Chapter 22
TWENTY-TWO
Gabriele
The minute Lukas steps into my study I know something is wrong.
It's been four hours since Katya left. She was planning to have lunch with her mother, which she clearly imagined was going to be an ordeal, then shop for a dress for tonight's meeting with Maroni.
That, she was looking forward to. She left here with plans to bankrupt me that not even she could achieve.
I hadn't expected her to be back yet. But I know from Lukas's face she isn't going to return. His expression is one I've seen before. It's how he looks when he's carrying news he doesn't quite know how to deliver.
"What happened?" I get to my feet.
"Katya's security team didn't check in with Eduardo. He thought it was a problem with the mobile network or something so he went down there himself." Lukas pauses. "He found Santo's car dumped behind Daniele's."
The room goes very still. Blood whooshes through my ears and I reach out to steady myself with a palm on the desk.
"And?"
Lukas closes his eyes briefly. "Santo, Francesco, Roberto. They're all dead."
"And Katya?"
"Gone."
For a moment I feel like time has stopped. I stare at Lukas, waiting for him to — what? I stumble backward and drop onto my chair. Lukas crosses the room and puts his hand on my arm.
"We will find her, fratello." His voice is measured, deliberate as he makes that vow. "But I need you here. Can you do that?"
"I can do it."
"Good." He moves on immediately, the way he does, giving me no space to fall apart in. "We think her mother was involved. Her plane left Rome an hour earlier than scheduled."
I close my eye for a moment. Open it. "Call Sev Baranov."
I don't know the Russian well but Niamh, the Lenkovs and my brothers are part of a consortium that does enough business together to warrant the call.
"Okay." Lukas nods. "What about Piotr Reznov?"
I shake my head. My American cousin Olivia married the Bratva boss last year but Reznov barely sets foot in Russia. His ear isn't on the ground the way Baranov's is. "Sev first."
"Do you want me to call Damiano?"
"No." I hold up a hand to forestall Lukas's objection. "I'll call him myself."
If I want my older brother's help after all this time the least I can do is make the call myself. Lukas nods and leaves.
I pick up my phone. Damiano still has the same number.
I know because he messages me frequently, undeterred by my lack of response, to inform me of important business and family matters he thinks will concern me.
I dial his number and he picks up on the second ring, as if he's been waiting for my call.
"Gabriele." His voice carries relief and concern in equal measure.
"My wife…” It's all I get out before the words get caught in my throat.
"We're on our way." He doesn't hesitate, not for a second. He hangs up, no doubt already on the move.
I rest my elbows on the desk and cradle my head in my hands. I told Lukas I could hold it together and I meant it when I said it. But there are so many unknowns in this situation. What if I make the wrong call? What if I get her killed? What if I find her too late?
I open the bottom drawer of my desk and take out the drawing of Katya. It isn't right. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't get the nose the way I wanted. Her expression is wrong. Too passive.
My wife is anything but docile. That makes me smile.
Whoever has her, she'll give them hell. I trace the outline of her face with my finger.
I need her sitting in the chair by the window with the afternoon light on her face to get it right.
She needs to come back to me. I have to finish the drawing.
As I think about her, I realize she'd kick my ass if she saw me like this. She's never allowed me a moment of weakness. Whenever I struggle, she steps in to lend me her strength. Now she's the one who needs me and I will hold my shit together. I swear I will.
After Lukas calls Baranov and my brothers arrive from Florence, things move fast.
We get on a plane. Sev's people have placed Katya at her father's house in St. Petersburg. By the time we're airborne, Eduardo has the address and Lukas has a floor plan.
Damiano and Lorenzo sit opposite me. Lukas is beside me. Several other men are on board, including my cousin Benito who came from Florence with my brothers, and Nikolai Morozov, who apparently didn't get his fill of carnage the other day.
He showed up unannounced with the air of a man going on a picnic. His calmness is enviable.
It's less awkward with my brothers than I'd braced for. I'd held my breath as they walked into the study but Lorenzo came straight across the room and flung his arms around my neck.
He kissed my cheeks and ruffled my hair as if he, and not I, were the older brother.
Damiano, who has never been one to express his emotions, held me for a long time without saying a word. It felt as if I’d found my family again. Not everything can be fixed by a single hug, but it was a start. I’ve been such an idiot. I should never have cut them from my life.
As the plane levels out and the city disappears below us, I need some distraction. The flight will take almost four hours and I cannot allow myself to get tangled in my own thoughts. I look at my brother.
"Tell me about Violetta. How did you meet?"
"He locked her in his basement and forced her to marry him," Lorenzo says, his eyes alight with mischief.
"That is not what happened." Damiano clenches his jaw.
"Tell us which part was a lie," Benito chips in from his seat across the aisle.
Damiano takes a breath. "Violetta is strong, intelligent, creative. She's the most compassionate woman I've ever met."
"I remember."
The way she came to me, a complete stranger, at my mother's funeral and offered me comfort. As I think about that day I realize she did exactly what Katya would in that situation. She pretended she was the one who couldn't face going in alone, so I had to step up and help her.
"You're a lucky man,” I say. And so am I.
"Pah!" Lorenzo waves a hand dismissively. I know what's about to happen before he speaks.
My brothers have been competitive about everything since childhood. It seems that extends to who has the better wife.
"But can she cook? Not like my Lucia."
“Your wife has a Michelin star," Damiano says drily. "Few people can compete with that."
"A Michelin star?" I hadn't heard about this.
"Yes, we got the news this morning. We were celebrating when this one dragged me from my wife's embrace and told me we were heading for Rome."
Lorenzo looks at me and realizes that telling me he was having sex with his wife when I called for help might not be the best idea. He clears his throat. "
What about Katya? Can she cook?" he asks,
I pause, genuinely unsure what the answer to that question is.
We've been married for weeks now and I have no idea if she cooks.
I'm guessing not, since she's never offered to help Maria.
Bratva princesses are raised to warm their husbands' beds and bear their children, not put home-cooked food on the table.
"I…uh…" My voice falters.
Lukas puts his hand on my shoulder. "You've been married for five minutes, Gabriele. You'll learn all you need to know about her."
"Will I?" What if this is it? The few weeks we spent together might be all we had.
Lukas nods. "Of course you will. Knowing Katya, we'll arrive in St. Petersburg to find her in charge of the Kuznetov Bratva."
I smile at that.
"Sounds like a formidable woman," Damiano says.
"She is."
"I liked her when we spoke." Lorenzo surprises me by adding.
"When did you speak to my wife?"
"Your birthday. She called to thank me for the wine. You're welcome, by the way."
I didn't know about that. Maybe I should be monitoring her calls more closely.
First Lorenzo and then her mother. I can't allow her to keep contacting people without my approval, not when she makes dubious choices.
When I get her back I'm going to have to lay down a few ground rules. And I will get her back. The rest doesn’t matter.
My hand goes to my pocket where the drawing is nestled. If I have to burn St. Petersburg to the ground and take on the Russian army to get her back, I'll do it.