Chapter 4 #2
“Don’t get your panties in a twist. Damn. Can’t a guy tease his twin anymore? Geez.”
My gaze bounces from Lucky and Enzo and the silent conversation between them. Usually, I’d be more intrigued by whoever my brothers let into their lives, but not today. I’m still too preoccupied trying to solve Lucky’s mystery to even start figuring out Enzo’s.
“Did you guys ever get more information about Frankie’s bracelet?” I interrupt, Lucky’s face falling instantly.
“No. So far we’ve got diddly squat.”
“We’ll find something soon,” Enzo promises, no longer mad at Lucky, giving his shoulder a little squeeze. “If her parents are out there, they’re bound to leave some kind of trace. I’ll find it, brother.”
“It’s not so much for me,” Lucky says, shoulders slumping. “It would mean the world to my girl if she knew where she came from. There’s this empty space in her heart I can’t fill… and I fucking hate seeing it there.”
“You really are in love, aren’t you?” Annamaria asks, all bright eyes and warmth.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Stop looking at me like that.” Lucky groans, his cheeks gaining color.
“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about, Lucky. Love is a beautiful thing. I’m so glad you found it in someone as wonderful as Frankie,” our sister adds assuredly, with an ear-to-ear smile.
“She is pretty wonderful, isn’t she?” His eyes light up.
“She’s the best,” Anna retorts with conviction.
“She sure fucking is. I totally lucked out.” Lucky beams, squaring his shoulders and lifting his chin, pride and love radiating off him.
“Okay, enough with the sentimental bullshit,” I interject, before I gag with all this lovey-dovey nonsense. “Just make sure you wrap it up. I’m not eager to be an aunt anytime soon.”
“Stella!” Annamaria squeals in outrage, her cheeks flushing bright red.
“Oh, don’t ‘Stella’ me, Anna. We both know these two might be the brains of the house, but when they start thinking with their dicks, their IQ plummets.”
“She’s not wrong,” Enzo mutters with a shrug.
“I… um… I’m going to grab my school bag,” Annamaria stammers, jumping up from her seat, clearly uncomfortable with the topic of discussion.
“Subtlety really isn’t your strong suit, is it, sis?” Lucky grins.
“Oh, bite me, Luciano.” I roll my eyes.
I’m serious, though. Frankie’s a wonderful girl, but my brother is so obsessed that I wouldn’t put it past him to knock her up just to make sure she’s always tied to him.
Good thing Frankie came to me a few weeks back, asking me to take her to an OB-GYN to get birth control.
She might be in love with the idiot, but she’s in no rush to start popping out babies either.
Good on her.
Personally, I’ve never seen the merit in having children.
So much so that when I was old enough to get an IUD, I did.
Maybe it’s because I grew up in a house full of siblings always bickering and fighting with one another.
Or maybe it’s because, in this life, a woman’s choices are already limited.
Add babies into the equation, and she runs out of them fast.
Once Annamaria returns with her bag, Lucky and Enzo shoot up from their seats, setting their empty dishes in the sink before heading out to school.
I stay behind at the now-empty table, lost in thought, weighing the pros and cons of going to Little Russia again.
But who am I kidding? I’ve already made up my mind.
“You’re still here,” I hear Dom’s voice call out, alerting me to his presence.
“Not for long,” I say, offering him a little smile as I stand and place my plate and mug in the sink.
Before I pass him, I rise onto my toes and press a quick kiss to his cheek.
“Sorry, I spaced out this morning. Promise I’ll do better tomorrow.”
“I hope so,” he says evenly. “Whatever’s messing with your focus, deal with it. Don’t let it sit and fester. That’s how problems start running your life instead of you.”
I give him another faint smile, grab my things, and head out, hoping he’s right and that I’m not making a bigger mistake by going to see Kirill again.
Once I’m in my car, it takes me a split second before I turn the ignition.
I get what my dad was saying about letting things fester. But that’s not the case here. If anyone finds out I’ve gone to Little Russia—not once, not twice, but three times—it’ll be my ass. Dom might be lenient with me, but my father, the Capo dei Capi himself, would not.
Still, it’s Lucky’s goofy face from breakfast that keeps coming to mind. The idiot fell hard for a girl who doesn’t even know where she comes from. If Kirill has any insight on that, then both Lucky and, especially, Frankie need to know.
That’s the thing about having too many siblings. Someone’s always getting into something, and the rest of us have to swoop in and fix it.
And in my case, that means making sure nothing gets in the way of my brother’s stupid happiness.
An hour later, I’m parked outside the last place I should be. I should be heading to class right about now, not staring at the neon-lit silhouette of a naked woman.
But here I am. Coming to my brother’s rescue by finding out why his girlfriend’s choice in jewelry seems to touch a nerve with the Bratva underboss of all people.
Lucky, you’re going to owe me big time for this.
As expected at this early hour, the strip club isn’t open for business.
I hate places like this. They’re fucking demeaning and exploitative. Still, sex sells, and as long as there’s demand, there will always be supply.
I’d say that makes all men nothing but misogynistic pigs, but having been here before, I know most of the ones who frequent this club aren’t necessarily here for the show.
This is Bratva territory, after all, so it’s no surprise the club doubles as both a playground and a waiting room where Kirill’s men line up for their cut or their orders.
Knowing my last name alone makes me persona non grata in a place like this, I hold my head high and waltz toward the entrance as if I have every right to be here. Thankfully, no one’s around to stop me today, but even if there were, I’d handle them the same way I handled the last bouncer who tried.
Inside, the club looks different without the flashing lights and music.
The air still smells faintly of stale liquor and cheap perfume, and the bass that usually shakes the floor has been replaced by the low hum of the cleaning crew’s vacuum.
A couple of cleaners move quietly through the haze, collecting bottles and wiping down tables while a few of Kirill’s men linger in the back, either murmuring into their phones or eyeballing me.
I can tell my presence here has left a bad taste in their mouths, but not one of them has the stones to approach me. Something tells me Kirill’s behind that. Not that he’s here to confirm it. Nine a.m. is apparently too early for him to drag his ass out of bed, because he’s nowhere in sight.
With nothing to do but wait for the asshole, I take a seat at a table and lock eyes with a waitress carrying a tray with empty glasses. There’s a hollowness in her eyes, her shoulders drawn tight as she makes her way toward me.
“I, um… would you like anything to drink?” she asks, her voice uncertain, glancing around at the men still watching us like hungry dogs.
“You wouldn’t by any chance serve coffee in this dump, would you?” She nods, still looking like she wants to tell me to get the hell out while I can. “Then I’ll have a coffee.”
“I’d suggest water, miss. Bottled water,” she says quietly, glancing toward the bartender.
“I’m good with coffee. Don’t worry. He’s not man enough to put cyanide in it.” I laugh. However, she doesn’t look convinced. “Just tell him I’m a guest of his boss,” I add, throwing a taunting look at the bartender.
That should guarantee my safety. For now, anyway.
Not that I’m really a guest. I’m sure even he has his suspicions that I’m crashing this place. Still, if he thinks he can earn brownie points with his boss by killing me with a laced coffee, he’s welcome to try.
I keep my eyes fixed on the bartender as he pours coffee into a mug, his scowl alerting me that it will be cyanide-free.
The waitress returns, visibly relieved. I hand her a hundred-dollar bill for her troubles.
“Keep the change.”
She smiles, then hurries off, leaving me to watch as some girls practice for their upcoming performance.
Hey, I’ve got no problem with women using what God gave them to make a buck. What I do have a problem with is when choice is taken away from them. I don’t know if these girls are here of their own volition or if they are being forced.
The Bratva haven’t exactly had the best track record regarding women’s rights. Or their autonomy.
Then again, I remember the last time a Bratva underboss tried to traffic women into Chicago and how my father killed him with the Pakhan’s seal of approval.
Hmm. Okay, so maybe these women weren’t smuggled in, but by the look on their faces, they’re not exactly ecstatic to be here either.
My thoughts are still on the women who work here when I hear a chair scrape across the floor beside me. Kirill swings a leg over it and straddles it backward, his arms draping casually across the chair’s backrest as he settles in, close enough for his dark, intoxicating cologne to invade my space.
“Two visits in one week,” he says smoothly. “I’m flattered.”
“Don’t be.”
“How can I not?” he smirks, resting his chin on his folded arms. “Ever since we met, we haven’t gone more than a few days without seeing each other. It’s enough to make any man start to hope.”
“Hope?” I laugh sarcastically. “What a strange word to use in a place like this.”
“You don’t like my club?” he asks, feigning offense.
“Do you?” I counter, turning to face him and instantly regretting it. His dark hair is slicked back, still damp from a shower, the scent of soap and sin wrapped around him.
He makes a show of looking around before locking eyes with me again.
“What can I say? Everything pales in comparison when you’re in the room.”
Ugh.
He really thinks I’m going to fall for that charm. I’d rather set it on fire.
“Spare me your compliments, Kill. You and I both know this place is a dump.”
“Maybe all it needs is a woman’s touch.”
“What it needs is a wrecking ball.” I scoff.
“Then where would I conduct business?” he smirks.
“Moscow, maybe?” I tease.
“Now, milaya, you know that’s impossible. That’s the Pakhan’s terrain, not mine.”
“Does that mean you’re satisfied with ruling over this little neighborhood? Kind of small, isn’t it?”
“There’s nothing small about it,” he goads, lifting his head and batting those dark lashes at me. “Your family might rule Chicago, but this place—this corner of the city—is ours and far larger than you can possibly imagine.”
“If that’s supposed to impress me, I’m sorry to disappoint. I’m not impressed by so little.”
“That’s because you come from a world of plenty. Not all of us grew up with such riches.”
My brows furrow at that. “You make me sound spoiled.”
“Just a little, milaya.” He grins softly. “But I don’t fault you for it. You had no say in the life that was given to you. Just as I had no choice in the one bestowed upon me.”
My forehead wrinkles at the sincerity in his voice.
I hate that.
Him flirting with me I can deal with. Kirill being real with me? Yeah, that’s a whole other beast.
“I thought a man like you enjoyed all the power he was given.”
“I can still enjoy the benefits of power,” he says evenly, “without enjoying the chains that bind me to it.”
“You really are full of contradictions.”
“As are you, Stella.”
I swallow dryly, his heated gaze flickering over every inch of my face.
When I turn my head away, he rests his chin on his arms again, making no attempt to hide the fact that he’s staring.
“How would you go about improving my little club then?”
“Is that a serious question?”
“I asked it, didn’t I?”
I straighten my spine, squaring my shoulders to look impassive.
“First of all, I’d bleach every inch of this place. It smells like despair.”
“Noted.” He chuckles. “What else?”
“I’d make sure the girls on stage are paid what they’re worth. None of them looks like they want to be here.”
“So do most of my men.”
“And that should tell you something.”
“And what exactly does it tell me?” he asks, amused.
“If none of the people you’re supposed to look after want to be here, then what kind of loyalty can you expect from them when the chips are down?”
He hums thoughtfully. “So, you believe loyalty is bought by the amount of money I pay them?”
“I believe loyalty is earned. Pay your people fairly. Give them decent working conditions. It’s as good a start as any.”
“What about fear?” he asks, voice low. “Do you not believe fear is just as powerful a tool for loyalty?”
“Yes,” I concede. “But only to a point. Fear and intimidation can only get you so far. Trust me, there are things out there far scarier than you.”
“I very much doubt that.”
I turn to face him head-on this time. “Last time I was here, you told me a story about an old woman who feared she couldn’t save her daughter from the people who corrupted her.
Tell me, what did she fear most? The ones who dragged her daughter into that life…
or losing the person she loved for good?
” That gets his attention. “Losing someone you love,” I continue softly, “or not being able to give them the life they deserve… that’s a far greater motivator than fear of the boogeyman ever was. ”
He studies me in silence, taking in every word, before kicking the chair away and standing, towering over me as he does it.
“You really are a dangerous little thing,” he murmurs, voice low like velvet and smoke. “Your looks deceive men into underestimating you, but it’s your sharp and unfiltered mouth that is your true weapon.”
“If that’s supposed to be a compliment, I’ll take it,” I say, rising to my feet as well.
I move to pass him, but he catches my wrist, drawing my hand toward his lips. His mouth lingers on my knuckles, the warmth of his kiss trailing up my arm like a slow burn.
“I look forward to your next visit, milaya.”
I don’t answer. Not only because I shouldn’t have made this visit in the first place, but also because I’m almost certain I’ll make another.
Before taking more than a few steps away from him, I glance back over my shoulder and find Kirill still watching me.
“You never did tell me what happened to the old woman’s bracelet.”
“No, I did not.”
And with a knowing smile tugging at his lips, he turns away, heading back toward his booth, all his secrets still intact. And what I wouldn’t give to know every single one of them.