister once said that my eyes rarely gave away what I was thinking.
The Moscow mob trained me very well when my father exiled me to Russia with the hopes I would live up to his expectations.
Be a weapon for the mob. Well, he got more than he bargained for, didn’t he?
Besides making sure I grew up to be a hardened man fitting of the bratva, the men who trained me beat empathy and emotion out of me.
I had to relearn these things when I returned. Relearn how to act like a human being.
Fuck, I missed Kolya. I missed staring into his soulless eyes that were as blank as mine. He reminded me we were the same. Forged in the iciness and harshness of a Russian training camp.
Sato, meanwhile, showed every emotion except when he was about to kill someone. He was always the person aside from Aralina who was brave enough to remind me to smile. Like right now, I could tell he was about to chasten me before I reached him on the sidewalk.
“Pakhan,” he said solemnly, before he leaned in. “Would you—”
“Smile? I know, but why would I smile at De Lucci’s lackeys?” Especially when they were glaring at me as if I’d debauched their princess. What I did and what I was good at doing was smirk. It frequently irritated my opponents.
Sato sighed.
“What?”
“This would go easier if you were less…”
“Less like myself?”
“Well, more human.”