Chapter 26 Raven
RAVEN
The clang of what sounds like someone searching through my cabinet drawers startles me awake. I hear Gio mumbling to himself and smile. I stretch, and my aching muscles remind me of last night's activities.
"Shit!" I bolt upright, my heart hammering. "Shit, shit, shit."
The pill.
I forgot to take my birth control pill last night. After everything that happened, we lay in bed talking until we fell asleep, then the nightmare—Gio holding me—ugh, it completely slipped my mind.
I throw off the covers and scramble out of bed, nearly tripping over them in my haste to get to the bathroom. My heart pounds as I yank open the medicine cabinet, fumbling for the little pink pack of birth control pills.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck," I mutter, popping out yesterday's pill and swallowing it dry. I stare at my wild-eyed reflection in the mirror. What the hell was I thinking? How could I have been so careless?
It's okay, relax, I tell myself.
I'm a little late. It's not ideal, but not a complete disaster either.
While I'm here, I might as well take care of the rest. I pee quickly, then grab my toothbrush, scrubbing away morning breath as I try to calm my thoughts.
Everything's fine, Raven. One missed pill isn't the end of the world.
I rinse and splash some cold water on my face. When I look in the mirror, I see some marks Gio left on my neck last night. It's kind of hot.
Another noise from the kitchen snaps me back to reality.
I walk out to find Gio—dangerous, powerful, feared-by-many Gio—frowning at my coffee maker like it's personally offended him. He's wearing just his boxer briefs, and the sight of all those tattoos on display makes me want to go another round with him.
"How the hell do you turn this thing on?" he asks, not looking up from his intense study of the machine.
I can't help but laugh. "Having trouble there, tough guy?"
Gio turns, his eyes raking over me appreciatively.
"I could make a joke about turning things on," he says with a smile, "but I think we both know I have no trouble in that department."
I roll my eyes, but I can feel heat creeping up my neck. "Cocky much?"
"Very," he replies, closing the distance between us in two long strides. His hands find my waist, tugging me flush against him. "Good morning, by the way."
"Morning," I murmur, tilting my head back to meet his gaze. "Sleep well?"
He leans down and gives me a kiss. "How could I not, being next to you?"
"Smooth," I say and give him another kiss.
Gio turns back to the coffee machine. "I was trying to make us coffee, but this damn old machine won't turn on."
"Old?" I gasp in mock offense. "I'll have you know this is a top-of-the-line model. From ten years ago."
He laughs.
"What?" I say and playfully shove past him. "Is there coffee grounds in here?"
"Yes, and water."
"Here, you just have to—" I give it three solid taps on the side, and the machine gurgles to life. "See? Top-of-the-line."
"Jesus, Raven, I'm buying you a new one."
I shrug, and a few minutes later, I lean against the counter, sipping my coffee and watching Gio.
"You know," he says, taking another sip, "this isn't terrible, but you deserve better."
I roll my eyes. "My coffee maker works just fine."
"I'm not just talking about the coffee maker. All of this. You should be in a spacious home with actual working appliances, not ones that need physical abuse to function."
I laugh and look around. "This is fine for me living alone."
Gio stops mid sip and looks at me, "Well, maybe you wont live alone forever."
"Oh? You volunteering to be my roommate? I hope you know I leave dishes in the sink and steal all the blankets."
He shakes his head with a slight smile. "I need to take care of some things today."
Of course he does. The real world intrudes yet again.
"I've arranged to have men stationed at the gallery," he continues, setting down his coffee cup. "After your nightmare, I thought—"
"I'm fine," I cut him off, perhaps too quickly with a slight lie. The memory of the dream is still very much present, but I think I'm okay. "Really. The dream was just my brain processing everything."
He steps closer, cupping my face with his hand. "You were screaming, Raven."
I swallow hard, looking away. "It was just a dream."
"Maybe." His thumb traces my lower lip. "But I've already arranged it. My men will keep watch, make sure you're safe. I can have more stationed if you want."
"No," I say firmly, finally meeting his eyes. "What you have is enough. More than enough, actually." I manage a small smile. "Thank you, though. For taking care of me." I stand on my tiptoes to give him a soft kiss on his lips.
When he pulls back, his eyes are dark. "Always."
He heads into my bedroom and changes into his clothes.
At the door, he turns back. "I'll see you later."
I nod, coffee cup warm in my hands. "I can't wait."
He gives me one last heated look before leaving, and I listen to his footsteps fade down the hall, already missing his presence.
I finish my coffee and hop in the shower. The hot water feels like heaven against my skin.
I dress carefully, choosing a high-necked blouse to hide the evidence of Gio's possessiveness. A pencil skirt and heels complete the look—professional, put-together, definitely not someone who spent last night being thoroughly devoured by a dangerous mafia man.
I add some makeup, and I'm out the door. I spot one of Gio's men smoking a cigarette, and he gives me a slight nod as I walk into the gallery.
Morgan is walking out of her office and sees me.
"Good morning," she chirps cheerfully. She holds out a stack of papers. "These need your signature. Mostly insurance forms for the new shipment."
I settle into my chair, uncapping my pen. "Thanks. Any other fires I need to put out this morning?"
"Nothing urgent." Morgan hovers, fidgeting with her sleeve. "So, how was last night?"
I can't help the smile that spreads across my face as I sign the papers. "It was nice. The music was beautiful."
I try not to look up, just keep scribbling my name on the forms, trying to keep my happiness hidden, but I can feel Morgan's eyes on me.
"Wait a minute," Morgan's eyes widen. "That's too big a smile. Are you—" she stops and lowers her voice, "are you falling for the security guy?"
I can feel the heat creeping up my neck and my face threatening to turn red. "What? No, I—"
"Oh my God, you are!" Morgan's eyes are wide. "I mean, I get it. His body is..." She waves her hands, fanning herself dramatically. "Please tell me you'll set me up with his Greek god of a friend, Ares."
I laugh, grateful for her lightness. "I thought you were interested in Danny?"
"That's kind of dwindling, I don't know. But, hey, a girl's got to keep her options open," she says with a wink. "I mean, those abs should be illegal," she adds, giggling.
I'm about to tease her when I notice her expression changes abruptly, all humor draining from her face.
"Raven..."
"What?" I ask, still smiling.
She doesn't answer immediately, her gaze fixed on something—or someone—behind me.
She swallows hard. "Is that your dad?"
My heart stops. I turn slowly, following Morgan's line of sight to the gallery entrance.
And there he is. My father.
Looking only slightly better than when I last saw him in that warehouse.
His eye isn't so swollen, but the bruises covering his face have turned black with tints of green as they heal.
He's wearing a long trench coat and hat, and he limps as he steps further into the gallery, his eyes darting nervously around before landing on me.
He finally makes his way over to us and doesn't even acknowledge Morgan.
"Ravenna," he says, his voice rough. "We need to talk."
I turn to Morgan and nod, and she forces a smile before walking away.
"What?"
He shakes his head and looks over his shoulder at Gio's man, who's making no attempt to hide the fact that he's staring at us. "Not here. Downstairs."
I sigh and walk down to the basement, fuming. When we reach the bottom, I turn to him and clench my fists.
"What the hell are you doing here?" I hiss.
My father takes another step forward, wincing. "Please, just hear me out. I can explain everything."
"Explain?" I laugh. "Explain how you sold me to the Russian mafia? How you were willing to let me become the property of someone else?"
"Ravenna, please. I had no choice. They'll kill us. Kill us both."
"Bull. You had a choice. You always had a choice."
He shakes his head, desperation etched into every line of his face. "No, you don't understand. These people, they're not like us. They're not normal. They're animals."
I sigh and roll my eyes.
"Please, Ravenna. Just listen." My father's voice cracks, and something inside me breaks a little. Despite everything, he's still my father. "There are only two ways out of this."
I cross my arms, trying to hold myself together. "And those are?"
"The first..." He swallows hard. "Mistress of Alexei Volkov, son of the man who runs the Russian syndicate. He's young, very wealthy, and—"
"No." The word comes out like a whip crack. "Absolutely not."
"He would take care of you, they assure me. Give you anything you want. The finest clothes, jewelry, a life of luxury—"
"Stop it!" My voice echoes off the basement walls. "I'm not some damn commodity to be traded!"
"The other option," he glances around nervously before continuing, "we could forge enough paintings to pay them back."
"Excuse me?"
He takes another step toward me. "Think about it, Ravenna. Your skills. Your expertise in restoration. With your talents, we could do this."
"You want me to commit fraud?" The words taste bitter in my mouth.
He winces and shifts his stance. "In this kind of situation, I think it's what your mother would have wanted."
The mention of my mother hits me like a physical blow, and my anger rises to new heights.
"Don't you fucking dare," I yell. "Don't you dare use her like that."
"What? Think about it. You don't understand what they'll do to us if we don't comply. They'll kill me," he whispers. "And you—God, Ravenna, the things they'll do to you."
"Sorry, Dad, but I'm not interested in any of this."
"She would understand. She would want you safe," he presses. "She would want us to survive this."
I press my fingers against my temples, trying to think straight. I feel so many conflicting emotions that I'm nauseous.
"The Russians," my father continues, his voice soft, persuasive, "they're not people you can run from. Not even your new friend can protect you forever."
My chest tightens at the mention of Gio. What would he think if he knew I was even considering this? And more importantly, was my dad right? Would my mom want me to step up and help?
"How much?" I ask, hating myself for it.
"Forty-two million."
"Jesus Christ, Dad."
"With your skills, we could do it. I know we can. We'll create pieces that would pass any inspection. We just need to sell them. The Russians originally said they'd supply the buyers—they just want their money or..." He doesn't finish.
He's right. I could do it. I know techniques that even most experts don't understand. Ways to age canvases, paints—everything.
"I can't believe you're asking me to do this," I say, tears forming in my eyes.
"I know it's not fair," he says softly. "But it's the only way, Ravenna."
"Your mom built this gallery, and now we need to save it." He steps closer, taking my hands in his. They're trembling. "Please, Ravenna. Help me fix this. For our family. For your mother's legacy."
I close my eyes, trying to think. The logical part of my brain is screaming at me to say no, to turn to Gio and let him handle this mess. But the emotional part—the daughter part that still loves my father despite everything—is wavering and pulling me in the opposite direction.
I take a deep breath. "If I do this," I say slowly, not looking at him, "it doesn't make things right between us. You understand that?"
I hear him exhale sharply. "I know. But it's a start, isn't it?"
Taking a step back, I look at him. "One condition. We do this my way. No shortcuts, no risks. And when it's done, you disappear. I run this place, you go wherever, and I don't want to see you again."
The pain in his eyes is almost unbearable, but he nods. "Whatever you want, Ravenna. I just want you safe."
"Fine," I say, my voice cold. "I'll help. What do we need to do?"
He straightens up and almost smiles. "I'll come back this evening with everything we need. Canvases, paints, the works. You focus on researching which pieces will fetch the highest prices without raising too many eyebrows."
I nod, already mentally cataloging which artists would be easiest to replicate. "How long do we have?"
"Two weeks," he says grimly. "After that, all bets are off. But if we can give them a chunk of cash, I think they'll give us more time."
"Jesus," I mutter, scratching my head. "Okay. Get what we need. I'll start planning."
He pulls me into an awkward hug that I don't return, then hurries up the stairs, leaving me alone with the ghost of my mother and the crushing knowledge that I've just agreed to potentially destroy everything she built if we get caught.
My hands shake as I reach for the raven tattoo on my wrist. "I'm sorry, Mom," I whisper to the empty room. "I don't know what else to do."