30. Elijah
Elijah
G ia and I stand in silence outside of Leonora’s room.
I didn’t let her go as we drove to her house. Gia demanded she come straight to her. I’m surprised she didn’t follow Boris to the warehouse. I allowed Nat and their mother to take Leonora when we arrived, pausing at the threshold. Gia turned back, jerking her head for me to follow.
Not that they allowed me near her. I was directed to a guest bathroom.
That was hours ago. I’ve had two different conversations with my dad. One where he asked why the fuck there was a body needing to be cleaned up. An hour later he called again. That time he used his dad voice instead of the tone of a mafia king when he asked if I was all right.
After I got off the phone, I crept to Leonora’s room. Nat first barred me, telling me her sister needed rest. Then Ren and Isolde appeared and I was truly banished.
Now I stand outside listening to Isolde’s soft words.
After a moment Gia turns to me, a thread of dark hair falling into her eyes. “Let’s have a talk, you and I.”
Without waiting for a response she goes down the stairs, one step creaking.
As much as I’m loath to admit it, the Akatov home is alive in a way the Zimins never was or will be. Yelena brings a glacial fury to it that rivals the Siberian cold.
Gia’s home comes with a warmth others crave. The brown floorboards are covered in red Persian rugs. Hall tables have potted plants and books. Frames take up every inch of wall space as I follow her into the kitchen.
There’s a high ceiling and there are more plants and a fridge full of magnets and pictures. No one would ever assume Boris, bratva royalty, gets his orange juice out of that fridge.
A pot boils on the stovetop and Gia rounds the island, placing herself right in front of it.
This is how I remember her from my childhood days. Kids running around while she cooked. It was replaced by something more akin to the Wicked Witch after the butcher knife incident but for the first time, I wonder if we’re beyond that.
I know we are.
We have to be.
Based on how Gia stares at me as she checks the pot, she knows it too.
“So you’re dating my daughter.”
I nod, slipping my hands into my pockets. I showered and slipped into a pair of sweats, providing the Akatovs with a rare sighting of me in comfy clothes.
Gia adds pasta to the pot, stirring it. “I suppose you think I’ve been hard on you all these years.”
Yes.
“Tell me Elijah what would you do if a boy scarred your beautiful baby girl?”
Cut his balls off.
Perhaps there’s some merit to her desires after all.
I clear my throat. “I suppose I would’ve made the boy disappear.”
A puff of laughter escapes her. “Oh, you think.” She grabs a squash and begins to chop. “You knew about this stalker?”
“Yes.”
Her movements grow quicker. “Your man took a bullet for her.”
“Yes.” The word takes a bullet to my own chest as the image of Ivan slumped overcomes me.
I had to call his brother and tell him the news.
“She was taken anyway.” But the accusation is softened when she adds, “Boris said good things about Ivan. I’m sorry you lost him.”
I won’t miss him just because it’s hard to find loyal men these days. He joked in Russian and watched the Rangers. I’d known him since my Oxford days, recruiting him from Dad’s team. I’m a man with few friends but I can truly say he was one of them.
All I can think to say is, “He was a big fan of haikus.”
“You went to my daughter without a second thought.”
“Yes.”
She rubs the back of her hand against her nose. “You love her?”
“Yes.” Very much.
“I apologize for thinking your heart wasn’t capable of love.”
“You wouldn’t be the first,” I say quietly. At times I feared my own father believed the same.
She sticks the tip of her knife into the cutting board, wiping her nose again. “This is real?” she asks, staring at me point blank.
“Yes.”
For a beat, she ponders the response. But for the first time in years, she studies me with open, searching eyes rather than narrowed ones.
Finally, she lets out a sigh, leaning her hands against the counter, her shoulders sinking. “I suppose we’ll have to learn to get along then.”
The first smile in hours tugs at my lips. “If it helps I promise we’ll always spend holidays at yours.”
It’ll be tough missing out on celebrating with Sailor, but chances are I can convince Russet to tag along to get away from Yelena.
The way Gia snorts, she understands. “Shit.” Laughter curls around her words now and she shakes her head. “You know I grew up in this life, but the Italians are different.”
A far-off expression crosses her face as she talks.
“I was nervous to join Boris. To walk around on his arm, knowing the sneers were for me.”
She’s never shown an ounce of vulnerability before.
“But the first time Boris brought me along, I met this girl, and I’ve never laughed so hard in my entire life.”
The final few words are stronger, as she puts her entire belief into them.
“Your mom,” she says, the reality ricocheting over me. “They weren’t even married then.”
I hadn’t realized Gia had known Mom for so long. The way Dad tells the story, my mother made him work for it. They didn’t get married right away and even then, they were together for a while before they were able to have me. By the time I was three, she was gone.
“You know this is a fucked up world we live in,” Gia says. “But shit. . . there’s nothing like fucking cancer.”
I’m left standing in disbelief when her face crumples without any warning. She looks up at the lights, blinking, her brow wrinkled in tension.
All this time we shared one thing. . . love for a woman gone too soon.
We hear footsteps at the same time. Gia runs a hand under her eyes, before placing it on her hip.
Dad holds up a bottle of vodka, Uncle Dima nodding in greeting. “We thought we’d check in on Boris.”
She lets out a laugh and another of those endearing snorts. “He’s in his beloved garden,” she tells them and they both turn, knowing the way.
Dad pauses though, meeting my eye. I nod. He nods back. It’s about as sentimental as we’re going to get.
“Your brother’s about to come in.” Dad jerks his head toward the front hallway, before following after Dima.
I turn back to Gia.
“You better go and see her before she breaks up with you,” she tells me.
Like that’s going to happen.
The small smile on Gia’s teasing lips tells me she knows it too.
“I’ve got to go check on my other daughter,” she says, turning down the burner.
She uses another exit, heading to Adeline, the killer.
For some reason, I am both surprised and not surprised at the youngest Akatov daughter. She’s acted strangely the past few months, if not years, but perhaps we’re just about to discover more about her. Or at least of her killer instincts.
The front door opens, right as I step into the foyer. I catch a glimpse of Roma’s Barracuda, meaning he drove separately from Dad and Dima.
“You look nice without the blood,” I tell him. “Though, it was a good look while it lasted.”
He shoots me a sheepish grin, tucking his hands into his pockets. “She all right?”
I could be a dick and ask him who he’s referring to. Leonora or her best friend curled up next to her in bed.
But before I can say anything, feet pound down the staircase. I know from the way my brother’s expression slides from surprise to longing, who it is.
Ren’s sporting the type of clothes she used to wear when I first met her. Comfortable streetwear. A hoodie sticks out from the denim jacket she’s got on and her brown hair flops around in a ponytail as she climbs down the stairs.
Isolde’s right behind her. “Get up there you lazy bastard.”
They’re lucky I didn’t kick them out hours ago, instead giving them much-needed best friend time.
Ren smiles like she knows the power she yields in that department.
“Thank you.” The words are nothing compared to what I feel.
“I want you to convince Abe to buy a jukebox,” Ren informs me, tilting her chin up.
“So you didn’t save Leonora because she’s your best friend?”
She feigns hurt. “Um, I’m sorry, do you two think you got their first? Babe, we were already on the ground when you two were getting shot at. Now get me a fucking jukebox.”
“Night.” Isolde nods at us both, following after her friend as they head out into the night.
The door shuts after them.
“You okay?” I ask quietly.
Roma stood silently, eyes wide watching the whole thing. At least until she called me babe. That had him scowling. I hate to break it to him, but he won’t get her back without upping his game.
“Thank you for coming with me,” I tell him.
He tries to shake me off. “That’s what brothers are for. And you know, since I’m still childless it falls to me now to keep you out of trouble.”
And he fucking did. Max is quiet, meaning others mistake him as docile. But the truth is a steel edge runs through him. Always has.
Roman’s the baby brother who cried if he came across a dead bird at the park.
Today, he didn’t flinch, no matter the amount of blood splattered across his face.
He reads my thoughts. “You’re surprised to learn I take after Dad.”
Dad, as in the man he only speaks to when he has to?
“A little,” I admit. And I’m loathe to admit to my younger brothers any time I’m wrong about things.
He shrugs. “Max takes after Mom. I take after Dad. And fuck if I know who or what the hell you take after.”
Sounds about right.
“You okay?” he asks, serious.
I’m never letting Leonora out of my sight. I’m pissed I didn’t kill Leopold from the get-go. And I knew I should have. I’m slightly annoyed Adeline got the kill shot but most of all I’m just incredibly, fucking ecstatic at today’s luck that saved the love of my life.
“We should go to brunch more often.”
Roma stands there, slightly confused. “All right. . .”
“Invite Russet. And Sailor obviously.” I suppose Max can tag along if he wants. I need to spend more time with my brothers.
Fuck, I’m getting sentimental.
“We’ll pick a place with a patio and take Albert.”
Roma pulls me into a hug, clapping my shoulder. “I’m headed out, but call me if you need anything.”
I shut the door behind him, waiting until I hear the familiar purr of his engine.
Then I trail softly up the stairs, pausing on the landing. Nat doesn’t shut Leonora’s door all the way, noticing me.
She passes with a smile, creeping toward a room I suspect is Adeline’s.
The room is silent and dark. It feels like the childhood version of Leonora despite her officially living here after her college days. Though, that’s about to be a thing of the past. She’ll move in with me the moment she’s got her head wrapped around everything.
There’s no way in hell she’ll be far from me again. She’ll wake up and go to sleep every day in my bed. I’ll even allow Albert to sleep on her side, but only because I know it makes her so damn happy to pet the furball first thing in the morning.
I slip under the covers, trying not to stir her, not that it matters. She’s pretending to be asleep.
Pulling her close, her back meets my chest and my chin rests against the top of her head. My arm wraps around her waist, needing to feel every inch of her skin without alarming her. My cock stirs, not understanding the need to be delicate tonight.
One of her legs moves under the bedcovers, the sheets rustling. She holds onto me tightly and I do the same with her.
“Can we get a cat now?” she asks in the dark and I smile.