13. Anya
CHAPTER 13
ANYA
“H ave an amazing time!” I say with false cheeriness, waving at Heaven and Matteo as they leave the apartment for their first night out in what seems to be a long time. I pick up Aisling’s hand and shake it at her parents, and Heaven comes back for one more big kiss before Matteo drags her out the door. “Anya, you have all of the phone numbers, and Dante will be back soon with dinner, okay? We’ll be back around one.”
I nod. “Not a problem! She will be absolutely fine, no worries at all!”
“Have a good night,” Matteo says curtly. My eyebrows furrow as the door closes, and I make a funny face at Aisling. “Daddy doesn’t seem to like me very much,” I croon. “What do you think, baby girl? Do you like me?”
Aisling giggles and stuffs my finger into her mouth.
“That’s what I thought,” I say, pulling my phone out of my pocket again. Still nothing from Uncle Boris.
Tiny alarm bells go off in my mind. He still doesn’t even know I got the job! How the heck am I supposed to be an investigator if I don’t even know what I’m looking for?
But more than that, I’m getting nervous about the radio silence. I step through the events at Tatiana in my head, trying to recall if I made eye contact with anyone who might be able to pin his murder on me.
Dante sure as hell doesn’t know it was me, but someone else who might have inside knowledge about the bad blood shared by Vigo and my uncle might see something different.
And if they couldn’t find me, they’d look for him next.
A shiver ripples through me and I dial his number again. This time, I let it ring about twenty times before giving up.
I say a silent prayer that his ringer is off. Or that he accidentally left his phone somewhere. Or that his phone is out of battery.
Anything other than the horrible alternative of him lying face-down in a ditch somewhere, paying for a crime he didn’t commit.
But if any eyewitnesses could pin the actual murder on me, they’d also know he called in the hit.
Volkov wouldn’t think twice about slicing his head off, no matter what kind of deal he was promised.
And I’d definitely be next on his hit list.
I wander out to the balcony and sink down onto one of the chaise lounges. There are firepits on the two far corners. Obviously for ambiance because there is absolutely no need for heat out here in the desert.
In the sweltering summertime, no less.
I sit back against the cushion and cuddle Aisling against me, staring up at the dusky blueish-purple sky. “How could I let him touch me like that?” I ask the baby. “I walked right into it and climbed him like a freaking tree! But, oh my God, did he taste good. And he smelled amazing…like cloves and spice and sex. Oh, yes, sex. So much sex…” I give my head a good shake. “What the heck is wrong with me, little girl? Huh? I am a hot mess and a half over your uncle.”
Tears spring to my eyes and I let out a shuddering breath. “What am I even doing here? I’m out here, by myself, on my own with no direction at all, doing a job I have no clue how to do. And what’s worse is that I’m falling for a guy who was part of something that hurt me so deeply, I will never, ever heal from the wound.”
“Bababababababa!” Aisling says, her voice muffled as she continues gnawing at my finger.
I shake my hand, letting out a deep sigh. “I can’t get in touch with my uncle, I’m living in the same place as people who had a hand in killing my brother, which I can’t even confirm because my uncle has fallen off the face of the Earth!” I let out a huff. “It would be so much easier if we switched places right now, you know? I could be a cute little baby and you could deal with the adult stuff. Sound good?”
I smooth the top of her head. It’s so soft and she smells so amazing.
She’s also not sticky at all.
Of course, that’s in part because I keep wiping her down after she eats or drinks anything at all. Jesus, I’ve wiped her down so much, I’ve probably worn away her top layer of skin. I rise to a seated position and balance her on my lap. “I have an idea. Why don’t we go and check out Daddy’s office? We have to hurry before Uncle Dante comes back, though.” I stand up and set her on one hip, walking back inside. I have no idea when he’ll be back, and I don’t want to get caught so we have to work fast looking for something. Don’t ask me what, though. Because I can’t tell you!” I sing-song. “Because I don’t know! But maybe it’ll just jump out at me, right? I mean, that could happen. I’m sure I could pick out shady paperwork.”
Sure, I can. With all of my shady paperwork training.
I roll my eyes as we walk down the hall together in the direction of Matteo’s office. I saw him pull Dante in their earlier, and I can only hope he didn’t lock the door when he left.
I twist the handle and the door opens.
Bingo!
He obviously forgot to lock it, which is really strange since he clearly doesn’t trust me for shit.
His brain must have partially melted from the quickie afternoon sex they had because there’s no way he’d have just left the gates to the kingdom open like that. His mind was evidently in other places.
Works for me, though.
I creep into the room and head for his desk. The top is immaculate. Polished. Shiny. Not a single fingerprint or a stray piece of paper. I frown. He’s the head of a big-time mafia family. He wouldn’t leave illicit business dealings documented and out in the open for anyone to see and steal.
Dammit!
I try to pull open one of the drawers.
Sonofabitch!
Locked.
Every single one of them.
Nothing incriminating at all that I can see.
But I’ll bet behind those locks, there’s a very different story waiting to be told.
And I desperately need to read it!
I back away from the desk and meander around the room, checking out books and photos and assorted knick-knacks. There’s some signed Yankee memorabilia scattered around the place, mixed in with some signed jerseys and pictures of the Italian national football team. There’s even a soccer ball stashed in a corner. I smile down at Aisling. “Was Daddy hoping for a boy?” I murmur.
Then my eyes fall on the family photos.
Interestingly, there aren’t any professional wedding photos of Matteo and Heaven. Knowing what I do of Heaven and her taste so far, I’d have expected at least one. Instead, I just see what looks to be a selfie at a restaurant. It’s the two of them, a little flushed but smiling big for the camera. Matteo’s arm is outstretched, so I can tell he took it himself.
A happy and private moment for the newlywed couple.
But no other photos posing in front of fancy cars with lots of flowers and bridesmaids and champagne.
I guess they decided to eliminate the bullshit.
That photo is real, not staged.
The corners of my lips lift.
It’s exactly what I would want, not that pure happiness is something I’ve come to expect in my life. In fact, it’s something that keeps getting yanked away, so I think it’s best not to even bother chasing it.
I walk over to another bookshelf and let out a low chuckle. They clearly didn’t go the same route with Aisling. She’s only five months old, and by the looks of it, has had more photo shoots than a lot of models.
They clearly adore her and each other.
I feel a sharp pang in my chest.
Perfect little family.
I want to hate them. I have to hate them.
But I can’t fight the emotions bubbling in my chest when I watch Heaven with Aisling and Matteo, when I see the light in Matteo’s eyes as he looks at his wife and plays with his daughter.
I’ve been here for less than a day with no real objective in sight other than focus on the hate.
But the human in me is fighting really hard against my vicious alter ego and again, the thought crosses my mind about the twinge of remorse I always feel when I pull a trigger…no matter what, no matter who.
It always takes me a second to block out the fact that there may be some redeeming quality that I’m about to snuff out.
I’ve seen a lot of redeeming qualities today.
And have gotten zero confirmation of the non-redeeming ones.
Motherfucker!
I hate that I’m waffling like this, that I’m concerned about this baby, that I’m drowning in pent-up desire for Dante, that I actually like Heaven and Matteo.
I was supposed to come here protected by a wall of pain and anger, and it’s just crumbling like a stale cookie around me?
After mere hours?
I am on this quest for revenge, and I need to remember that.
I’m a heartless bitch. It’s why I’m so good at my job. I am cold, unfeeling, and brutal, dammit!
“Babababababa!” Aisling says, jerking me from my self-pep talk.
I nuzzle her neck and make a funny sound with my mouth that has her chuckling loudly.
Oh, for Pete’s sake!
I’m not an au pair!
No, I am a freaking hot mess, though.
In the distance, I hear the keycard sound and I dart out of the office, pulling the door closed quietly behind me. I jog into the living room, my bare feet pattering against the cool, polished floor tiles, just in time to see Dante push open the door. His arms are laden with bags, and scents wafting from whatever is inside tease my nostrils, making my stomach rumble.
I wasn’t even hungry a minute ago, but whatever he’s carrying makes my mouth water.
He grins at me. “I have a surprise for you.”
I settle Aisling in her Pack and Play and walk into the kitchen for plates, napkins, and utensils. Since I’m not sure where anything is stored, I just keep opening and closing cabinet doors until I find what I’m looking for.
“You know, while I appreciate the hand-holding, I can actually manage to do some things on my own.” I peek at him through the half-wall leading into the living room. “You don’t have to babysit me , Dante.”
But even though I try to keep my tone light, the gravity of my words makes his brow furrow. “You know what? That really hurts, Anya. And after I brought you a whole meal prepared by your culinary idol, Tommy Marcone.” He shakes his head and picks up the bags he’d just started unloading. “I guess I can find my brother Sergio and eat with him and his fiancée. I’d hate for all this food to go to waste on someone who doesn’t appreciate my chivalrous efforts.”
And as if on cue, my belly growls at me. I hear the message loud and clear.
Don’t you dare let him leave with that food, you bitch!
I sigh. “Dante, wait. I’m sorry.”
He shakes his head, still packing things into the bags again. “Nope, now you’re just saying it because you want my food. Uh-uh.”
“It’s not because of the food!” I screech. “I’m sorry for saying that stuff.”
“I don’t believe you,” he says, narrowing his eyes at me.
“Then, don’t believe me!” I say, throwing my hands in the air. “I just…” You just what, Anya? You just happen to find yourself in the tangled web of a man who may have played a role in one of the most devastating experiences of your life and you don’t know how to handle it? “I just am not used to being waited on like this.” Okay, it’s weak, but it’s better than the alternative admission.
Part of me wants to throw him down on the couch, hold a knife to his throat, and demand he tell me everything he knows.
The other part of me wants to throw him down on the couch and ride him like a thoroughbred in pursuit of the Triple Crown.
In this moment, it really is a toss-up between the two.
“I’m supposed to be the caretaker,” I say, my voice quivering a little as the words tumble from my lips. “I’ve always played that role and I guess I just don’t know how to handle it when someone takes over for me.” It’s not entirely bullshit, either. As I got older and Maks became more and more unhinged, it was up to me to keep things on an even keel back in Brooklyn. I did what I could to make sure he was clean, fed, and clothed since he lost all desire for anything other than vengeance. I was always more calculated and methodical in my actions, which made me more of an asset to the organization. Conversely, Maks acted purely on emotion, always ready to unleash the fury stored deep within him. Hell, it’s part of the reason I went with him the night he was killed. I figured with me in the car, he wouldn’t pull any of his crazy ass stunts.
I had no idea that the tables would flip as they did.
Uncle Boris’s words float back into my mind.
Maks was weak. He let his feelings rule his actions! Do you want to end up like him, Anya?
I swallow down the anger, trying desperately to keep myself calm. A few deep breaths settles my racing heart.
Dante folds his arms over his chest and stares at me. “You know that’s the most you’ve told me about yourself since I almost ran you over this morning.”
I manage a smile. “Oh yeah? So I bet you’re going to add more to your list about me now. I don’t have friends, don’t like to talk, have no patience for old people…and what else?”
“Damaged,” he says, his eyes boring into me. “There’s a reason why you do this, why you wanted this job, and something tells me it’s not because you love babies.” He steps toward me and my breath hitches. “You’re so closed off. Is it because you failed in this role before? Is that why you’re trying to make up for it with strangers?”
My jaw drops. He got all of that from what I said?
He’s too goddamn pretty to be that perceptive!
I swallow hard. “I’m not damaged,” I say, trying to keep my voice even.
“We’re all damaged, Anya. In some way or another. We’re all looking for redemption.”
“I don’t need redemption! Spare me the dollar-store psychobabble,” I snap. My jaw tightens, palms sweaty as they rub against my legs.
Dante circles me like a lion eyeing his prey. “So mysterious. So shut down. But so in need of carnal pleasure,” he muses. “Even if you don’t want to admit it to yourself. You’re looking for something you either haven’t found or had taken away. Admit it.”
I roll my eyes. “That’s your insightful analysis, huh? Because I got caught up in the moment?—”
“A moment you created, if memory serves.” He smirks. “Remember, rubbing up against me, touching my arm, giving me that fuck-me-now look?”
I throw my hands into the air. “Fine! I created it. Twice. I admit it!”
“So now are you going to admit the other thing?”
“What other thing?”
“That you’re damaged.”
“Jesus Christ!”
“Language,” he says with a quirk of his brow.
I let out a snort. “You know what? I’ve lost my appetite. So thanks for that!” I turn on my heel, ready to stalk toward my room when I stop short.
Aisling.
I turn back around, scoop her up, and head back down the hallway. My stomach gurgles and clenches as my pulse throbs against my neck.
Fuck him for seeing all of that!
And how, by the way? I basically told him nothing and he managed to pull all of that from the minimal words I uttered.
I sink into the plush leather recliner in the corner of the room that overlooks the bright lights of the Las Vegas Strip. I stare into the night sky, at all of the stars twinkling against the blackness. I never saw that many stars in Brooklyn. The dark, ominous cloud of a hopeless future always hung low overhead, blocking any slivers of light from shining through.
But here, it feels like the cloud has lifted, albeit temporarily.
I had no idea what wounds would be torn open by being out here in Vegas. All of the things I resisted for so long, thrown in my face, taunting me because I’ll never have them myself.
I made choices. A lot of choices.
And they defined my path.
It’s not glamorous by any stretch, but it’s been set.
I have to deliver for my uncle, for our livelihood, for our future…the future Maks will never get to experience.
Deliver what, though?
That’s the hundred-million-dollar question.
My stomach rumbles again and Aisling’s even breathing tells me that she’s dozed off.
I wonder what was in those bags…
Tommy Marcone? Really?
There was so much scrumptiousness just beyond my fingertips and I screwed it up.
What’s worse than shutting down is cutting someone off when they peg you exactly right.
And damn, did he peg me.
I also am not stupid. It’s clear that he’s hanging around at the request of Matteo. The guy doesn’t trust me at all. I get it. He’s got a lot at stake on a daily basis, and bringing a virtual stranger into his home doesn’t give him a warm and fuzzy.
Rightly so, considering Uncle Boris had some in at the agency and was able to pull strings to get my bullshit resume sent directly to the Villanis. That’s why Dante is here. He’s watching me, making sure I don’t act out of line. I’m actually shocked they left me here alone with the baby when Dante was getting dinner. It also makes me wonder who else is watching…and from where.
I already know what Dante would do to protect Aisling. He basically told me he has no limits when it comes to his family.
I dip my head down and inhale deeply, letting Aisling’s sweet scent fill my lungs. It’s weird, but it calms me. Makes me feel like I’m in the right place…for all of the wrong reasons, of course.
I rock her for a few more minutes, fuzzy fantasies about what kind of feast I missed out on looping through my mind. I haven’t eaten a damn thing today, and this was my big chance to sink my teeth into a gourmet meal made by my cooking idol.
But I blew it because I couldn’t handle that someone else could see my truth.
As my eyes drift closed, one final thought takes hold of my sleepy brain, refusing to let go.
Where the fuck is Uncle Boris?