Chapter 21
Kirill
For the past couple of weeks, my life has felt like someone turned the brightness all the way up. I’ve been living on cloud nine, each day better than the last, the kind where mornings feel lighter and even ordinary things seem to shine.
And that’s all because of Stella.
Whenever she can, my woman sneaks to my lake house after school so we can have some time together, sometimes even using the excuse of needing to study just to stay the night.
Sure, more often than not she can only stay for a few hours, but it’s enough… It’s more than enough. It’s fucking everything.
One day, I hope she’ll make her permanent home there. But until then, these small steps… these little stolen nights… They’re what I treasure most.
Right now, my mind has to stay clear and focused on what’s in front of me, because whatever happens today could make or break everything between Stella and me.
She thinks we can’t be together.
That our worlds are too far apart.
That a Bratva prince could never have a life with an Outfit principessa.
Today, I’ll prove her wrong.
The plan I put in motion to gain better roots in Chicago is almost complete, there’s just one more thing I need to do.
“Wait here in the car for me,” I tell Kostya once we reach our destination.
“But I want to go in too. Fuck, I worked for this as much as you have.”
“I know. And you did an amazing job.” I ruffle his hair teasingly, only for him to slap my hand away.
“Don’t fucking patronize me,” he grumbles.
“I’m not. It’s just… this last part, I have to do on my own. There’s more on the line than the deal. There’s—”
“Stella,” he says instantly, going right to the root of it.
“Yes. Stella. I need to make sure I don’t piss her father off. I need to fortify this alliance. It’s the only way our relationship will work.”
“It’s a good plan, Kill. He’ll see the merit of it, I’m sure. He’s a businessman, after all.”
“He’s also a boss,” I remind him. “If he sniffs out even a hint of my ulterior motive, all this work we’ve put in…all this time…will go down the drain. And then it’s our boss who will be pissed at me.”
“I doubt that. Misha’s beyond proud of you. He’ll know it’s Romano’s loss if he doesn’t agree to our deal.”
“I hope you’re right.”
Kostya goes quiet, worry creeping into his expression.
“Have you told Stella yet? About your… upcoming nuptials?”
A deep scowl cuts across my face the second the words leave his mouth.
“I didn’t tell her because there’s nothing to tell. I might be loyal to our Pakhan, but he can’t force me to do something I don’t want to do.”
“Yes, he can,” Kostya says, and something about the certainty in his voice chills my spine.
“No, Kostya, he can’t. I’ve worked too damn hard to set things in motion so I can keep Stella. I won’t give her up just to marry someone I don’t know, let alone love.”
“Love,” he echoes, smirking. “Who would’ve thought my big brother would fall in love?”
But I’m too wound up from the reminder of my arranged marriage to find humor in anything.
“One problem at a time, brother,” Kostya says, squeezing my shoulder, sensing that his previous question hit a nerve. “Go and woo Romano like you planned. We’ll deal with Misha later.”
I give him a curt nod and step out of the car, walking toward the skyscraper that houses Romano Enterprises.
Inside, I take the elevator to the top floor and approach the receptionist at the counter.
“I’m here to see Vincent Romano. I have a meeting booked with him at eleven.”
“Name, please?” she asks without looking up.
“Kirill Petrov.”
“Ah, yes. Mr. Petrov.” She smiles politely. “Please take a seat. Mr. Romano’s secretary will be with you shortly.”
I sit in the lobby, aware of the curious stares from the other worker bees, but I brush them off and take in the vast, elegant space around me.
I built a strip club to disguise my criminal behavior.
Vincent Romano built an entire legitimate empire to hide his.
The difference is staggering.
Instead of a secretary, it’s Romano’s consigliere that comes to greet me. Giovanni DeLuca struts toward me, looking like he just heard something funny.
“I have to say, when you set up this meeting, I wasn’t sure it wasn’t a joke.”
“No joke. Just a business venture your Capo might be interested in.”
“Let’s see then, shall we? Follow me,” he says, leading me toward one of the corner offices.
When we step inside Vincent’s office, the man is on the phone, talking to someone in his clipped, businesslike tone.
My gaze flicks up to the other man in the room, Romano’s head enforcer, Dominic, standing to his left like a damn guard dog.
And when he returns my stare, that’s when I see it, the subtle twitch in his cheek.
The same tell Stella makes when she sees someone she doesn’t like.
As I study him further, the striking and uncanny resemblances begin to show.
Hmm.
Could it actually be true?
Could the Red Queen share her bed, not only with her husband, but with his consigliere and his enforcer too?
Could all those rumors about her actually contain a kernel of truth?
A quick glance over at Giovanni, and suddenly I see a lot of Lucky’s features in him too. Lord knows I’ve spent enough time around him at Kira’s apartment to memorize his mannerisms and ticks by now.
But when my gaze lands on the Capo Dei Capi himself, the resemblance to his successor, Marcello, is immediate. The dead cold glare in their eyes gives them both away.
I try to reel in this unexpected realization the second Vincent hangs up his phone and directs his attention solely on me.
“Please, have a seat. I’m sure you’ve met Giovanni and Dominic before.”
I greet the two men with a polite nod and do as the Capo says and sit down in front of him, knowing damn well I’m on his turf and need to act accordingly.
“I must say, my curiosity is piqued about this meeting,” Vincent begins. “Especially since our two families suffered a bit of a fracture the last time we had to deal with yours.”
“My apologies for my hand in that,” I say evenly. “It was never my intention to harm either of your children.”
“Was it only your intention to kidnap them?” he asks, one brow arched.
“They were treated with the utmost respect in my home,” I counter. “I’m sure they can back me up on that.”
Vincent leans back in his chair, clasping his hands together in front of him. “My Stella tells me that because of you, I still have a daughter. That it was your quick thinking that saved her life.”
I can’t help but smile at that.
“But my son tells me her life wouldn’t have been in danger at all if your men hadn’t shot her in the first place.”
My jaw tightens.
Leave it to Lucky to break my balls even when he’s not in the room. If I didn’t love my niece so much, I’d have a word or two with the kid. And by word, I mean punch.
“Petrov also killed the man who hurt Stella,” Dominic adds from beside his boss, unexpectedly coming to my defense.
“I would have expected nothing less from him,” Vincent says, still studying me carefully. “Though it was my own son who dealt with the other man, the one you left to walk away from the kidnapping without a scratch.”
“Which son are we talking about? Do you mean Lucky, who shot my soldat,” I ask, feigning ignorance, “or Marcello, who all but flayed Lev alive?”
Vincent’s lips dip into a scowl, and I mentally kick myself.
Blyad.
This is not why I’m here. Ego needs to take a back seat to ensure this deal goes according to plan, which means pissing Vincent off by reminding him of his unhinged son is not on the menu today.
No. I need to backpaddle if I’m going to get what I want out of this meeting.
My plan has to go through. It just fucking has to.
Sure, Misha might think the plan was for us to expand our influence and grow roots in Chicago, while also strengthening our alliance with the Outfit, but there was always a hidden agenda I kept close to the vest and refused to tell my brother about.
If the Outfit and the Bratva can work harmoniously together, side by side, then a union between Stella and me wouldn’t be that far-fetched.
Our love wouldn’t be questioned or viewed as a problem.
It would no longer be seen as a betrayal.
Vincent would accept me as one of his own, and Misha would finally abandon this ridiculous idea of marrying me off to some stranger out West.
“Apologies, Vincent,” I say in earnest. “I didn’t mean to speak out of turn. That’s not why I’m here.”
“And why are you here, exactly?”
“A business proposition.”
I rise from my chair and lay out the blueprints and paperwork I’ve spent the last few months working on tirelessly.
Vincent’s brows knit. “What is this?”
“This,” I say, tapping the documents, “is how we repair the fracture I caused between our families… and unite as a more formidable force.”
Vincent’s eyes skim the papers at a rapid pace, Giovanni leaning in behind him and reading just as efficiently. The only one not moving is Dominic since his piercing blue eyes remain fixed on me the entire time.
“This is impressive,” Vincent finally says. “How did you manage such a feat?”
“Honestly? You inspired me.”
“Me?” he asks, clearly surprised.
I nod. “I realized that if the Bratva were ever going to grow in this city, we needed strong partnerships. And that meant mingling and getting to know all the right people. Influential people on the Illinois Gaming Board Commissioners, for instance. People who don’t mind turning a blind eye as long as they get paid for their trouble.
And as it just so happens, I’ve made quite a few new friends since the last time we saw each other. ”
“So I see,” Vincent muses, eyes lingering on the deed for the only riverboat casino the state of Illinois allows anyone to have.
“And tell me…what of its previous owners, the Sinclair family? How did they respond to your generous offer to buy their casino right out from under them?”
“Some were more eager to sell than others.”