44. Skye
SKYE
N ikola had been home for a while now, but he hadn’t asked for me.
My pride held me back from going to him. His words still hurt, and if there was one thing I’d learned from my parents, it was that when an apology was due, you should never cave in.
So I didn’t, but it split my heart in two.
It was the worst kind of feeling. The kind I felt when I was that five-year-old helpless girl, handcuffed to the radiator.
Ever since my memory had resurfaced, I suspected it was Mama’s grandmother who starred in my nightmares, but I didn’t voice that thought. I couldn’t bring myself to bring any more pain to my parents. Besides, I still hadn’t confirmed it was indeed that very same woman.
Papa, unfazed by the reality of the situation and ghosts of my past, had been full steam ahead with wedding preparations. He refused to take Nikola’s refusal seriously.
If I was a better person—a better woman—I would have told my parents to forget Nikola and this ridiculous marriage. But it turned out, I wasn’t a good, selfless woman.
“ I like this penthouse ,” Mama signed, desperate to talk about anything but what weighed on all of us. “ We should stay here next time. ”
Sasha and Branka’s penthouse was our temporary home while they were staying in the Nikolaev compound with Damien.
Honestly, I never understood why they had a penthouse here when they spent the majority of their year in Siberia, and whenever they visited New Orleans, they stayed at the Nikolaev compound.
“ Are you all packed up ?” Mama asked for the hundredth time.
“ Yes, Mama .” I shifted my legs, folding them under me.
The couch in this penthouse had sadly become my best friend. At least today I’d showered, which was a major accomplishment in my current state of depression.
I didn’t want to go back to Trieste, fearing that the physical distance would make matters worse. But that was ridiculous because it wouldn’t matter if we were five feet or five thousand miles apart, there couldn’t be a deeper wedge between Nikola and me.
My cell buzzed in my lap and a message flashed across the screen.
Penelope: So, Christmas wedding here I come. Might be a funeral too.
Amara: Ohh, two for one. Sounds like a perfect commercial ad.
Me: Have you gotten a dress yet?
I hated to admit it, but part of me was jealous. Penelope didn’t want a wedding yet she was getting one. I wanted one, and the man I loved refused to give me one. The most frustrating part was that I couldn’t wrap my head around his reasoning.
To me, he was still the same exact Nikola he’d always been: strong, protective, and loving.
Another message pulled me from my own misery to focus on my friends.
Penelope: I’m not wearing a white dress. I want Enzo to know I’m no longer a virgin.
Amara: Ohhh, love that. You going to go down wearing something risqué?
Penelope: I would walk down the aisle naked, but my family’s going to be there.
Me: Maybe give him a chance?
Penelope: Yeah, I’ll give him a chance to have a quick death.
Amara: I wouldn’t.
Penelope: Enough about me. How are you, Skye? Ready for your big day after that scandalous sex tape?
Fuck, the news of my broken engagement hadn’t made it out.
Me: Nikola dumped me. It was the shortest engagement—if you can call it that—in recorded history.
Amara: Fuck, what happened?
Penelope: Aside from the sex tape.
Amara: It’s hot from what I heard.
I winced, but before I could type a reply, Penelope’s came first.
Penelope: It was done discreetly so you couldn’t tell who it was.
Me: So how do you know it was me?
Penelope: My papa heard Marchetti raging. Nikola sent him a text with the video and specifically said it’s you with him. Fucking brilliant!
Me: Hindsight, not so much.
Amara: Want me to kill Nikola?
I sighed, unable to even imagine this world without him in it.
Me: No. He’s gone through enough.
Penelope: ???
Amara: ???
Jesus, it’d been weeks since the shooting. Hadn’t Nikola’s parents updated anyone?
Me: Long story. My great-grandma appeared from the shadows and tried to kill my papa. Nikola saved us, but she shattered his knees. He might never walk again.
Penelope: Fuck, I’m sorry.
Amara: Jesus, I take my assassination offer off the table. I’m so sorry.
Mama tapped my shoulder and I met her eyes, tabling the messages for now while my phone continued to buzz.
“ It’ll be nice to be back home, ” she signed nervously. “ We can focus on Christmas plans and the wedding. ”
“It’ll be a two-for-one,” Papa retorted wryly. “I sure hope wives’ tales of Christmas weddings are all bullshit.”
Mama slapped his forearm gently. “ Christmas Day weddings are good luck .”
Papa’s eyebrows met his hairline. Clearly nobody had heard of that theory.
But instead of pointing it out, he settled for, “Well, he sure as fuck won’t ever forget his anniversary.”
“ Penelope’s getting married on Christmas Day ,” I signed, relating what I just learned. “ So best not to go forward with plans for a Christmas wedding. ”
“Ahh, maybe that’s why Vasili and Isabella are pushing for a spring wedding,” Papa stated with a hint of relief in his eyes.
“Okay, no Christmas wedding. I’m sure somewhere along the way I heard it’s bad luck anyhow.
” Mama stared at him, glanced at me, then back at him.
“Another clusterfuck waiting to happen with Penelope DiMauro and Enzo Marchetti,” Papa continued.
“Fucking disasters everywhere you turn.”
“ Dante, weddings aren’t a disaster ,” Mama scolded him, then turned to me. “ What do you think about a spring wedding, Skye ?”
“ Yeah, whatever. Spring sounds just as good. ”
Mama clapped her hands. “ Wonderful. Aunt Reina can design your dream wedding dress. Everything will be just perfect. ”
She was trying so hard to appear optimistic.
So was Papa, and all I could do was grimace with the knowledge that our current situation wasn’t what I had in mind whenever I dreamed of a wedding and a future.
I had to be the first woman in this fucked-up mobster world to insist on a wedding against the groom’s wishes. Talk about role reversal.
How low could I sink?
I pressed my hand to my forehead and inhaled a deep breath. Just the way Dr. Freud, the therapist Papa insisted I talk to, had taught me. God, how could things have gotten so bad? Happiness was within reach and then… poof .
My great-grandmother, of all people, destroyed it.
That familiar rage slithered through my veins and I steeled myself to ask the unfathomable.
“ Papa ?”
“Yes, princess?” Mama was scurrying around, cleaning and packing, not paying us any attention.
“ Are you still going to… the basement ?”
Surprise flickered in his eyes, but he waited until Mama was out of the room to answer. “Yes.”
“ Can I go with you ?”
“No, that is no place for you.”
I shrugged. “ I’ve been there. So either you take me with you, or I’ll go alone. ”
“The Nikolaevs have let you into that basement?”
I shook my head. “ No, I ended up there alone once, by mistake. ”
The memory of that Halloween night burned, hot and bright, making my cheeks turn pink. If only I’d known where it would lead us, maybe I wouldn’t have made my way into The Den of Sin.
Oh, who was I kidding?
I would have still gone down there, begging for Nikola’s attention.
“What do you think you’ll accomplish by going there?” Papa asked.
I shrugged.
“ Don't know. Closure ?” My gaze flitted to where Mama disappeared to. “ How come Mama doesn’t want to see Grandma and demand answers ?”
“Your mom closed the chapter on her grandma a long time ago.”
I swallowed. “ So you’re going to the basement to… kill her ?”
He shook his head.
“No, we’re leaving that for Nikola.” The name caused a painful throb in my chest, but I ignored it. “I’ve been going down there trying to retrieve your great-grandfather’s name from that woman.”
“ He’s alive too ?”
Papa shrugged. “It’s complicated, princess. He might be long dead, but it’s important for your mama and Aunt Reina to learn his name.”
“ I understand .” Although truthfully, I didn’t.
Papa glanced at his watch, then back at me. “Fine, you can come along. It might be easier to get you to your therapy session with Dr. Freud afterward if I don’t have to run back anyhow.”
I jumped to my feet. “ Give me five minutes to get dressed. ”
When we got to the club, Kostya and his father greeted us. Judging by the state of Alexei’s clothes, they’d been there a while.
The scent of copper and death surrounded us, causing my steps to falter. My eyes locked on the slightly cracked door that led into the room where they kept my great-grandmother, a mere stranger.
“ She’s still alive ?” I finally signed, eyeing the old woman tied to the chair. Frail. Battered. As if sensing me, she lifted her head and our gazes clashed. I reeled back from memories.
It’s her!
The woman who’d starred in my memories long forgotten. The very same woman who’d handcuffed me to the radiator like I was less than an animal, keeping me trapped in a bare room for days.
The malice and hate I sensed rolling from her had me shaking my head frantically. I wanted to chase the dark fog away, right along with her.
Her mouth moved, but I couldn’t read her chapped, bloodied lips.
Papa stepped in front of me, blocking me from the woman’s view. His tense shoulders and alarmed posture zeroed in on me.
“Why is she saying you remember her?” Papa demanded to know, signing and mouthing the words at the same time. “Why would you remember her?”
Cold panic tore through my chest and my throat tightened. I tried to hide it, but it was like trying to hold back an avalanche. Impossible.
Papa took my face, my eyes darting around like a deer caught in headlights.
“Skye, look at me,” he demanded, but before I could sign a single word, Papa’s shoulders tensed. He whirled around and lunged at the woman.
I stood frozen as I watched Kostya and Alexei peel a raging Papa off the old woman while she was cackling with a crazed look in her eyes.