7. Lennie
Lennie
I tumble into Fujimori’s.
Ren stops dancing on one of the booths, an outstretched hand holding her phone up as it blasts music. Abe stands next to her and I must interrupt another argument regarding the status of Fujimori’s getting a jukebox.
Isolde leans back in her preferred chair, a hand loosely wrapped around a beer bottle. “I thought you had a date?”
Ren jumps down. Her heels are off which means she’s done with meetings for the day. She gives Nat a run for her money, always looking put together in suits, with her pretty styled hair. But when she’s done for the day a silly, hyper version of herself comes out to play.
She grins and pauses the music. “Did it not go well?”
I shake my head, panting.
“Can’t be worse than my worst shit date,” Isolde says. “When we finally got to it, you know what he kept saying to me? You’re so moist.”
Ren drops into her seat. “He did not. Tell me he did not.”
“You’re so moist,” Isolde quotes and I want to cringe.
Ren’s mouth drops open.
The triggerman lifts her beer. “Shame too, cause I was fucking drenched, until he kept groaning about how moist I was.”
“That’s disgusting!” Ren shudders and turns to me. “There’s no way your date could be worse.”
“He turned out to be a psychopath.”
Abe sighs, crossing his arms. He’s got a constant wary expression on his face and is worse than a mother hen. “I told you to share your location with us before you went.”
I point at Ren and Isolde. “I did.”
“Yeah, she did.” Ren pats the booth next to her and I fall into it.
“What happened?” Isolde asks. “I thought you knew the guy?”
“Yeah, but turns out he knew who I was and not because we went to college.”
Ren sits up. “Did he try and make a play?”
“That’s a fucking serious thing to do.” Isolde props a leg up on a chair.
“Tell us what happened,” Ren orders.
Abe goes into the back and brings me a glass of whiskey. This is what he does, a constant back and forth, all the while listening in.
“The Stuarts?” Isolde makes a face as she considers the name. “They’re some rich fucks, but since when do they deal with you lot?”
“They don’t,” Ren says and she’s got an ear to the ground for everything. It’s her job. “But it doesn’t surprise me that they’ve got shadowy dealings. You don’t amass as much money and power as the Stuarts because you play it safe.”
“He acted like our marriage was all but guaranteed.”
Ren rolls her eyes. “Because your mom’s gonna let that happen. Fuck off.”
It’s reassuring, yet not. I struggle to reconcile the guy I knew with the cold, threat Leopold became on a moment’s notice.
“He thought he was playing his hand,” Isolde says, as calculating as Ren at times. “But he made a mess of it.”
“How?” I’m shaking like a leaf and it pisses me off.
He wanted me scared. And here I am.
“Cause like Ren said, your mom’s going to say fuck off. Nobody’s forcing you to marry him,” Isolde explains.
Ren shrugs. “He might get a marriage if that’s the alliance he’s wanting, but it won’t be you. He’s just coming across as a British twat is all.” She gently tucks a piece of hair behind my ear and smiles. “Shake it off. Don’t let him get to you.”
The image of us at the restaurant doesn’t leave me, though. The way he looked at me, the mechanical stillness in his face as if he were seconds away from pouncing. How he could’ve easily shoved his hand up my dress.
It’s not my fault, I know that. And technically yes, nothing happened.
But the threat of violence when wielded like a weapon is just as effective as inflicting physical pain.
“What if I put out a hit?” I ask quietly. Turns out I am an Akatov after all.
Isolde nods, warming to the idea.
Ren hesitates, though. “The Stuarts might be new to town, but they come with a powerful name. If the daughter of Boris Akatov is the one putting out hits, it won’t matter if it’s personal.”
The bratva gets involved and then we’ve got war.
“Keep Ferdinand around at all times,” Ren advises. “Up the security.”
I shake my head. My muscles release, but not because I’m relaxing. All that bickering with Mom about guards and now it turns out I’ll lose the little bit of freedom I have.
I hate Leopold even more.
“I shouldn’t have to change everything just to feel safe.”
“No,” Ren agrees. “But most women don’t have access to armed guards at all times.”
She’s right of course.
Isolde sees my inner thoughts. “You want your freedom.”
“Gia’s not putting you under lock and key,” Ren notes. I didn’t realize she and my mom would get along so well.
If I tell Mom what he threatened, Leopold might just end up in a river somewhere. That could just as easily lead to a war.
“Take your freedom back,” the British expat recommends. I frown not understanding. “You don’t want to tell your parents about what happened.”
“You should tell them,” Abe calls from the kitchen among the clatter of cutlery.
Isolde speaks over him. “And you can’t hire me to make a hit.”
Ren sighs already knowing where she’s going with this. “So make another play that shows him you’re not on the marriage market.”
I stare between the two. “Uh, how?”
They contemplate a moment.
“You gotta call his bluff somehow,” Ren says.
“Become just as much of a psycho as he is,” Isolde suggests, tipping her beer back.
“But I’m not a psycho.” At least I hope not. I mean, then again I did just consider putting a hit out on someone.
“No,” Isolde agrees, blue eyes staring into my soul. “But you know what you could be? The motherfucking devil. Make this prick’s life a living hell.”
I’ve never witnessed this fiery side of Isolde and I have some questions.
I place a hand over my heart. “It’s like you’ve never met me.”
She wants little old introverted me to become the devil?
Ren carefully considers. “You could do it.”
Her button-down shirt is crooked and she’s lost the blazer. When she first showed up to take over from Aunt Macy she wore jeans and a hoodie most days. Then one day she reinvented herself. She said she had to and she’s never regretted it.
There are two sides to Ren. The one who argues with Abe and doesn’t eat enough vegetables. And the cold-hearted, calculating businesswoman everyone respects.
I don’t know how to reinvent myself like Ren. How to say ‘checkmate, motherfucker’ to Leopold.
Every part of me wants that, though. I want to see the look on his face when he gets dragged to hell.
But I’m at a loss as to how I can make that happen. Ren could do it. Isolde too, because she’s craftier than people give her credit for. I bet Abe would know how to poison someone’s food and of course, Ben’s there to legally advise everyone.
Meanwhile, I’m just little Lennie. I might belong to a family of ruthless cutthroats, but unless I’m hangry, I’d rather be off reading.
There won’t be any reading if that asshole has anything to say about it.
A shiver runs down my spine. I don’t have to think long to know how he’d treat his wife.
There will be no peace so long as Leopold remains a threat.
“You want to stay the night?” Ren offers.
I shake my head, despite being touched at the suggestion. I’ve never stayed at Ren’s and I can’t imagine she invites people over lightly. But I want nothing more than to curl up in bed. I should’ve never left it to begin with.
I crawl into the same car that drove me into the city. There’s no comment from the driver about my location.
The night full of hope turned out to be a lie.
My phone flashes with a message.
Adeline: You’ve been out a while. If you’re going home with this new guy make sure to use protection. Call me if you need anything.
A heavyweight burns into my chest. For all her annoyingness, Adeline cares about me.
I can’t imagine her lying down and taking this if she were in my situation.
Swiping away from her message, I realize there’s a thread of unread texts from Elijah.
Elijah: Ate dinner with my sister-in-law. She’s doing very well by the way.
Elijah: She asked about you, you know. She wondered if you’d be her friend.
Elijah: I suggested we invite you to our next pizza night.
Elijah: You’re not even leaving me on read because you’re not even reading my texts.
Elijah: Why aren’t you checking your phone, Leonora?
It hits me then.
Isolde thinks I should turn into the devil and scare Leopold away.
But I don’t need to become the devil. I just need to ask him for help.
Lennie: Do you have Elijah’s address?
Dots appear. Ren keeps an eye on everyone in the city even if she doesn’t admit it.
Ren: What exactly happened in the five minutes since I last saw you?
Lennie: I came up with a plan. Do you have the address?
Ren: Oh lord.
She doesn’t tell me to piss off, though. A second later a new text pops up.
I direct the driver, who eyes me curiously in the rearview mirror. Especially when we pull up to an abandoned-looking brick warehouse.
Ren’s intel is credible, but I’d never in a million years believe this dilapidated building belongs to Elijah. As a kid, for his birthday, he asked for a pocket watch to go along with his three-piece suit.
“I’ll go in,” the driver suggests.
I open the door. “It’s fine.”
“Ms. Akatov.”
“Wait here.” I slam the door and walk toward the warehouse. There’s a row of them and I stay alert at how empty the area is.
There’s a camera above a gray, steel door, implying it’s a heavily secured building. I blink up at it while I buzz a discreet button to the right of the door.
I don’t let myself look away or check back on the car. I remain as calm as I can knowing it’s better to not give too much away.
The lock clicks.
The bottom of the warehouse is dark, empty, and creepy. I scurry up a metal stairwell, going up several stories. Meaning I’m out of breath when I come to the top of the landing and find Elijah leaning against the doorjamb.