14. Anya
CHAPTER 14
ANYA
C rack! Bang! Pop!
My throat is so tight, I can barely breathe as I stare at the man splayed across the dirty tile floor.
Three shots, right to the chest.
I sneak a look up at my uncle and he glares at me. Instead of giving me the approval I so desperately crave, he grimaces. “You hesitated,” he says in a cold voice. “You gave him the opportunity to grab his gun and shoot you in the fucking head!”
I bristle at his tone. What the hell does he expect from me? I’m an eighteen-year-old kid! I should be hanging out with friends, reading books, watching silly movies, and dating boys — not killing gross and disgusting men like the one at my feet.
All because he double-crossed my uncle.
I mean, yeah, I owe my uncle a lot.
Everything, actually.
But when do I get a say in how the rest of my life is going to unfold?
Will I ever?
“I did,” I say, my voice unwavering. “I can’t help it. I keep seeing my parents’ faces right before I pull the trigger.”
“Change what you see in that moment,” he seethes, narrowing his glassy blue eyes at me and backing me against the wall. “Imagine the faces of the fucking men who killed your parents!” he bellows. “That should make you furious and anxious to squeeze the trigger! Revenge, Anya! It’s always about revenge!”
His words pelt me like sharp rocks that slice into my flesh. My pulse throbs against my neck, my breaths growing more and more labored as the tension-filled seconds tick by. I try to suck down oxygen, but an icy noose loops around my neck, making it impossible to fill my lungs.
“Uncle Boris, lay off,” Maks grunts as he walks into the room and surveys the scene. “She got him, didn’t she?”
Uncle Boris spins around, his eyes spitting white-hot flames at my brother. “So, you’re good with her being sloppy in her actions? Good with her taking after you, Maks?”
Maks rolls his eyes. “Give her a break. She just started ? —"
Uncle Boris pokes Maks in the chest with his finger. “Don’t give her any advice, Maks. I’m trying to keep her alive!”
“What the hell does that mean?” he says. I clench my fists at my side, silently willing my brother to shut his big mouth. He never knows when to back down and it’s going to turn out very badly for him one day.
“It means you don’t ever listen when I give you an order. You do what you want when you want because you’re driven by the toxic bullshit eating you alive from the inside out. It clouds your judgment. The only reason you’re still alive is because of me! It’s the only reason why both of you are alive!”
“Oh, so that makes you uncle of the year, huh?” Maks shouts. “You saved our asses and now we owe you ours? Fuck that!”
Uncle Boris grabs Maks by the jacket and throws him against the wall. “You wanna leave, Maks? You think you can survive for a single second on your own?”
A momentary look of panic flits across Maks’s face and then disappears as he grits his teeth. “I think I can protect us both without having to kill people for a living!”
Uncle Boris lets out a low, growly laugh. Shivers slither across my skin, the sound assaulting my ears. I cringe as it gets louder and more harsh.
“You walk out of here without me and you die,” he hisses. “Plain and simple. And if you don’t believe me, just try. Watch what happens to your precious sister before you suffer the same fate. They’re just waiting for you to make your move, Maks.”
My eyes fly open and I let out a gasp, perspiration pebbling on the back of my neck as I’m jolted awake by the nightmare. My uncle has always been a controlling bastard, and he’d say things like that all the time to keep us in line and focused. The threat of the unknown always loomed over us like a noxious black cloud.
It’s one of the reasons why I’m here right now, why I still can’t seem to break free.
And why I’m still letting him pull the strings.
Because deep down, I’m still that scared little girl whose parents were brutally slaughtered in their house, their family haven of safety and comfort.
It takes me a few minutes to remember that I’m no longer in that dingy bar in Brighton Beach, that I’m somewhere else.
Somewhere safe and warm.
Wait, where the is that, again?
I blink fast, my eyes adjusting to the darkness. I’m suddenly very aware of a warm bundle sitting on my chest, and I thank God that my harsh return to the real world didn’t seem to wake her at all.
My face feels so greasy. Jesus, I need a shower desperately.
And some food.
In that order.
I carefully rise from the recliner, a crick in my neck shooting sharply down the side of my body as I turn my head. The gorgeous bed Heaven made up for me looks so inviting, and I make a silent promise to try it out just as soon as I wash the airplane grime off of my body.
I tiptoe over to the crib next to my bed and carefully lie Aisling on the mattress. I guess Heaven wanted to make sure I definitely did not miss the baby’s cries in the middle of the night.
No worries there since I haven’t had a restful night’s sleep since before the night Maks was killed.
I’m actually the ideal candidate for an au pair, in that regard.
How freaking ironic.
I stare down at the baby. She looks so peaceful and angelic lying there. My gut clenches. So much love. So much happiness. So much hope.
I had all of that once, too, kid…
I scrub a hand down the front of my face and set up the baby monitor next to the crib, taking the portable walkie-talkie thing with me into the adjoining bathroom. I really hope the shower spray doesn’t wake her up. She didn’t nap too much today, but I’ve always heard that babies have this sixth sense…like they know when you’re comfortable or sleeping or in the middle of something and pick exactly that time to start wailing.
I take a few, exaggerated steps toward the massive white granite and marble bathroom, looking up and around in awe. I think I’ll take the risk…
There is an enormous soaking tub in one corner of the room, sleek mirrors hung over the ‘his and hers’ sinks, and rich, dark wood cabinets that pop against all of the white. A modern crystal chandelier hangs from the ceiling with matching wall sconces on either side of the room.
It is the most gorgeous bathroom I’ve ever had the pleasure of showering in.
And speaking of the shower…it has jets…on every wall.
That’s a lot of shower power.
I turn on the spray and look around for toiletries in the drawers and closets. I find toothbrushes, toothpaste, disposable razors, deodorant, shower caps, and a whole assortment of other things that I can’t get to back in the bedroom because I don’t want to wake Aisling.
I quickly brush my teeth and pull on a shower cap before stepping under the hot spray. I stand there for a few minutes, just letting the water run over me. My eyes are squeezed shut and I don’t move a bit, letting the heat relax my tense muscles. My senses are enveloped in the steam which smells like lavender…how?
My God, this au pair life, for as long as it lasts, is going to be a hell of a lot more luxurious than my own personal reality.
I can definitely deal with dirty diapers and spit up and screaming babies for a week in these digs.
I finally drag myself out of the shower after indulging in a host of L’Occitane shower products to the point where I am hella pruney.
But I haven’t felt this relaxed and loose in a long time, even with the knowledge that I am pretty much on my own flying blind right now.
I guess it’s good when the noose loosens a little bit.
You can actually breathe easy since there isn’t a toxic haze hovering in the air around you.
I towel off with a thick, fluffy bath sheet and wrap it around me, cursing myself for not bringing in a change of clothes. Now I’m going to have to drag one of my bags out into the hallway because I’m certain the rustling sounds will wake Aisling. I slather myself with rich-scented moisturizer and pull a brush through my hair before grabbing one of Heaven’s perfume bottles and dousing myself with it.
I stare at my reflection in the mirror, running a finger over the five-pointed star on my left breast. I wasn’t careful about hiding it at Tatiana and Dante’s mouth was definitely feasting on my boob. I can’t let him see it now. The secrecy combined with the symbol of my mafia life would not be a good thing for him to discover. I got lucky last night when my dress was hanging off my body and he didn’t spot it. I can’t take that chance again. I rummage in one of the drawers and pull out a small Band-Aid. The tattoo is small and perfectly concealed once I place the adhesive over it.
I let out a deep, shuddering breath.
It doesn’t seem possible that only twenty-four hours ago I was plunging a knife into the throat of Vigo Kosolov, and now I’m in charge of a tiny baby on the opposite side of the country.
But here I am.
Still starving, by the way.
I grab the baby monitor and shut off the bathroom light before I head back into my bedroom. I hold the towel tight around myself and pick up one of my bags, hoping it’s the one that has my pajamas in it.
I make it into the hallway and let out the breath I’d been holding. You can hear a pin drop, it’s so quiet. Instead of unzipping the bag right outside of my door, I carry it to the front of the apartment, as far away from her as possible and dig around my things. Dante must have turned off the lights because the only shred of light illuminating the place is courtesy of the Strip below.
My fingers close around a pair of flimsy pajamas and I grab them, dropping the towel and pulling them on quickly. I take a deep breath, the scent of food still lingering in the air.
I rub my belly. “Easy, girl,” I whisper. “Let’s see if we can find any leftovers for you.”
I place the monitor on the kitchen island and open the refrigerator door, peering inside when a heavy feeling comes over me. My pulse throbs inexplicably and a chill slithers down my spine.
Someone’s eyes are on me.
I slowly close the refrigerator and take a tentative step backward.
Have I been compromised?
What if my uncle really was taken? Tortured? Killed?
Would he have given me up?
Was this whole thing a setup?
My mind is going a mile a minute with all of the possible scenarios…
For all I know, Dante could have gone out on the town, leaving me alone with Aisling. It’s not like we left on good terms before I stormed off, leaving him with that feast…
I swallow hard, the glimmer of a steep blade catching my eye. In a flash, I grab the knife and spin around, ready to attack. A strong hand grabs my wrist, slamming it back against the refrigerator as he slaps his other hand over my mouth.
Cool blue eyes glitter back at me and I bite down hard on Dante’s thick fingers. He lets out a silent yell and pulls his hand away from me.
“You fucking asshole!” I hiss. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”
“I was trying not to scare you,” he growls.
“Oh, good plan!” I whisper. “I could have killed you! I might still!”
He rolls his eyes, letting out a little chuckle. “Your instincts are pretty good. Not good enough, though.”
I gasp. “Screw you! It’s pitch black and the middle of the night!”
He lifts an eyebrow. “You got any other excuses?”
I grit my teeth. He’s right. He totally had me right then. That knife was absolutely useless in my hand while he had it pinned to the refrigerator. If it had been a real break-in, a real assailant, what the hell would I have done? How would I have protected myself?
And Aisling?
“What the hell are you doing?” I hiss.
“Well, I was trying to get your attention without you screaming your pretty head off.”
“And that’s the best you could come up with?”
He shrugs. “I figured if I called out to you while I was on the couch watching you change, you might have screamed.”
My eyes widen to the point where they might just pop out of my skull. “You watched me change? You sick fuck!”
“You know, your language is really not appropriate for tiny ears,” he murmurs. “I think we might need to work on that.”
“ We don’t have anything to work on!” I push past him, not intending to give him the satisfaction of eating a single morsel of his food after that stunt. “Now, if you’ll please fuck off, I’m going back to bed!”
He captures my waist with his thick, muscled arm, pulling me backward. “Why? You’re afraid I might expose you?”
My heart stills. “What in the fresh hell is that supposed to mean?”
His breath is hot against my ear. “You’re afraid I’ll let my brother and sister-in-law know that you like to drop your clothes in front of windows? That you pretend to be horrified when you find out you were watched but that you secretly love knowing someone’s eyes are on you, caressing every curve of your body?”
Oh God…
Tingles shoot through my core as his grip on me tightens.
“You felt me,” he whispers. “You know you did.”
I nod. “Yes,” I rasp.
“What would you have done if you saw me watching you, Anya? Would you have climbed on top of me? Rubbed that pussy against my hard cock?” His hand travels up my back, his fingers tangling in my hair.
What kind of assassin gets sidetracked by cock? Huh?
Well, evidently, this one does.
I let out a tiny whimper as he tugs my hair, forcing my head backward.
“Now why don’t you tell me what you’re really hungry for?” he grunts, spinning me around and lifting my body into his strong arms. “Because you may have thought it was food you wanted, but…” He pushes aside my panties and slides his fingers into my pussy, balancing me in one arm. “Your body tells me it had something else in mind. Something hot, something dirty, and something very fucking bad.”
“What about the…the baby?” I squeak out. “She’s going to wake up soon. She’s been sleeping for a while…”
“Well, then, I’d advise you not to scream too loud,” he says, a devilish smirk on his face. He backs me against the window and lets me down, my feet hitting the cold tile as I slide down the front of his body. He drops to his knees, pushing my shorts and panties down to my ankles and forcing my legs open. When his tongue dips into my pussy, a gasp escapes my lips. My ass presses against the clear glass as his mouth executes a delicious assault on me. Demanding fingertips dig hard into my flesh as he plunders me with his tongue, taunting my clit with gentle nips of his teeth. I fist his hair, my head falling back against the glass as I thrust my hips into his hungry mouth. Every nerve sizzles under the erotic spell he’s cast on my body, blood rushing between my ears as the orgasm tears through me, leaving me breathless and starved for more.
Ripples of ecstasy cascade over me as his tongue makes a path for my mouth. He lifts the hem of my shirt and slips it over my head, letting it flutter to the floor. Then he continues massaging my flesh with his devious tongue…until he gets to my Band-Aid.
And I swear for a split second, he knows.
He runs his finger over it and I can’t bear to open my eyes because he’ll see the truth in them if I do.
Instead, I let out a tiny mewl and a soft giggle. “Are you trying to torture me?” I whisper, dragging my fingernails down his back.
“No…” he says slowly. “What happened here?”
“Oh, Aisling scratched me,” I murmur, running my hands down either side of his torso. “Her nails are so sharp! I need to ask Heaven where the nail clipper is tomorr?—”
He doesn’t even let me finish my sentence before he crushes his lips against mine, tugging at my lower lip with his teeth. His demanding hands grip my hips tight, sliding around to my ass and clenching the flesh to the point I squeal, partially out of pleasure, and partially because I can’t compute how he just morphed into this animalistic alter ego.
And it’s a little disturbing, quite frankly.
He can’t know, can he?
I played it off.
He’d have called me out if he didn’t buy my excuse.
Then again, he expects me to have a bunch of them stored up…
I try to ignore all of these annoying voices in my head, totally cockblocking me right now.
He doesn’t know, okay!
So all of you just shut the fuck up!
I push his shorts to the floor, and grasp his long, hard shaft in my hand, pulling away slightly to bring the palm of my hand to my mouth. I lick it and grasp his cock, rubbing harder and faster as he attacks my mouth with the same voracity he did last night.
The kind that makes my entire body shudder.
The kind that makes my skin sizzle under his fingertips.
The kind that makes me so wet, so lustful, and so ready to feel him inside of me.
He closes his hand around mine, positioning the tip at my entrance, dragging it up and down and pressing it against my clit.
“Fuck me, Dante,” I breathe. “Fuck me against this window!”
He lets out a low groan and pushes inside of me, my walls stretching around him. I gasp, it burns. Oh, God, it fucking burns, but in a good way.
The best way, actually.
He thrusts deep inside of me, slow at first. Then, he lifts my leg and leans it against his hip, just like he did the other night.
And holy fuck, I want to scream because the pleasure coursing through me is so intense, I almost forget who I am and why I’m here.
Occupational hazard.
He drives his hips into me, pounding me harder and harder and I pant for breath. His lips crash into mine, his hands fisting my hair as he fucks me against the glass for the entire Las Vegas Strip to see.
Then, he lifts my other leg and balances me in his arms, his cock throbbing, pressing deeper and deeper as he angles my legs. Sparks in my belly ignite, shooting out to the tips of my fingers and toes. Our bodies slap together, the scent of sex and sweat intermingling in the air around us. I throw my head back, hitting it hard against the glass.
“Fuck,” I moan. “Oh my God, that feels so incredible. Make me come, Dante. Come with me now!”
“I’m not wearing a?—”
“I don’t care!” I pant, choking on my labored breaths. “I’m on the pill!”
A guttural roar erupts from his throat and his movements speed up. I dig my teeth into his shoulder to stifle the scream that threatens to escape, a flash of bright white light exploding across my eyes with the same intensity as the explosive force that shatters me from the inside out.
Dante thrusts a couple of more times before tremors rock his body and he collapses against me, both of us struggling for breath. He collapses against me, his chest heaving.
“Fuck me,” he murmurs.
“Yeah, I just did,” I say, huffing and puffing myself. “And it was amazing.”
“It was…” he says, staring into my eyes with an intensity that makes the hairs on my skin prickle. “Different…but not…”
I furrow my brow, letting out a breathless chuckle. “You’re not making much sense right now. Did the orgasm fry your brain?”
“Maybe,” he mutters, dragging a finger back down over my Band-Aid. “You should put something on that so it doesn’t get infected.”
I swallow hard and nod. “Okay, I’ll check in the bathroom. I’m sure there’s something in there.”
In a strange kind of daze, he bends down to pick up my pajamas and I put them back on quickly, running a hand through my hair. “I wonder what time Matteo and Heaven will be home,” I say, desperately trying to fill the silence.
Dante stares out the window at the bright lights below. “They aren’t used to being out this late. Matteo is probably falling asleep in his dessert right now.”
My stomach growls at the mention of food and I rub a hand over it. “Speaking of dessert…is there any chance you didn’t finish all of that food before?”
He looks at me, those blue eyes lancing me with unanswered questions and unconfirmed suspicions. But he doesn’t ask anything.
He just stares.
And that is way more torturous, in my opinion.
So looking at me all day long didn’t give away my identity, but fucking me did?
I’ll never understand men.
But knowing where his head is at right now means I have to be even more careful.
“There’s still some in the fridge. Come on, I’ll heat it up for you.” He flashes a half-smile. “Tommy is very specific with the instructions for re-heating his food. If you fuck it up, you’ll ruin the flavors or some shit. I don’t know. I guess if I were a culinary wizard I’d care more, but when I’m hungry…” A wicked glimmer in his eyes makes goosebumps shoot up my legs and down my arms. “I’m just gonna take it, however I can get it.”
I nod, forcing a smile. “I’m starving, so I promise I won’t be picky.”
I follow Dante into the kitchen, watching the moonlight bounce off of his muscled back, his smooth, bronze skin glistening. I long to run my fingers over it again, to feel his biceps tense as I rub my hands down his thick arms. I want to trace the outline of his pecs with my tongue. I want to?—
“You allergic to anything?” Dante asks, interrupting my delicious fantasy as he walks into the kitchen.
“Not that I know of,” I murmur, patting down the front of my pajama shirt where it hits my Band-Aid.
He turns to give me a long look, drinking me in from head to toe. But there’s conflict in his eyes.
I can see the hunger, the longing, and the lust.
But I can also feel the suspicion. It’s heavy in the air around us, picking away at his desire like a fingernail scratching a scab.
He wants me but doesn’t know exactly who I am.
I feel the same inner conflict and it’s tearing me apart.
I want him but know I can never…will never…have him.
Especially after I complete my objective and bring his whole family to its knees.
The fantasy of a happy and perfect future for me will always be just out of reach.
It’s the life I chose, not that there was much choice in the matter.
If I wanted to live, I had to go down a path.
Now I’m in so deep, there is no way out.
I’m trapped in my life like a rat in a dirty, dark maze.
I wander, I hunt, and I avenge.
Period.
There’s no happily ever after for me.
I’m not like those romance novel heroines at all.
Damaged? Check.
Broken. Check.
Redeemable? Fuck no!
And girls who can’t be redeemed never find their true loves.
That’s their punishment, I guess. Their lot in life.
Their curse.
I busy myself by taking the food packages out of the refrigerator as Dante heats up the oven. He’s muttering something about temperatures to himself and I sneak a peek at him as he fiddles with the buttons on the oven.
What the hell is his story?
Because for as many lies choking me, I’m two-hundred percent sure that he’s burying just as many.
He doesn’t really know who I am, but he keeps himself pretty guarded, too.
And even though I know I should leave it alone, I can’t.
I want to know the truth.
I want to know exactly who I’m falling for…the first person who’s turned me inside out like this in so long, I can’t even remember the last time it happened.
If ever.
I lean against the counter next to him, watching him load the tin containers onto the racks. “I’m kind of surprised you didn’t devour it all,” I say.
He turns his head toward me. “I guess I lost my appetite, too,” he says gruffly.
“Sorry,” I say softly.
He shrugs. “Hey, everyone deals with things in their own way. I don’t criticize. I have my own shit to handle and I know I screw it up plenty.” He chuckles. “But I screw up less than my other brothers, so there’s that.”
“Yeah…” I murmur, a faraway smile tugging at my lips.
“So what are you planning to study at UNLV?” he asks, completely knocking me off my game and catching me tangled in my salacious highlight reel.
“Oh,” I say, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “Business.”
Dante nods, closing the oven door and taking a seat at the kitchen island. “Seems like a smart choice.”
I shrug. “I figure it’ll help me get set up for a job.”
“What do you wanna do when you graduate?”
Heat flares in my cheeks as I try to come up with a response. Nobody has ever asked me this question before because my ‘job’ is already kind of set in stone as far as anyone knows.
And since I barely finished high school and have zero plans to get a legitimate job, I’m completely caught off-guard. Finally, I just force a laugh and shrug. “Does anyone really know what they want to do once they graduate?”
He quirks an eyebrow. “I think people generally know what kind of skills they have and how they can put them to the best use. And make the most money from them. You have any specific skills, Anya?”
“You mean, other than childcare?” I say, snickering.
“Yeah, that’s exactly what I mean,” he says, his eyes darkening. “I have a feeling that there’s a lot more to you than meets the eye.”
“Sorry to disappoint you,” I say, struggling to keep my voice even. “But I’m definitely a ‘what you see is what you get’ kind of girl. I love kids, reading romance novels, and warm weather.”
“So there is more to add to my list,” he says.
“You know, you keep digging into me but…” I say, picking up the knife from the kitchen counter and twirling it around my fingers. “You were awfully skilled with that little knife trick earlier. You know, the one where you managed to get it away from me before I had a chance to slit your throat? You grab that one from your own bag of tricks?”
“I wouldn’t call it a trick. I just know how to defend myself.”
“I think that’s more than just defending yourself,” I say quietly. “And definitely not something I’d expect from a real estate investor. I’d imagine you don’t have to defend yourself against too many knife-wielding sellers, yeah?”
“I don’t know about that. I’m a pretty tough negotiator.”
We stand there, dissecting each other’s words as the delicious scents from the oven waft in the air around us.
“I can imagine.”
Dante gets up from the stool, walking over to the oven but then diverting in my direction. He backs me against the refrigerator and laces his fingers with the hand still holding the knife, sending it clattering to the floor. My pulse throbs against my neck as he presses himself against me. “Tell me what you were going to do with that knife, Anya,” he murmurs.
“I was going to protect myself,” I whisper. “And Aisling.”
“How did you know I was there?” he mutters, his forehead almost pressed against mine.
“I just…I felt something. And I didn’t know if you’d gone out. We were alone as far as I knew. Someone could have broken in…”
“Is that what you were expecting?”
“What?” I rasp.
“Waaaaah!”
I jump, Aisling’s shrill cry shattering the air through the baby monitor. I push Dante away from me, my gut clenching as I hurry down the hallway toward my room. I run inside and pick her up from the crib, settling her against my racing heart.
Jesus! I knew that knife stunt tipped him off!
He is totally onto me.
I walk the baby around until her cries turn into soft whimpers. I know I need to feed her, but I also need to get my head screwed on straight. I have to give him something…anything…to get him to trust me, at least until I get in touch with my uncle.
I let out a shallow breath and walk back toward the kitchen. Dante already has a bottle ready for her. He must have mixed it when I went to my room. He reaches out and she jumps into his arms, clawing at his hands until the nipple is secured between her lips.
“Thank you,” I say. “You know, um, one of the reasons why I became an au pair is because I spent a lot of time volunteering with orphan babies back in New York.” I don’t even know where that came from, but it sounds good. And it is kind of an extension of a truth. I guess maybe he needs to hear it.
It also sounds like I’m grasping at straws, but I’ll take the risk.
He clearly doesn’t trust me, so why am I making up some stupid bullshit story to throw him off? To ingratiate myself with him?
So I can sleep with him again?
He sinks onto the couch as Aisling nestles into his embrace. “Volunteering, huh?”
“Yes,” I say, walking into the living room. “I started doing it when I was a teenager. My neighborhood in the city had an orphanage and I used to make clothes for the kids.” This is all true. Part of my seamstress therapy with Olga.
But I never had a desire to get close to the kids.
He narrows his eyes at me. “Interesting.”
I shrug. “I just wanted to do something to help.”
“Why?”
A lump forms in my throat. “Because I knew what it was like to not have parents,” I whisper, my voice quivering slightly. I didn’t mean for that to slip out.
I didn’t intend to give him any insight into my past.
But it does feel good to say the words, to open up and speak my truth.
It is one-hundred percent true, too.
“What happened to your parents?” he asks.
I swallow hard past the lump. “There was a break-in at my house. They were both killed. I was only thirteen.”
“That’s horrible. I’m really sorry,” he says. “I lost my mother. I know how hard that is. Can’t imagine losing both of my parents.”
I nod. “Thanks. And I’m sorry for your loss, too.”
An uncomfortable silence permeates the room. I’d intended to quell his curiosity with my tale of woe, but instead, I poured a cup of salt in my now-open wound.
Because I am very much alone, and that fact is more glaring than ever, considering my one lifeline is still MIA.
“Do you have any brothers or sisters?” Dante asks.
“A brother,” I say. “But I don’t see him anymore.”
“That’s rough,” he says. “My brothers and I can go at it pretty hard, but we’re really tight.”
“Sounds nice,” I say softly.
“You should reach out to him. Figure out a way to make things better. It’s family for life, you know?”
Tears spring to my eyes and I blink them away. “ Yes. You’re right. Maybe I should try.”
“Good.” He nods toward the table. “You still hungry?”
“Ravenous,” I say with a shaky laugh.
His lips curl upward into a wicked grin. “I’d love to feast on something other than that porterhouse.”
“I’d love that, too,” I murmur.
“Eat. I’ll hold the baby,” he says, nodding at the food.
“Are you sure?” I ask.
“Just as sure as you were when you said you’d never kiss me again.” He winks. “Don’t devour it all, okay?”
I sit down as he quietly sings a song to Aisling in Italian. The picture of him bent over her, smiling and crooning into her ear actually makes my nipples hard.
It’s beautiful.
Powerful.
And…really fucking sad, if I’m being honest.
This baby…she’s a precious angel who will be just as corrupted, if not worse than, as the rest of her family. Hardened, damaged, and tormented by things she could never change.
The orphaned babies back in Brooklyn…same thing. Maybe they’ll find decent parents, but more likely, they’ll end up living like me.
Committing murders to survive in all senses of the word.
Lying, stealing, doing unspeakable things all in the name of loyalty, expectation, and obligation.
I’m sure Maks never intended that I’d turn out the way I did, but deep down, I bet he knew I’d need skills to live on my own, that he was on borrowed time because of all the missteps he’d made.
So he made sure I learned them and used them.
Me, the orphaned babies, Aisling…we’re all the same.
I’m older, of course. Somewhat free to make my own choices now. But at one time, I, too, had been protected from my family’s mistakes, safe from their poor judgment.
And then I was plunged into a deep, dark hell that I can’t seem to escape.
Part of me wants to fling myself at Dante, to scream at him, to pound my fist into his beautifully chiseled jaw because how dare he contribute to this existence for his niece?
How dare he turn her life upside down?
How dare any of them hurt her?
Because it is inevitable.
I manage to choke down the delectable morsels of food, but my gut is so damn twisted at the poisonous thoughts looping through my mind, I miss it all.
I suddenly feel ultra-protective of her, like I’m the only one who can save her from the evils that lurk everywhere.
How ironic is that? Me, of all people, looking to save someone else.
Before the night my parents were killed, I never thought people were watching us and plotting against us, waiting for an opportunity to strip us of everything we held dear.
I never imagined we’d lose the most important people in our lives so brutally.
“Here, let me take her,” I say, wiping my mouth with a napkin and standing up from the table. “Eat before it gets too cold.” I take her into my arms and settle into the couch cushion. Aisling doesn’t miss a beat. Hell, I don’t even know if she realizes I’ve just stepped in for her adoring uncle.
Her adoring uncle who will never admit who he really is…what he really is.
I should detest him…all of them.
But instead, I just keep drawing parallels.
Finding similarities and connections.
I swallow a groan.
Dammit, they are the enemy!
Or, are they?
Because right now, I don’t have confirmation of anything — no instruction, no clarity, no direction at all.
I’m just caught here in this glamourous alternate reality where I’m perpetually on diaper and spit-up duty, lusting after the forbidden.
Somehow that seems like it can be even more deadly than any alternative.