Velella

43. Take ItLeave It

TAKE IT OR LEAVE IT

Istop at the end of the hallway that bisects the wing that contains my rooms. A maid tries to pass me.

I redirect her to clean elsewhere, suggesting she spread the message among the rest of the staff.

Many of them work on a nocturnal schedule, both for security and so they’re scarce during the day—Igor’s preference.

“I knew there was a woman.”

My head turns left, watching my mother approach. My mother has already heard who I returned with, confirming my longtime suspicion she’s far more aware of what happens in this house than she pretends to be due to her frequent absences.

“Igor wanted her.”

“Lev”—Elena shakes her head, then tsks—“an Italian girl? Really?”

It’s a guess. She can’t possibly know my own motivations at play here. But she suspects, same as Maksim, and I shouldn’t be so terrifyingly transparent. The half of my family who outranks me—Igor and Aleksandr—will be no less derisive and far more vindictive.

I remain silent, propped against the wall like a sentry. I need to fucking think. There has to be a way to smuggle Carina out of here.

Elena exhales. “If she matters … you should take care of it. It’s kinder than what Igor will do. He’d rather have you focused than gain anything from the Italians.”

My jaw works as I watch my mother walk away, back toward her wing of the house.

I’m aware she’s right—that my protecting Carina places a target on her back.

Igor is affable now because he believes I acted for the same reason Maksim had initially assumed—out of a desire to succeed where I’d failed before.

When my father realizes the force behind my resistance to using her for our gain, things will get ugly.

I have a short window to decide how to react once that happens.

I straighten, abruptly impatient. This hallway is the only access to this wing from inside the house, but someone could scale the side of the building.

Someone could have snuck down the hallway while I was downstairs.

The men patrolling the property won’t help, not if the perpetrator is one of them; they will act on Igor’s orders.

His leniency downstairs could have been an act.

He doesn’t know what Carina means to me, but he knows I wouldn’t support harming an innocent woman. I’m not close enough to protect her.

I stride down the hallway and unlock the door, opening it slowly since the hinges sometimes squeak. It’s dark inside, so Carina’s probably asleep.

A shaft of light spills in from the hallway. Enough for me to find and flick on the nearest lamp. It illuminates the gun pointed at my chest. I turn to shut the door rather than close it with my foot so I have a second to hide the pride.

Carina is a fighter. I knew it the second she bit me hard enough to break the skin. Her strength always impresses me, but it also makes me sad. I wish she could stop fighting. I wish this were over.

“I thought you’d be sleeping,” I comment, flipping the lock.

When I turn around again, Carina’s arm has lowered. “I thought you’d be back sooner.”

I scan her over as she sets the gun down. Her loose hair is damp, and all she’s wearing is one of my T-shirts.

I head into the bathroom before I do something dumb, like kiss her. Or find out if she’s wearing anything under it.

Carina follows, leaning a shoulder against the doorway.

She watches as I turn on the shower and begin to unbutton my shirt.

I was farther from the fray than normal since my main priority was her, not obliterating my opponent, so there’s no blood soaking the fabric.

But it’s a ritual when I return from a job, and it gives me something to do.

She doesn’t look away when the scars on my torso are revealed. She’s seen them all before, but she studies them like they’re brand-new as my shirt drops to the floor.

“One of Nico’s men got on the shuttle I was taking to the airport. He said he’d kill everyone on board unless I went with him. They flew me back to Italy. Brought me to my father.”

“They didn’t find the papers?”

“No. I left the backpack behind. I didn’t mention your name to Nico, only to my father. I told him that you’d taken me for blackmail. He didn’t seem to want Nico to know about the flash drive. He barely asked him anything. I-I tried to use that.”

I nod. Carina is intelligent—much smarter than her family gives her credit for. Their mistake—again.

“I was right; that’s all they cared about. Well, mostly. They were angry I had run. So was Nico.” She touches her cheek.

I force my fists to unclench so I can unbuckle my belt. Nico Morello will pay for that.

“I told them you had it and that you’d come to finish the job if they made sure all their men knew they were moving me out of Italy. They believed me, or maybe they were just desperate to get the drive back. W-what was on it?”

“I don’t know. It’s encrypted.”

“What, uh …” She fiddles with the hem of my shirt, offering a tantalizing glimpse of thigh before the fabric falls and she meets my gaze again. “What happened downstairs?”

I step under the spray so I can avoid answering for a few more seconds. And to hide that I’m getting hard.

Something else occurs to me. “You told them we had an informant?” That’s the only way she could have ensured I found out about Madrid.

Carina nods, expression pained. “I’m so sorry. It was the only way they’d believe me. Can you—will you warn him?”

“It’s safer not to contact him if they’re on alert. He knew the risks.” I turn my head, letting the warm spray hit my face and drip down my chest. It does little to relax my tensed muscles.

If we did kill Salvatore’s son, in addition to kidnapping the daughter he’d promised to Morello, they’ll hit us back. And they’ll strike more than a warehouse.

When I turn back around, Carina is hoisting herself up onto the black counter beside the sink.

My T-shirt drifts higher up her thighs again.

She’s not being purposefully seductive, and that makes it sexier.

So does the fact that I’ve stroked myself to thoughts of her in this shower more often than I’d ever admit.

She’s silent as she rests her head back against the mirror, although she’s surely noticed I haven’t explained what happened downstairs. Patiently waiting for me to figure out a solution.

She has so much fucking faith in me. So does Igor. And only one of them can be right about my loyalties.

I turn my head into the water again, feeling it run down my face and letting it muffle my hearing. When I emerge from the spray, she’s still sitting there, watching me.

“Did you need something?” I drawl.

She shakes her head, a hint of a smile appearing. “Just enjoying the view.” Her low voice is barely audible over the sound of falling water hitting tiles.

I catch myself before I smile back, but only barely. I should be strategizing a way to smuggle her out of the country. Instead, I have to turn the dial to cold, which doesn’t do much to cool the heat pooling in my groin.

“If she matters … you should take care of it.”

The echo of Elena’s earnest sentence kills my erection immediately.

Once all the suds have disappeared down the drain, I shut the water off and step out. My towel is already damp when I reach for it.

“I forgot to ask where the extra linens were before you left to decide my fate with your father,” Carina tells me.

I roll my eyes as I run the towel over my hair, then wrap it around my waist to catch the droplets trickling down my chest.

“How did that go, by the way?” Her flippant tone doesn’t match the lines of anxiety etched on her forehead.

I exhale. “As well as it could have.”

“What does that mean, Lev?”

“It means tonight was unexpected. He wants to meet with you in the morning.”

“What am I supposed to say?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?” she echoes. “Won’t that … annoy him?”

It sure would. If the stakes were any lower, it’d be entertaining.

“That meeting won’t happen,” I tell her. “I just need to get you to Moscow. I have plenty of resources there, men my father doesn’t control. They’ll get you out of the country.”

“To go where?”

“Wherever you want.”

Carina sighs heavily. “I don’t want to keep running, Lev.

To look over my shoulder for the rest of my life.

I’m not trying to be difficult or ungrateful, but it feels like I’ve spent my whole life hiding.

In Chicago, I was worried someone would find out who I was and use me against my father, and now I’m terrified of my father finding me.

I can’t give up and go back there, but I don’t …

the only time I feel safe is when I’m with you.

” She whispers that last sentence, like she’s not sure she should say it.

“I am not a good person, Carina.”

She’s seen more than I ever meant for her to, more than enough to conclude that for herself, but it still feels necessary to state. She’s safest far away from me.

“Neither am I.” I open my mouth to argue, but she continues before I can, “I’ve stolen, I’ve lied, I’ve killed. The only reason I haven’t cheated is because I broke up with guys before you visited.”

If she didn’t look so serious, I’d scoff at her list of sins.

“That is nothing compared to—”

“You told me to marry Nico Morello,” Carina interrupts. “Is that who I should feel safe with? Is that a good person?”

My nostrils flare. I plan to personally ensure Morello never gets within a mile of Carina again.

But keeping her close to me means keeping her close to my family—within my father’s reach.

Even if I decided to abandon them, all my running with Carina would accomplish is sending a second manhunt after us.

Loyalty is prized above all else. Abandoning my blood …

I’d lose any respect. I wouldn’t be able to trust anyone because they’d all believe they couldn’t trust me.

Carina is staring, waiting for my answer to her ridiculous questions.

I didn’t mean the words when they were coming out of my mouth.

I just wanted her taken care of. And she would have been after marrying Morello.

We don’t have much of a moral code, but we avoid involving women at all costs. Wives are especially off-limits.

“We would have to get married,” I state, hoping the bold statement might shock some reason into her.

It’s the most protection I can offer, and I’m still not sure it would be enough.

I’m supposed to ask my pakhan for permission before getting engaged.

Igor personally chose Victoria from a group of women who were all wealthy and refined and, most importantly, Russian.

Victoria is treated like a second-class Sokolov anyway.

I can’t even comprehend how wary they’d be of Carina.

How furious and disappointed. But I don’t think Igor would sanction murdering my wife.

Not if others were aware of the marriage.

It would spook everyone who expected our protection.

Carina’s staring at me, clearly stunned. “I-I can’t ask you to do that,” she finally says.

“You did not ask me to do anything,” I tell her, irritated by the implication.

Everyone aside from Carina accepts I don’t follow orders from anyone except my father. He hasn’t forbidden me from doing this—because it would never cross his mind that I might. And even if he did, it wouldn’t make a difference.

“I still can’t—”

I shake my head impatiently. “We will leave for Moscow early. I’ll take you somewhere safe, or we’ll get married. If we don’t go then, we won’t be able to. And if you stay here, you’ll end up back in Italy or dead.”

What I don’t add is, that outcome might kill me too.

I won’t be able to watch a carpet get replaced because the old one was stained with Carina’s blood.

Or know she’s being sent to a man who will abuse her.

I’ll do something rash and stupid, like point a gun at Igor, to prevent either from happening, and that’s a guaranteed death sentence for her.

Maybe for me too. Igor killed his brother. Is a son so different?

“Get some sleep,” I say, heading for the doorway.

Again, she follows me, watching me drop the towel and pull on clean clothes.

“Where are you going?”

“To figure out how to get to Moscow. I’ll be back in a few hours to get you. Lock the door after me.”