Chapter 21
Holy fucking shit.
Literally every New York Italian mobster who haunts people’s dreams is here.
The private dining room is quiet with no music, and all talk stopped at our arrival.
Before the wedding, Dasha and I researched the Lombardis, which led us into learning more about the other crime families that run New York, including the Marchettis and Cavallaros.
Scanning the crowd, I recognize faces from all three families.
I’m in a damn Mafia summit.
In our research, we learned that not too long ago, the Lombardis were at war with the Marchettis and Cavallaros. It all started when Vinny, Antonio’s older brother, kidnapped his ex-girlfriend. Cristian Marchetti murdered him for it.
Cristian, also known as Monster Marchetti, is the boss of the Marchetti Mafia family. If there’s one man to fear in this world, it’s him. He’s the cruelest mobster in the country.
In retaliation for Vinny’s murder, Vincent Lombardi—Antonio’s father—planned to kill Cristian’s son, Benny. The plan went wrong, and they shot Benny’s wife, Neomi, instead.
That’s what brought Severino Cavallaro, boss of the Cavallaro mob family and Neomi’s father, into the war. No one dare touch his daughter and get away with it.
It also didn’t help that after Vincent’s death, Antonio kidnapped Gigi, Cristian’s daughter.
Yes, my brother contracted me to marry into a family that makes even the Bratva seem functional.
Everyone expected Cristian to torture and murder Antonio when he found him, but surprisingly, that didn’t happen. Behind closed doors, Gigi and Antonio had history. Antonio saw his kidnapping more as protection for Gigi during a civil war within the Lombardi family.
Gigi told Cristian to accept her relationship with Antonio or lose his daughter.
It took time and convincing because Monster Marchetti doesn’t give up easily.
But eventually, he chose Gigi and even walked her down the aisle at their wedding.
Mercy like that is rare in our world.
No Morozova man would’ve done it.
I flinch when Emilio shuts the door behind us, snapping me back into the reality of where I am. I peer back at the group of men, counting eight of them. Some faces are unfriendly, some uninterested, and others look ready to murder at any second.
Goose bumps spread over my skin like armor as I stand there.
Aleksy wants me to kill Emilio and then what?
Face the wrath of these crazies?
I think the absolute fuck not. They’d slaughter me in two seconds.
He’d better have a good escape plan before I play executioner.
My gaze coasts from the men to across the room. Clusters of birthday balloons are spread around the room, and a birthday banner hangs along the wall. The wallpaper is a deep maroon. I shut my eyes, my imagination getting the best of me.
It’s to mask the color of blood, isn’t it?
I shake my head, my attention shifting to the group of women seated at the end of the long dining table, a white tablecloth draped over it. All of them are staring straight at me.
A short, dark-haired girl stands and settles her wineglass on the table.
I immediately recognize her. Gigi Marchetti-Lombardi—a.k.a. New York’s Mafia princess.
Two other women do the same, and they walk straight to us.
Out of instinct, I scoot closer to Emilio’s side.
“Aren’t you going to introduce us, Emilio?” Gigi asks when they reach us. She rests her hand on her hip, staring him down.
“You were at our wedding,” Emilio says flatly. “No need.”
I glare at his rudeness.
What kind of husband doesn’t introduce his wife?
It’s the least he could do.
None of them even wince at Emilio’s cold indifference.
“Yes,” Gigi says, drawing out the word. “But we expected a different bride that day. As we all now know, she isn’t Dasha.”
She smiles at me. I return the smile, deciding I like her.
“She can speak.” Emilio’s face tightens. His nostrils flare as he fixes his glare on me. “She had no problem introducing herself to Oliver only minutes ago.”
Gigi playfully elbows the petite woman to her right. “Is that jealousy from him?”
Her friend repeatedly nods. “Never thought I’d see the day when Emilio had emotions.”
Emilio clenches his jaw and shakes his head as he walks away without a word. His shoulders are tense as he heads straight to the group of men.
While the Bratva and Mafia may be different crime syndicates, this has the same outdated seating chart as the parties I grew up attending. Men on one side and women on the other.
Gigi rolls her eyes. “I swear, sometimes, I wish these men would pop some pharmaceuticals to relax. Eat a fucking gummy. Enjoy a Xanax. Or hell, go get hypnotized.”
The petite woman nods. Her thick black hair is pulled into a tight French braid. “I suggest therapy to Damien on a regular basis. Does he listen? Nooo. He tells me he’s going to the freaking gun range.”
“Men love to talk a mean game about how women are so emotional, but they’ll literally join the Mafia and murder instead of going to therapy,” says the dark-haired woman standing on Gigi’s opposite side. She holds out her hand toward me. “I’m Neomi.”
I shake her hand. “Liliya.”
Gigi slaps her hand to her chest. “I’m Gigi.” She motions toward the girl with the braid. “And this is Pippa.”
I politely wave at them, suddenly feeling shy.
If anyone ever looked the part of Mafia princess, it’s Gigi, dressed in high-waisted black trousers, a crisp white button-up with a Chanel brooch, and stiletto heels. Her long curls fall over her shoulders, and her tan skin glows with hardly a touch of makeup.
Pippa’s style is more playful in a flowing emerald-green dress and glittery pink ballet flats. With her hair pulled away from her face, her dimples and pink cheeks are put on display.
Neomi looks the most laid-back and comfortable, dressed in a black leather jacket and dark jeans. Her sleek, straight hair hits her shoulders.
Suddenly, I feel so plain in only my cotton maxi dress.
I love dressing up for events. Emilio will get a lecture about giving me plenty of notice before parties going forward.
“Come on, Liliya.” Pippa taps my arm. “Let’s get you a drink, and you can meet everyone.”
Hopefully, everyone excludes the murderers in the corner.
We join four other women at the table. They all smile and wave at me.
“Is it someone’s birthday?” I ask while taking the open chair beside Gigi.
“Mine,” Gigi replies before grabbing her wineglass.
“Happy birthday,” I say, my cheeks blushing in embarrassment. “I’m so sorry. Emilio didn’t tell me where we were going. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have come empty-handed.”
“Girl, no worries,” Gigi replies with a kind smile. “I told everyone to donate whatever they planned to spend on a gift to Safe Hearts. Emilio already wrote the check.”
“The women’s shelter?” I ask.
A few years back, I heard my uncle complaining that one of his mistresses was hiding at Safe Hearts. A week later, I saw her on a missing persons bulletin board.
“Yep,” Pippa says as the other women nod. “Safe Hearts is Genesis’s baby, which makes it our godchild.”
The table turns silent at the mention of Genesis.
Pippa slams her mouth shut, realizing what she did.
Genesis not only murdered my cousin, but also his underboss, Yuri.
A woman with long, glossy jet-black hair dressed in a colorful halter top raises her hand. “In my defense—”
“You have no reason for a defense,” I say, instantly realizing she’s Genesis. “Dima’s actions earned his death.”
Genesis is gorgeous, so it’s no surprise Dima was obsessed with marrying her.
My cousin made his own bed when he kidnapped her. If Genesis hadn’t killed him, he’d have committed even more atrocious crimes and murdered more people.
On the other hand, if she hadn’t, maybe I wouldn’t be married to Emilio.
Genesis lowers her gaze and voice. “Thank you. I appreciate that.”
“Phew,” Pippa says, faking swiping sweat off her forehead. “Glad we got that over with. Genesis was worried it’d be weird between you two.”
Genesis pushes Pippa’s shoulder.
“But you’re family now,” Pippa continues. “I told her, sooner or later, we’d all be in the same room. Might as well do it now.” She shrugs before grabbing her glass and taking a sip.
Genesis groans. “There’s not a non-weird way to say, Sorry I murdered one of your family members.”
“Trust me, it’s not that weird in this world,” Neomi says. “Gigi’s father-in-law almost killed me. Yet here I am, brunching with the Lombardis when I wanted them dead not too long ago.”
“And that’s why I love you, dear sister-in-law,” Gigi says, raising her glass toward Neomi.
Their honesty surprises me.
In the Bratva, women don’t talk like this. Everything is hush-hush. They pretend their husbands work boring desk jobs and don’t come home bloody.
The three other women introduce themselves.
First, Natalia.
Even though I’ve heard of her, since she’s Cristian’s wife, I’ve never seen her in person.
They didn’t attend the wedding. It’s no wonder two Mafia men started a war over her.
She could’ve easily passed on the Mafia wife life and become a model with her olive skin tone, piercing brown eyes, and high cheekbones.
Natalia also became talk in this world since she was Gigi’s best friend before marrying Cristian.
Then there’s Isabella and Bria, Neomi’s sisters.
There’s no mistaking that they’re all Cavallaros.
Not only do they have similar hairstyles—though Isabella’s is pushed back with butterfly clips—but they’re all wearing similar clothing.
Bria’s leather jacket is red, and Isabella’s is pink.
Bria’s face is makeup-free, and Isabella has sparkly eye shadow and long black lashes.
Our conversation stops when a blond server enters the room. She takes the men’s orders first before coming to us.
I order a mimosa. Genesis and Pippa do the same.
Gigi orders another glass of wine.
Bria and Isabella order margaritas.
I relax in my chair as we chat. They welcome me like I’m one of them, and I laugh more than I thought I would today. They ask questions about my life and share their own stories.
They don’t talk much about Emilio, which is disappointing, but I have a feeling it’s because he’s in the room with us.
For the first time ever, I feel friendship with someone other than Dasha.
I feel like I belong.
A knot forms in my chest, and I chug my mimosa.
This will end when I have to kill my husband.
Emilio is their family. They hold a loyalty to him.
I doubt they’ll be as forgiving as Neomi was with Gigi’s dead father-in-law.