Luca
Two hours later, Doctor Morandi has been over every inch of me.
Whatever wasn’t healing properly got all the attention a doctor—clearly deep into Don Trapani’s pocket—could give to my battle wounds.
I’m on the mend, and I’m going to be fine.
I will even shed the limp with physical therapy, once the gunshot wound to my thigh has healed. It’s something to look forward to.
As I make my way slowly down the passage, Stephano comes up the stairs after seeing Doctor Morandi off.
“You’re good?” he asks.
“Better. He’ll come every day until everything is to his satisfaction.” Whatever that means. I’m not used to someone hovering around, but if it’s going to speed up the healing process, Doctor Morandi can hover all he wants.
“You can’t leave anyway. We’re witnessing a miracle.”
“What? Why?”
“Milana has hit it off with Carla. Don’t know how, don’t know why, but for the first time since I’ve met that girl, she’s opened up to someone. I’ve eavesdropped just long enough to realize Carla’s actually talking, telling her everything. Milana’s offered to stay and help her.”
“She’s seen Zoe?”
“Cat’s out of the bag now, bro, but your story will sell to outsiders. As for within the family? The way Milana is with Zoe is a dead giveaway.”
I huff. “I know. She can’t help it. Best we pivot and share the news. We’ll have to stay here a while, even if only to give Ivan Petrov time to cool off after learning about Zoe. Let the idea grow on him first.”
“You underestimate him. He’s a father too, and very protective. He’ll be with Zoe just like his is with his own daughters, irrespective of who fathered her.”
I haven’t had time to think any of this through, but it makes sense. As for the Scaleras…
“Matteo will want to make sure Zoe never suffers any of the wrongs Gabi did. Dominic would probably point-blank kill any fucker who even looks weird at our baby girl. Benedict will either be awkward as fuck with her, or become her favorite reclusive uncle, quietly looking out for her in his own way.”
“Yep. It takes a village.” Steph shoots me a glance as I stop at the top of the stairs.
“We have a village,” I say, bracing myself on the banister. “We are the village.”
We both chuckle and then I tackle the stairs at a snail’s pace.
Steph squeezes my shoulder once on the landing. “I didn’t realize it was this bad. You need to stay downstairs. There is a guest bedroom—”
“Yep. Stairs aren’t fun,” I say through my teeth, gritting my jaw at the exertion. “Where are Milana and Zoe?” I ask as we reach the bottom of the stairs, uneasy now that I haven’t seen them for a couple of hours.
“They’re making lunch. You have no idea how good it is to see Carla talking to someone. It’s shifted the whole atmosphere in the house.”
“I bet. She needed time and space and the right person.” My Milana. Of course she’s the right person. She’s perfect.
When we walk into the kitchen, Milana has Zoe over her shoulder, burping her, an empty baby’s bottle on the kitchen island, while Carla puts together antipasti at the kitchen island.
“Luca!” Carla says, and smiles at me.
I walk over to give her a side hug in greeting. Milana’s eyes light up, and she comes over to me in a few swift steps, patting Zoe’s back as she goes.
“And? All good with the doctor?”
“I’ll be hundred percent soon. Nothing unmanageable.” I loop my arm around her waist and kiss Zoe’s plump little cheek before brushing my lips along Milana’s hairline, breathing in my wife and the peace that comes with seeing her this happy.
“Good,” she murmurs, leaning close, worry still in her eyes.
“I’m really fine, princess, but we’ve decided to come clean to the rest of the brothers about Zoe. And to Ivan too.”
She nods. “I know. As long as it stays in the family.”
“It will,” Carla says, looking each of us dead in the eye. “We’re in this together.”
“Yes.” Milana nuzzles Zoe’s head. “Let me speak to Ivan first. I owe him that. And then it will be less of a bomb to drop in a meeting with Matteo and Dominic. Breaking this oath thing they’ve got going—which none of us had any say in—won’t be so dramatic once Ivan understands why I had to go to Russia.
And once he gets how—” She breaks off, swallows, emotion shifting on her face.
She looks up at me with tear-drenched eyes.
“And once he gets how brave you were, how brave Masha was—for me and for Zoe…I need to tell him everything first.”
I gather her in my arms in a hug, careful not to squish Zoe. “I’ll be there, by your side if you want.”
“Yes. Thank you. Always by my side.” She turns and kisses me, softly, warming me from the inside out.
“Right,” Stephano says, then clears his throat. “Everybody understood the brief then. I’ll set up the call in Don Trapani’s office. How much time do you need, Milana?”
“Half an hour?”
“You’ve got it.”
An hour later, Steph and I are in Don Trapani’s office. We know our brothers’ routines and they’re all early risers. This is a great conversation to have over their morning coffees. They can then lose their shit for the rest of the day while plotting Chertnikov’s demise.
Like Ivan did. Initially his reaction was incandescent, but then he softened to pure agony as the whole of Milana’s situation hit him.
I bet he’ll be dissecting every layer of what happened, including how his reactions and stance inadvertently forced her to keep secrets from him. Either way, I got the feeling Ivan and Milana just grew closer during that call, which was the outcome I’d hoped for.
Let’s see what the Scaleras reaction will be.
As we dial in, Steph lets Benedict enter the meeting first.
“You’re spilling the beans?” he asks, without preamble.
“Yep.”
“Fucking great. I’ll barricade myself in the bunker until they stop fuming.”
“Yeah, might take a couple of days.”
“Maybe.”
The poor guy is going to take all the flack for being in on this quest and keeping it to himself.
Stephano lets Matteo and Dominic in, and I shoot them my naughty-shit smile. “Good seeing you, Matty, Nicky.”
“What’s up?” Matteo asks, taking in me and Steph, our faces squeezed together on the screen. “Jesus. What happened to your face? There. On the right side. Did Steph beat you up? The asshole! Missed you that much he couldn’t keep his hands off you?”
Steph chuckles.
I smirk. “Not exactly.” I blow out a breath. Here goes nothing. “Before we let Ivan in on this meeting, you need to know Milana and I went to Russia.”
“What the f—” Dominic blurts out.
“To fetch her baby,” I say, before either of them can say any more. “It’s a little girl. Zoe.”
The look on Matteo’s face turns sour, a string of conflicting emotions playing out at speed.
“What the actual?” Color seeps from his face as it dawns on him that I sold him a lie. “Her baby? Is she safe? Are you safe? And Milana?”
“Evidently,” I answer him, my good hand splayed on my chest, indicating I’m still in one piece. “We’re all good.”
Matteo jumps up, hands in his hair, and disappears from the screen. Every now and then, he reappears into the picture as he paces his study. I heave out a quiet sigh.
“Let me make sure I understand correctly.” It’s just his voice, then he appears as he paces past the camera. “You took Milana to fucking Russia?”
Yep, bro is going to need some time to digest this.
Then he’s there, his face so close to the screen, I rear back. “To. Fetch. Her. Baby,” he spells out. “Not yours. From some random dead woman you fabricated in New Brunswick?”
“Yep.” At least Matteo is sharp this time of the morning. “We’re back in Italy now. I got banged up a bit during our mission.”
Jesus, watching him pace makes me very glad I’m not there in person.
“And you’re all safe?” he asks again.
I feel for him. He always expects the worse.
“Yes, every—"
“What do you mean by banged up?” Dominic cuts in, his gaze fixed on my cheek where the repercussions of the Russian’s slap are taking on a yellow-green hue.
“Just a taste of your medicine, Nicky. Nothing I couldn’t handle.”
“Jesus Christ.” He shifts in his seat, mouth pulled into a grim line. “You’ve had someone look at you?”
“Yep. Steph arranged Don Trapani’s doctor. I saw him this morning.”
“Steph was in on this?” Matteo barks into the screen.
“So was I.” Benedict sighs, raising a hand. “Do not, I repeat, do not come to my bunker and crap me out. You’ve been barred already.”
“Fuck. You three all played us.” Matteo shakes his head, and Dominic just stares blankly into the screen, probably reliving some horror of me taking his medicine.
“I’m good, Nicky,” I say. “Steph and Ben helped with logistics. Everything went fine under the circumstances. Now, before you get more worked up, Ivan already knows. We just got off a call with him five minutes ago. Milana told him everything…so. All’s well that ends well.”
“This isn’t ending well.” Matteo has dropped back into his seat and sits there, cupping his hands to his mouth, looking through the screen with eyes that shoot bullets.
“Not for Chertnikov, no. For us, we need to get our act together, because shit is still unfolding and I’ve learned a few things in Russia,” I say. “And if we want this whole mess which started with you offing Randazzo to end well for our side, we’re going to have to be proactive here.”
“Where’s the baby?” Dominic asks, his voice tender, ignoring my whole spiel about Randazzo. “A little girl? Zoe? Your Zoe?”
“Yes.” Warmth fills my heart at his words.
My Zoe. “Our little girl. We’ll stick to the story we built in the States to keep her real background hidden, but this is now a secret.
” Just like Gabi was. I look toward the office door.
“Milana just stepped out with her. Zoe was fussing. Didn’t care to meet the family for the first time over a video call. ”
Dominic smirks. “Fuck, dude. Why didn’t you tell us?’
“It was complicated. And we couldn’t waste time.” I shake my head. We’re leaving a lot of details out. I’m not telling them what went down with Masha in Russia, either. I’m protecting Milana, and this is a secret I’ll be taking to the grave.
Matteo huffs as he drops his hands from his face and buries them in his hair, leaning back. “This is a lot for seven in the morning. Where the fuck is Ivan Petrov? He’s late for this call.”
“He’s here,” Steph says. “I was waiting for you all to blow your fuses before I let him in. You’re all good? Going to behave nicely?”
“Be fucking glad there’s an ocean and some serious logistics between us right now,” Matteo says, snark thick in his voice. “Let Ivan in. Tell us how deep in the shit we are as a collective.”
Steph shoots me a glance, and I shrug. I was with Milana when she broke the news to Ivan, but at some point, they started speaking in Russian.
I only caught one word: Dimitri. Dimitri.
Dimitri. And then the pain in his voice, and in Milana’s.
This is their history, and I didn’t need to understand the language to get the agony my wife went through in sharing the past with her brother.
Ivan enters the call, and his face speaks volumes: he’s been hit by a freight train.
“So much for a fucking blood oath, eh?” he says, his voice dry, clipped. Despite everything he’s learned today, the man is in charge of himself.
“I suggest we go forward, and not look back to our quest in Russia,” I say, standing my ground, not planning to take any bullshit.
I don’t need to explain my actions to anybody.
My wife’s happiness was in my hands, and I would dive into hell again if needed to make—and keep—her happy.
“Here’s what I’ve learned, Ivan. Russians, this Chertnikov, who are so keen to take over your operations for whatever trade they have or shit they have to move from Russia to America, are looking for our Italian nemesis, Franco Fiore.
His name came up in a conversation I had with some Russians, but we know he’s dead. ”
“Jesus Christ.” Matteo palms his forehead.
“What the fuck?” Dominic grunts with a shake of his head. “How? What ‘conversation’?”
Benedict just sighs. He’s heard it all already.
“You don’t say,” Steph says beside me, shooting me a glance, his eyes darkening with wrath. “Wouldn’t mind killing him again.”
“I bet you won’t. Let’s just say the conversation was part of my…
uh…negotiations to get Zoe out of Russia.
” I clear my throat. “I didn’t reveal anything I knew, and no information on us being in Russia will go any further, but Franco Fiore had dealings with Chertnikov and didn’t meet his end of the deal.
Somehow, we’re now part of a—a…threesome?
Shall we say? That we didn’t care to join. ”
“Fuck my life,” Matteo grunts.
“Franco Fiore?” Ivan repeats. “Never heard of him.”
“Randazzo, maybe?” I prod.
“No.”
“Good for you. But fuck, we can’t stop hearing about either of them,” Matteo grunts. “Franco Fiore’s like a cat with nine lives, except he is very much dead.”
At this, Ivan quirks a brow. “By your hand?”
“Mine.” Steph proudly raises his hand in a little wave.
“How does this all fit together?” Dominic says. “There’s a link, but I can’t see it.”
“I’m on it,” Benedict says.
“What do you mean?” Matteo asks. “You found something?”
“It’s a gut feel, that’s all. It’s all a bit foggy.
Fuck, dude, I haven’t slept for days. Couldn’t fall asleep until Luca was safe out of Russia.
But there’s something there. Mom’s Bible.
The murders in Italy. Now this. Franco Fiore and Chertnikov, the connection with Randazzo… ” Benedict wipes a hand down his face.
Chiara Bellini. The one link he isn’t mentioning. The Mole. Still out there, primed to spread the word about Chertnikov’s girl being in the fold of Il Consiglio.
“A deadly combo,” I say. “We need to get ahead in this game we’re playing or we’re fucked.”
Benedict looks like shit, and guilt eats at me. He was worried about me. He probably still is. “You okay, bro?” I ask. “What can we do to help?”
“Haul your ass home as soon as you’re fit to fly,” he says on a grunt.
“You’re not fit to fly?” Matteo says, frowning. “What the fuck, dude? What did they do to you?”
I throw my hands up in the air, inadvertently showing him my hand with my somewhat shorter pinkie.
Maybe he’ll notice, maybe he won’t. It doesn’t matter—I’m done here.
I’m not up for an interrogation via video call right now.
“Everybody take a step back and think about everything. We need to figure this out together. Fill Ivan in on Franco Fiore. On Randazzo. Somewhere, something is going to click and then we go in, no holds barred.”
I stand, signaling that I’m leaving this meeting. “I need to check in on Milana and Zoe.” And take a lie down with my girls. I’m still shaken, and exhaustion comes upon me in waves in the aftermath of Russia. “You keep talking. There’re enough brains between you to figure this out.”
I stalk off to exit the office, hearing only protests and my brothers calling for me to come back. Nope. Let Steph fill them in. For now, I’m done.