Chapter 18 Igor
EIGHTEEN
IGOR
THE PAST
The same night
Imassage shampoo into Julian’s hair and his body sags against mine, warm not only from the water sluicing over us, but from something simply him.
He hums contentedly. I feel it vibrate inside me, all the way to my toes. His own calm soothes the storms constantly rumbling inside my head. When he’s near, and we’re so close like this, it’s like we’re in a bubble and the thunder isn’t so overwhelming anymore.
“That was so powerful, baby.”
“Thank you. For gifting me your surrender.”
He turns in my arms, looping his hands behind my neck and pulling me down for a sweet kiss. It’s nothing like the urgency I’ve felt earlier. It’s a soft exploration. Wet lips against wet lips. A simple moment frozen in time for us to enjoy.
When we’re dry and clothed, we make our way to the kitchen downstairs.
The house is silent and dark. It’s my favourite time to be awake at the Moretti mansion. The walls and corridors welcome me with stillness and a solitude I appreciate.
There’s always one other soul I meet at this hour.
Entering the room illuminated by the small light above the stove, I go directly to Mammona and kiss her on the cheek. She’s nursing her night cap. I glance at the clock above the large table. Midnight. That’s her time.
“What are you still doing up, Mimi?” Julian asks her and sits next to her, hugging her to his side.
“It’s nightcap time,” we answer at the same time, as I pour coffee in two cups from the steaming pot on the kitchen counter. I can hear the smile in her voice and give her a conspiratorial smirk.
I add the limoncello shot from the bottle in the freezer and join my family at the table.
We sip our drink in silence, comfortable just being with each other.
Every single night since I was seventeen, this has been our ritual.
One we share in silence. Love doesn’t need words, I’ve come to realise.
And when I lived in London, I’d send Mammona a single text.
A picture of my nightcap. And she’d answer with hers.
I think she got a phone only for that purpose, but I can’t prove it.
When she’s done, she kisses Julian and I once more. “Don’t get it on on the table, my loves. I don’t want to have to bleach it before breakfast. It irritates my nostrils.”
Julian’s mouth hangs open, and I let out a laugh.
“Do you not know what she’s like?” I ask.
“Not like this.”
“She’s seen some shit. Us fucking is probably the least of it.”
Our whispered laughter dies down. I take another sip.
Julian shifts on his seat in front of me, and the molecules of air around him rearrange themselves in something else. Something more heavy and dense.
“What is it?”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You sat differently.”
He clears his throat and I know something bad is coming. I brace for the bad news. He’s leaving. I’m leaving. Whatever it is, someone is leaving. Or dying. That’s the way it is with the Moretti-Bartoli family. And we don’t keep secrets.
“Lana’s leaving.”
“When?”
“At the end of summer. She’s getting married.”
I frown. She met a guy in London not a week ago. I doubt that’s him, even though she seemed smitten. “To whom?”
“Eduardo Garcia. He’s a real estate mogul from The Baleares.”
The reason dawns on me. Lana never does anything rash, nor anything that wouldn’t serve the family.
“And she wants to expand our territory.”
“Yeah,” Julian drags out the word. “She’s convinced it’s the best.”
I swallow, unable to ask the next question. But Julian knows what frightens me the most. There are only a few things. Being away from him. And failing Lana. He lands a hand on mine and links our fingers together, his skin on mine a simple but potent anchor as I wait for the news he has to deliver.
“You’re staying here. With me.”
“What?”
“Lana knows what being away from each other would do to us. And I can’t go there. When she marries, she’ll need me to take care of business in Kalliste. So… she’s relieving you from your functions.”
“And she couldn't tell me herself?”
I don’t know why it makes me angry to have the news delivered by Julian, and not the woman who’s become my best friend and only confident over the years we’ve spent together. I wanted to consider her like a job, but she’s always been more. She’s my sister in everything but blood.
“She will. But I wanted to be the one to tell you that we get to be together, amore.”
He stands and rounds the corner of the table to plop on my lap, his arms lacing behind my neck and keeping me close.
“We’ll never have to be apart, again,” he breathes so close to my lips I can taste the nightcap on his breath.
For minutes, we remain silent, breathing the same air, forehead dipped together like in secret whispers.
When I lift up my gaze to watch the vulnerable smile stretching on his full mouth, the glow of the lamp hits the strands of his hair, bathing him in a warm golden hue.
My golden boy. And I can have him. I can stay here.
After years of fighting, it seems unreal. Too good to be true. And yet, I find myself asking him, “So, who do we become?”
“Whoever we want,” he answers without an ounce of hesitation. “I can use my degree at the vineyard. I’ve been working on this new natural wine on the East flank of the Sant Armellu hills—”
“I didn’t know you had lands there.”
“My family doesn’t. But I do. I bought the land.”
“When?”
“Last year. I thought it’d be perfect to…” He swallows and I find myself leaning closer, hanging on to his every passionate word. “It’d be perfect to build a house. Our house.”
My jaw goes slack. “You… You want us to move in together?”
“Of course.”
“Jules.”
“Not now, I know.” He shakes his head but the minuscule grimace of hurt behind the flippant way he says doesn’t escape my notice. “But someday. When you’re ready. And we can have our little ones running around without annoying neighbours to tell them to get off their lawns or whatever.”
“Little ones?” My throat constricts with unshed tears of joy.
“Yeah, baby. I want children with you some day, Igor. I love you. You’re it for me.”
I frame his face, and kiss him. I kiss him to erase any doubts he may have.
I kiss him because I don’t have the words to tell him how much it means to me that he wants to build a life for longer than a few weeks or a few months.
That he bought land just because he never thought I’d say no. That he wants kids. Kids. Together.
I never want to say no to Julian Bartoli. I can’t. Not when he reciprocates, his mouth opening for me in that desperate way of his.
“Ty svet moyey zhizni. Ya ne mogu bez tebya zhit.”
“What does it mean?”
“You are the light of my life. I can’t live without you.”
I almost choke. The English translation doesn’t even bear the intensity of the Russian words.
He’s so much more than light. He’s the only sunshine in a life of darkness.
Of course, I’ve found camaraderie with the Moretti men, and a friendship that took me by surprise with Lana. But Him? Julian? He’s everything.
“There’s something else,” he says hesitantly, then explains the rumours about my brother becoming second to the Pakhan of the Moscow Bratva.
I have no idea what that means for my future. My services with the Moretti will end soon and I can decide what I want to do, then.
Misha climbing the ranks so fast could be good for me. It could mean a level of protection I would have never been afforded if he were only a low-level soldier like our father was.
A seed of doubt springs inside me though. Misha has never been in contact with Pietro to retrieve me. I’ve been left to my own devices, to the hands of the Morettis without a fight. Maybe his own ambitions have taken over everything we promised each other. We were just kids after all.
Though everything is uncertain when it comes to my future in the mafia or the Bratva, as Julian kisses my neck and guides me back to my bedroom, one thing is clear.
The man I love will always be by my side.