Chapter 4 Ilya
FOUR
ILYA
Three days later, I haven’t forgotten Micah.
His beautiful eyes, the sad way he played the cello. The way simply kissing him comforted me and aroused me, despite how little I’ve cared for kissing in the past.
But his “partner” is a cop.
Oh, he’d tried to deny it, but after Silvano Cresci pointed it out, it had been obvious. The stance, the boots, the way he spoke.
What is a police officer but a thug hired by the government? State-sanctioned brutality. I’m familiar with it from Russia, and I learned quickly that despite how America pretends to be better than the rest of the world, in the end, people are the same.
I want to track Micah down and pull him away from this police officer, but Silvano Cresci made it clear that I can’t risk it.
Which is why I’m now meeting with Silvano and his underboss Cristiano Fiore.
I’m still not sure about the power dynamics here. When I’d first approached the Crescis for a potential alliance, I’d dealt with Cristiano Fiore. He’s closer to my age, and I like his clear way of communicating. He’s straightforward.
Then around the time Silvano Cresci’s father was murdered, something changed. Silvano took over communications and became much more insistent I deal with him—the new head of the family—directly.
More politics.
Silvano Cresci enters my office, and his eyes immediately fall on the aquarium on the far wall. He’s always fascinated by the fish—or he pretends to be because he knows how much pride I take in my aquariums.
Cristiano Fiore is less keen on the fish. When he gestures, the two guards they brought with them take their designated spots along the wall.
We’re colleagues, but we don’t quite trust each other.
Trust isn’t easy to come by in this world.
“Did you get new fish?” Silvano asks, stepping closer to the aquarium. “I don’t remember these colorful ones.”
He’s only been at this particular location two times. How would he even remember which fish I had here?
I nod, shifting in my armchair. “Yes. They are called…” I stop, trying to remember the name in English. “Discus fish.”
“They’re nice,” Cristiano says. He looks pointedly at Silvano, even though Silvano isn’t paying any attention to him. “Thank you for agreeing to meet with us, Ilya.”
I nod and scratch my beard. “Of course. You said you had a new opportunity to discuss?”
Silvano finally breaks away from the aquarium to take a seat on the leather couch, right in the middle.
“I do. I’m sure you heard of the trouble we had down south—I’m not going to insult your intelligence by trying to deny it. But I was talking with Konstantin Voronkov… Do you know the Voronkovs?”
I sigh. Yes, of course I’ve heard of Konstantin Voronkov. The Voronkovs are the largest of the Russian groups in New Bristol. There’d been some upheaval a few months ago, but I’d kept my head down through it all and taken advantage of the confusion.
Things change so fast.
I was mostly content to take things as they went.
Until Artyom betrayed me.
Two years of stealing from me. Two years of pretending to have my best interests at heart, only for me to discover he’d been skimming from the profits.
Five months of informing to the police
He was going to destroy me.
I couldn’t forgive that.
I look down at my hands again. I haven’t had nightmares about it for the past three nights. My thoughts were mostly occupied with—
“Of course, you’re better versed in the whole gambling business. There’s also the matter of law enforcement, and…” Silvano trails off. “Am I boring you, Ilya?”
“Yes,” I answer automatically. I look up at them, and I notice Cristiano biting his lip to suppress a smile. “Silvano, you’re married to a man. How did you do it?”
Boris shifts uncomfortably near the door. Everybody here knows about Silvano Cresci, and they all know he is too powerful to insult to his face. That doesn’t mean they are comfortable with it.
I’ve never cared what people did in their own bedrooms.
When it was suggested that I take over the New Bristol operations of our bratva, I jumped at the chance.
An escape from the narrow world in St. Petersburg!
By all rights, it was a demotion, a way to get me out of the way after my father’s death.
They had meant to ensure I wouldn’t attempt to wrest power from his former second-in-command, but I never saw it that way.
Out of sight, out of mind, works both ways.
I can do things here that I would never have dared to do at home.
Like kissing Micah.
“Well, it turns out, you simply go to the courthouse and sign a marriage certificate,” Silvano says glibly. He nudges Cristiano. “Did you know it was that easy, Cristiano? Anyone can do it.”
Cristiano casts a dark look in his direction. “Yes, I’m aware. Thank you, Silvano, for that enlightening information.” He crosses his arms against his chest. “There are mafia men who are with other men, yes. And they still command respect.”
Like Silvano Cresci, he means.
“That was what I meant.” I agree. “But Kyran Winters, he’s strong too.
He protects himself.” I look over Silvano, who is slim and impeccably dressed, with his golden hair brushed back.
He doesn’t erupt into violent outbursts the way many men in our line of business do, but he has that air that makes people want to listen to him.
Micah is nothing like Silvano or Kyran though. He can’t take care of himself.
He needs somebody to cherish him.
Not like that cop.
“All right, I can see that we’re getting nowhere.” Silvano looks at his guards. “Evan, Knives, could you have Boris and the other men show you the poker rooms? Maybe you can all exchange tips about guns or cock sizes or whatever macho men like you all do.”
Boris starts coughing loudly.
Silvano’s guards both shake their heads.
“No can do, boss,” the one he’d called Evan says.
“It’s fine,” Cristiano says. They exchange a long look, then Cristiano turns that piercing gaze onto the other man, Knives. “Go.”
Evan’s eyes are narrowed, but he knows better than to undermine his bosses in front of me. “Yeah. Let’s have that tour. Quickly.”
Boris looks over to me. “Boss? I don’t trust them,” he says in Russian. “I can kick them all out.”
To both our surprise, Silvano says, in very broken Russian, “I am trustworthy. Very.” He winks at me. “My new brother-in-law has been teaching me,” he adds in English.
Boris turns beet red. I motion him away. “It’s fine. Go keep the guards busy. I can handle Cresci,” I say in Russian.
I’m not sure if Silvano understood that part, since he doesn’t react to it.
The guards all filter out of the room. Silvano waits for the door to click shut before he leans forward and says, “Okay, you clearly aren’t thinking straight. Pun intended. You liked the boy from the bar?”
Cristiano visibly starts, but his body relaxes as he catches himself. “Boy from the bar?” he repeats.
“Kyran and I tried a new open mic bar the other night,” Silvano explains.
“There was a cellist there—very talented. I mean, you know I prefer guitars, but…” He looks around, as if the guards are still in the room to eavesdrop.
“Let’s be serious. Kyran is an amateur, and I love the raw quality of his playing, but the cellist is good enough to be a professional. ”
I nod along. “Yes. Micah’s performance was divine. It was…” I think back to the sad cello music, the way the notes had reflected my mood back and made me feel seen. No longer alone, despite how I can’t tell anyone about the dark side of my world.
“Then after a good ten minutes of making out in the back like teenagers—”
My eyebrows go up. “You saw that?”
Silvano laughs. “Yes. Kyran’s jaw dropped to the floor, he was so shocked. I honestly never picked up on it, and I thought I had a good gaydar.”
Five years in America, and some of the slang still escapes me.
“But…?” Cristiano prompts, cutting past any chance I have of responding. “Is it just the mob’s infamous homophobia that has you hesitating and asking for advice, or is there something else going on?”
“Well, then the cop showed up,” Silvano finishes. “I thought all the pigs were on the take, but this one didn’t change his tune when he found out who I was. He honestly thought we wouldn’t notice he was a cop. The shoes alone made it obvious.”
“Wait, a homophobic cop showed up to break up the kissing?” Cristiano frowns. “Not that I expect better from the pigs.”
“No,” I interrupt. “It was not because of the kissing. The cop was Micah’s ex-boyfriend. Micah said they had broken up.”
I scowl. I think he’d said that. But the cop hadn’t acted like they’d been broken up.
Perhaps Micah was using a line, the way I’ve seen men do with women. They pretend to be recently dumped in order to gain sympathy from women.
“People can say a lot of things.” Silvano gives me a pitying expression. “Maybe he was cheating on the cop.”
Anger slams into me. “No. You saw how he reacted. Micah was terrified of the cop. He didn’t want to go with him.”
Cristiano grimaces, then shakes his head. “It’s not your business, Ilya. Because if this Micah has a cop boyfriend, that’s not something you want to go sniffing around. You know that. You’re opening yourself up to a lot of trouble.”
I glare at Cristiano. “You think I’d be interested in other men? I want Micah, not a different twinkie.”
Silvano covers his mouth to hide a laugh. “Twink, Ilya. Young, skinny men are called twinks. Do you know any twinks, Cristiano? Maybe… oh, a redhead. I’m sure Ilya can appreciate a pretty redhead.”
It’s Cristiano’s turn to glare. “No. I wouldn’t know a single redhead who’s available,” he says, emphasizing the word before he turns back to me.
“I don’t want a redhead, or any other twink,” I say firmly. “Only Micah.”