Chapter 4
KATERINA
The leather seat feels cold against my back as I stare out the window, watching the church fade into the distance.
Pyotr sits beside me, rigid and tense.
I can still feel Luca’s effect on me. For an instant, it was like I was twenty again, hopelessly in love and believing in happily ever after.
Thankfully, reality quickly swooped in. I can’t afford to get caught up in him again.
"You okay?" Pyotr's voice breaks through my thoughts.
"Fine."
"He had no right approaching you like that."
I turn to face my brother. "I don't need your protection from Luca Dante."
"Don't you?" His eyebrow arches. "You looked shaken."
Of course I'm shaken. How could I not be? Those gray eyes still cut straight through me. It would be easier if I felt nothing. If seven years had killed my love instead of burying it beneath hurt and anger.
"He's not back for me," I say, more to myself than Pyotr. "He's not even really back for his father."
"Then why is he here?"
I shake my head. "Someone summoned him. That's what he said."
The city blurs past my window. The day is gray. How fitting for today. What sort of summons could possibly lure Luca home? Why did he bother heeding it?
What would I have given, once, to see Luca walk through those doors again?
To hear him say my name like I was something precious?
Everything. I would have given everything.
But that was before Enzo.
Before I understood what real love meant.
The kind that doesn't abandon you without explanation.
"He'll be gone soon enough." The foolish, romantic part of me I thought long dead aches at the thought of his leaving again. But the mother in me knows it's for the best.
Luca Dante is a hurricane. He destroys everything in his path, even when he doesn't mean to. And I've spent seven years building something too precious to risk in his storm.
Luca may have my past, but Enzo is my future. And no matter what my traitorous heart might yearn for, I won't let Luca Dante near my son.
"Really, Kat," Pyotr presses, his gaze too perceptive. "How does it feel seeing him again after all this time?"
I shrug, forcing my expression into careful neutrality. "It doesn't feel like anything. He's just another Dante now."
My brother studies me before turning away, unconvinced but unwilling to push further. Good. I don’t want to talk about Luca Dante.
I close my eyes, wanting to gain control of my emotions and my thoughts.
But it’s no use.
Behind my closed eyes, I feel the memory of Luca's hands on my skin, the heat of his breath against my neck.
The way he used to look at me like I was the only woman in the world.
Like I was made for him alone.
I remember the weight of his body pressing mine into silk sheets.
The low rumble of his voice when he'd whisper promises against my ear.
The safety I felt wrapped in his arms, even knowing what he was.
What a fool I was. What a pathetic, lovesick fool.
And still, my body betrays me.
Still, I feel the phantom trail of his fingertips along my spine, the ghost of his lips on mine.
The memory of him inside me, filling every empty space, making me whole.
"He'll be gone soon," I say aloud, though I'm not sure if I'm reassuring Pyotr or myself.
My brother nods, but his expression has shifted to something more calculating. "And if he's not? If Alessandro lets him stay?"
The question sends a fresh wave of panic through me. I hadn't considered that possibility.
Luca, back in New York permanently.
Luca, a constant presence at family gatherings. Luca, close enough to discover—
No. I shut down that thought before it can fully form.
"Then I'll deal with it. It's been seven years, Pyotr. Whatever we had died a long time ago."
Another lie. I can see now that what we had never died.
It’s just been hidden away where it couldn't hurt me anymore.
Where it couldn't betray the secret I've guarded with my life.
The car is silent now as we head back to the Dante mansion.
With Luca home, I need to mentally prepare myself for the gathering this afternoon to honor Don Lorenzo Dante.
Pyotr clears his throat, leaning forward suddenly. "Stop here," he instructs the driver.
My head whips toward him. "What are you doing?"
"I need to make a stop. An errand."
"Now? Everyone's heading back to the estate. There's the gathering—"
"I know about the gathering, Kat." He reaches for the door handle as the car eases to the curb.
I look where we are.
We’re riding through Great Neck, but there’s nothing Pyotr would need to do here. Unless…
Worry shoots through me.
Pyotr's been acting strange for weeks now.
Disappearing without explanation, taking calls in hushed tones, falling silent whenever I enter a room.
It reminds me of when he had his drug problem.
Is he using again?
"Alessandro will notice if you're not there." I grab his sleeve. "All the capos will be present. After Don Lorenzo's death, we need to show unity, strength."
His eyes meet mine, and for a moment, I see something like conflict flash across his features.
"This can't wait," he says, but there's hesitation in his voice.
"Pyotr, please." My grip tightens. "Whatever it is, it can wait. Don't do this now."
The unspoken message hangs between us—don't make yourself suspicious. Don't give Alessandro reason to doubt your loyalty.
"The Dantes need to see that we stand with them," I press. "Both of us. Especially now with Luca back and everything unsettled."
My brother stares at me for a long moment, then he gently removes my hand from his sleeve. "It won't take long." His voice softens, the familiar tone he uses when he wants me to stop worrying. "I made a promise to Don Lorenzo before his death. This is the last thing I can do for him."
But something in his words doesn't sit right. I've known my brother my entire life. I know when he's hiding something.
"What promise?" I lean forward, studying his face. "You never mentioned this before."
"Not everything is your business." His tone hardens, then immediately softens again. "I'm sorry. It's just… private. Between me and the Don."
The car idles at the curb, our driver's eyes carefully fixed forward, pretending not to listen to our exchange.
"You'll be back for the gathering?" I press.
"Of course." He squeezes my hand. "I wouldn't miss it. The Petrovs need to present a united front, as you said."
I nod, though unease pools in my stomach. "Go on, then. I'll see you back at the estate."
Pyotr gives my hand a final pat and then he's gone, the car door closing as he steps onto the sidewalk.
Through the window, I watch him walk away, his head down as he’s doing something on his phone.
The driver steers us back into traffic, but I crane my neck, keeping Pyotr in sight as long as possible.
I can’t stop the concern that this has nothing to do with Don Lorenzo and everything to do with Pyotr using again.
I’ll never forget the day I found him unconscious in his bathroom, the needle still hanging from his arm.
The frantic rush to the hospital.
The promises he made afterward, swearing he'd never touch that poison again.
Don Lorenzo had been furious.
Not at the drugs themselves, but at the weakness they represented. At how easily Pyotr had been compromised.
"He'll never touch that shit again," Don Lorenzo had promised me, his voice like gravel. "Or he'll be gone.”
And Pyotr had stayed clean. But now, the mood swings have returned. The secretive phone calls. The disappearances.
I press my forehead against the cool glass of the window as I have to consider that Pyotr is off to meet a dealer.
God, there’s no worse time for him to relapse.
If Alessandro catches even a whiff of this…
If any of the Dantes suspect Pyotr might be compromised again…
Anger fills me that Pyotr would succumb to his urges again.
I’m not the only one Enzo relies on for safety.
He needs his uncle to stay clean, to stay safe, to stay alive.
By the time we approach the wrought iron gates of the Dante estate, my resolve has hardened.
Pyotr isn't just my brother.
He's my only remaining family besides Enzo. My parents are long buried. We might have been Bratva born, but we’ve been with the Dantes so long, I don’t feel connected to my Russian origins. Pyotr is all I have, and I can't lose him, too. I won't.
I'll keep my eyes on him, I decide. Watch for the signs I ignored before, the pinpoint pupils, the restless energy, the sudden flashes of paranoia. If he's using again, I'll catch it. I'll stop it. Before Alessandro notices, before anyone can use it as leverage against us.
The car slows as we drive through the gates and up the long drive to the house.
I straighten my shoulders, adjust my black dress. I prepare for my role.
Grieving the loss of Don Lorenzo. Steady and controlled ambassador between the Dantes and the Morozova Bratva.
I think of Enzo and wonder if I can keep him from this gathering that I promised he could attend.
My hands curl into fists as a greater fear than Pyotr using again fills me.
His whole life, I've kept Enzo safe, kept him hidden in plain sight.
Six years of carefully constructed stories about a father who left before he was born, who didn't matter, who wasn't worth remembering. All of that could blow up today.
What would Luca do if he knew? Would he even care? Or would he simply look at Enzo with those cold gray eyes and feel nothing, the same way he must have felt nothing when he left me without a word, without a goodbye?
The car stops before the main house. I draw in a deep breath, center myself.
Today is about getting through this gathering, keeping an eye on Pyotr, and making sure Luca Dante stays far away from my son.
I step from the car into the crisp autumn air. Whatever storm is coming, I'll weather it. I've survived worse than Luca Dante's return.
I just need to keep Enzo safe. Everything else, my heart included, is expendable.