Chapter 11
Kirill
“Uhh… do you have to make so much noise this early in the morning?” Kostya groans, his heavy head in his hands, nursing what has to be a brutal hangover.
“Can’t handle the fallout from your own choices? Then maybe don’t make them,” I scold lightheartedly, while pouring a stream of black coffee into a mug before sliding it in front of my reckless brother.
“Thanks,” he mumbles, his voice rough and gravelly. “Again, sorry about last night. I guess I got a little carried away.”
“No shit,” I smirk, drinking my own coffee while leaning against the kitchen counter.
“Just give me an hour or so and I’ll be good as new. What’s on the books for today?”
Stella. Her name hits my mind instantly.
“I have to pop into the club to oversee the construction. Then I’ve got to run a few errands.”
“On a Saturday? What errands could you possibly have today? Don’t you have someone to do that shit for you? Or are you sick of me already that you’d rather spend the day picking up your dry cleaning?” he jokes, and then immediately regrets it as he grabs his head as if it were splitting in half.
“Though you are a pain in my ass, that’s not why I have to leave. Just hang out here and let the grown-ups do their thing.”
“I’m a grown-up, too, asshole. Just let me grab a shower, and I’ll go with you.”
“No.”
“No?” He lifts a curious brow.
“Just stay the fuck here, okay? Nurse that hangover while I do what needs to be done.”
“What are you up to?” Kostya asks, his curiosity naturally piqued since I’m acting shady as fuck.
“I already told you,” I grumble, dumping the rest of my coffee in the sink. “I’ve got business to attend to.”
“Bullshit.” He narrows his eyes at me. “I knew something was off with you since you picked me up at the airport yesterday. I couldn’t put my finger on it then, but there’s something there. Spill it. What’s going on with you?”
“Nothing is going on with me,” I lie.
Kostya just leans back, arms crossed over his chest, looking at me like he doesn’t believe a single word coming out of my mouth. And why would he? I’m obviously lying.
Pizdets.
“Fine. If you must know… I found a lead on Kira.”
“The fuck?” His eyes practically launch out of his skull. “And when did this happen? Why the fuck did no one tell me?!”
“I’m telling you now.”
Kostya’s jaw ticks, pissed he was left out of something this big.
But what he fails to remember is that he’s been dealing with his own shitstorm of a situation.
Misha was very clear in his orders to keep Kostya in the dark about Katya’s daughter, for the time being, since our little brother isn’t exactly known for keeping his cool.
If he’d known about Kira—how close we were to finally finding her—Kostya would’ve caught the first plane out of San Francisco, feds tailing him and all.
And that wouldn’t work. That would’ve led the feds straight to my doorstep.
No. Misha was right to keep this from Kostya as long as he could. At least this way, it would guarantee that Kostya would be kept out of trouble. Something my kid brother obviously has a big fucking problem with.
“Why am I always the last one to know about what’s happening in this family? After all the sacrifices I’ve made, I’m as much entitled to know as any of you are.”
I chuckle at his statement. What fucking sacrifices?
Compared to the shit Misha, Sasha, and I have dealt with, Kostya’s had it easy.
But the resentment from the little he had to give up is starting to show, and the last thing I need is him pulling a full Kostya on me.
So I sit down beside him at the kitchen table and tell him everything I know.
Of course, I leave a few details out. Kostya doesn’t need to know every detail of my plan to get Kira back to us.
And that means leaving out everything that has transpired between me and Stella.
Like hell I’ll tell him I took her to the lake by my place outside the city, the only spot in all of Chicago that always gives me a taste of home.
He doesn’t need to know I’m practically rebuilding my whole damn strip club just because she made me feel like a shitty underboss.
And he sure as hell doesn’t need to know that ever since Stella walked into my life, I’ve been out of sorts, wrestling with feelings I have no business having.
“That’s it? That’s all you know?” he asks, disappointed.
“Like I said, I’m working an angle. I’ll find Kira soon enough.”
“Angle. Right.” He scoffs.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I don’t know. But something tells me you’re keeping more shit from me. And I don’t like it.”
“You’re being paranoid. I’m not keeping anything from you. I told you all I know.”
“Then why do I feel like you’re lying to me?”
Blyad. If Kostya can read my inner turmoil this well, then I really am royally fucked.
“It’s your mind playing tricks on you,” I lie, before flicking his temple. “It would’ve worked better if you weren’t so hungover.”
“Stop gaslighting me, Kill. I don’t need to be sober to know when one of my brothers is hiding shit. And you’re definitely only telling me half the story.”
I grind my teeth, done with this bullshit. “You know what? Think whatever you want. I’ve got real work to do.”
“And I’m coming with you,” he says, standing up, then hissing in pain when the world tilts on him.
“What good are to me in your pathetic condition? Just go to bed and sleep your hangover off.”
“Fuck you. I’m as much a part of this family as anyone,” he fires back, voice rising. “I deserve to know what’s going on. Which means I’m going with you, whether you like it or not.”
“I already told you,” I say, losing my patience. “You’re staying here, and that’s the end of it.”
“See?” He points at me with a scowl. “Why are you getting so fucking defensive? Oh, I know why? Because you’re full of shit!” he adds, pissed. “If you’re going out to find Kira, then I’m coming with you. She’s my niece, too, asshole!”
Kostya struts over to the living room, forcing me to follow his ass. When I see him grabbing his coat, my hackles rise. If I don’t stop this now, this is going to turn into polneyshiy pizdets real fast.
“Konstantin, stop!” I order, my voice hard with authority.
“Fuck you!” he says, picking up my car keys from the console table.
“I’m serious. Don’t you dare leave.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“No!”
“Kostya!” I grit my teeth, having lost all my patience with him.
“Fine!” he raises his arms in the air. “You want me to stay? Then tell me where you’re going. Where you’re really going. And don’t dare lie to me. I’ll know if you are.”
“I’m going to see her, okay?” I blurt before I can stop myself.
“Her?” His brows furrow. “Kira?”
“No.” I shake my head, pinching the bridge of my nose. “Stella,” I finally admit.
“Romano’s daughter? Why?”
“Because…” I drag my hand over my face. “She’s… my angle. She’s how we’ll find Kira.”
Kostya’s black eyes drill into mine for a long moment, studying me, then widen with some sort of epiphany that coaxes him into sudden laughter.
“Holy shit!” he cackles, dropping my car keys back on the entryway table and eating the distance between us. “Now I see it! You fucking like her!”
“What?”
“Shit! There it is! How did I not see it before? You’re down bad for this chick!”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I grumble, pulling at my collar, rushing back into the kitchen, and away from my incessantly annoying brother. Still, the fucker just follows me, intent on pushing my buttons further.
“Ohhhh,” he wheezes, laughing again, pounding his palms on the table as if about to pass out from hysteria. “You really like her. Sasha is going to freak the fuck out when he hears about this.”
I plant my hands on the table and lean in until my face is inches from his. “Sasha won’t know shit, because there is nothing to know.”
“Tell your face that!” Kostya shoots back, still laughing.
“You’ve fucking done it now. I can’t believe you’ve got the hots for Romano’s daughter.
The Vincent Romano! This is hysterical, even if a bit tragic.
” He laughs, wiping the tears from his eyes.
“Ah, it feels good not to be the only fuckup in this family for once.” My nostrils flare, but Kostya doesn’t look even slightly intimidated.
“Oh, stop growling at me,” he snorts, “It’s not like I’m running to tell our brothers your secret.
I’m cool. I’ll be cool. I won’t tell a soul. Promise.”
“There’s nothing to tell,” I seethe, but Kostya apparently isn’t buying it.
“Sure, there’s not.” He winks. “Go on and see your girlfriend. I’m due for a long nap anyway.” And with that, he waves me off and marches back to his room with a smug little skip in his step.
Last night, I told myself I’d wait until Monday to see Stella. But apparently, waiting for Monday to arrive was just too long a wait.
After a quick background check, it wasn’t hard to find out where Stella’s younger siblings attended school. Hence why I’m sitting in the parking lot of Sacred Heart—a ridiculously upscale private school for Chicago’s elite.
However, as I look around the lot again, I don’t see Stella’s red sports car anywhere. Did she lie to me? Feed me some bullshit excuse about a ‘family obligation’ just to get me off her back? It would make sense. Christmas is ten days away, so the school should’ve had its decorations up weeks ago.
She mentioned something about a dance that happens during winter break, so maybe that’s why they’re doing everything so late. She also said something about having brunch with her brothers and sister before coming here, so perhaps that’s why she hasn’t shown up yet.
Still, as the minutes crawl by with no sign of her car or any Romano vehicle, realization hits me hard. Stella spoon-fed me a bunch of lies yet again, and I swallowed them whole like a starving man taking whatever scrap he could get. Blyad.