Chapter 16
Sixteen
“I’m not going to marry you.” I might as well get this right out in the open because the determined way he is carrying my suitcase from the room says something different. “Go ahead and toss me to the wolves now. It isn’t happening.”
Vitali doesn’t respond. The infuriating man simply snags my hand and drags me along behind him. The penthouse is quiet, and I don’t hear anyone else moving around.
“Where is everyone?” It isn’t that the penthouse is normally bustling with activity or anything, but there are usually several guards posted at the entrance to the elevator, and the house staff, including the chef, can usually be heard milling about the kitchen.
“Evaline is on her way to stay with Vanya in Vegas for a little while,” Vitali grunts as if giving me this small tidbit of information is painful for him. “Kenzo and Adrian are waiting for us at the airstrip with our men.”
Wait. Evaline is gone? Something akin to hurt twists in my chest at knowing she left without saying goodbye. It’s not like we’re besties, but I thought we were at least becoming friends. Apparently, I am wrong again.
“Where are we going?”
Vitali huffs in frustration, pulling us into the elevator and pressing the button for the garage. “Seattle. We are meeting with Tomas Ivankov and his sons.”
A wave of dread crashes over me at the mere mention of the Boston Bratva leader’s name. It’s the same suffocating despair I’ve been trying to bury deep within since I first heard whispers of contacting him. They have no idea what he commanded his men to do to me.
“I thought he was in Boston,” I murmur, my voice barely audible as tears threaten to spill from my eyes at the mere thought of confronting him again. The elevator doors slide open with a soft chime, and I trail behind Vitali toward one of the sleek, black Escalades gleaming under the muted garage lights. Dario, stands waiting for us, a silent sentinel by the vehicle.
“Normally.” Vitali helps into the backseat, motioning for me to slide over. Apparently he is joining me back here. Dario shuts the door when we are settled and stows my suitcase in the trunk along with Vitali’s. “But we are going to need the help of his protégé Matthias Dashkov and the other families we are allied with. It is easier for him to travel to Seattle than for the other families to all travel to Boston. Safer as well.”
I hadn’t realized there were so many other mafia families operating in the Pacific Northwest. My father had always ensured that I learned about the mafias he held in high regard. These were the ones we considered allies, but the families he had me study were all based in Europe. I never delved into the families here in the States as we had very few alliances to draw upon domestically.
“Oh.” The word slips from my lips, as there’s nothing else to say without revealing too much. The prospect of coming face to face with the man who haunts my nightmares causes dread to race through me. Although I’ve never met him, his voice is etched in my memory. His henchmen made sure to remind me repeatedly of the horrors he ordered them to inflict upon me should my father refuse to cooperate. I was only sixteen at the time, sheltered but not completely na?ve. Whatever innocence I possessed was shattered into a thousand pieces that day.
Vitali fixes a stare on me, his expression inscrutable—a mask I cannot decipher. But as soon as we start moving again, his phone rings, pulling him into the web of his future plans. A future he believes will culminate with me as his wife.
That is not going to happen. He would have to drag me down the aisle, kicking and screaming, for that wedding to take place. He could forge my signature, force his ring onto my finger, but I will not partake in any of it willingly.
It doesn’t take us long to arrive at the same airstrip we flew in on. The sun casts a warm glow over the tarmac as we approach. This time, the plane waiting for us is slightly larger than Vitali’s sleek aircraft. As we step inside, the difference becomes immediately apparent. Unlike Vitali’s opulent jet, with its plush seating and open, relaxed layout, this interior resembles a commercial flight, but the seats are arranged in rows that face one another, creating an intimate and sociable atmosphere. The soft hum of engines fills the cabin, and the scent of fresh upholstery mingles with the crisp air conditioning. Nearly every seat is taken save for a few in the back where Kenzo and Adrian are patiently waiting.
Without uttering a single word, Vitali guides me gently into the window seat, situating himself on the aisle seat, leaving an empty space between us. The cabin lights cast a soft glow, and I can feel the hum of the engines vibrating beneath my feet. Swallowing back the unease that churns within me, I fumble clumsily with the seatbelt, the metal buckle cool against my fingers, before leaning back into the cushioned seat and closing my eyes. The thought of flying makes my skin prickle with discomfort; it’s never been my preferred mode of travel.
Outside, the sky is a gradient of deepening twilight, and the soft murmur of passengers settling in fills the air. It’s late, nearly dinnertime, and the day has already been a whirlwind of activity. My mind races with the events that have unfolded, leaving me both exhausted and ravenously hungry. As the plane begins its ascent, the world outside shrinks away, and I am left in a cocoon of fatigue and anticipation.
“Welcome aboard,” the pilot’s smooth voice comes over the intercom. “We will be cruising at forty-one thousand feet. Feel free to move about the cabin once the seatbelt sign is off. The flight crew will be coming around shortly with dinner and drinks. The time in Seattle is currently two in the afternoon. We will be arriving there at approximately five in the evening local time. Winds are looking good, and we should experience very little turbulence. Thank you.”
It doesn’t take long for the plane to even out and the flight crew to begin serving dinner and drinks. The ambience in the plane is subdued, the voices of the men around me nothing more than whispers.
“Where are we meeting them?” Hiro questions, leaning forward from across the aisle.
“McDonough’s down on First Avenue,” Vitali tells him. “Liam Kavanaugh’s place.”
I don’t recognize the name. But then again, I didn’t expect I would, but I hate feeling out of the loop in conversations, even when I know I’m not meant to be a part of them.
“All the families will be there,” Dario assures everyone. “And all of them said they have our backs.”
The men all nod in agreement, their expressions full of excitement and caution.
“It appears that it isn’t just us that Salvatore is pissing off,” Vitali remarks with a smirk, his voice tinged with a hint of amusement. His words stir a dark, unsettling feeling in the pit of my stomach, like a storm beginning to brew.
“He’s been targeting multiple cities here in the states, trying to spread his product,” he continues, his tone now grave. “Tomas mentioned that a few years ago, he had to negotiate a deal with Fino because that piece of shit was sending flesh through his ports.”
A few years ago…
The phrase hangs in the air. The memories of that day refuse to fade, their edges still sharp and cutting. On nights when sleep eludes me, the past rushes back with relentless clarity, the abuse I endured as vivid and haunting as if it had just happened, leaving an indelible mark. But to Tomas Ivankov, it is as unremarkable as a simple few years ago.
Not wanting to hear anything more and desperately trying to maintain my composure, I rest my head against the cool, hard frame of the window and let my eyelids flutter shut. The remnants of dinner are heavy in my stomach, like an immovable brick, and the unsettling conversation replays relentlessly in my mind until it fades into nothingness.
At some point, a warm, gentle hand tenderly cradles my head, causing me to stir slightly, but exhaustion weighs down my eyelids, making it impossible to open them. The familiar click of a seatbelt echoes in the quiet, and I feel myself being carefully maneuvered to lie across the empty seat beside me.
My head sinks into a luxuriously soft pillow, and I instinctively snuggle in closer, enveloped by a comforting warmth as a cozy blanket is tucked snugly around me. The soothing scent of cedarwood and smoke fills the air, wrapping around me like a gentle embrace, as I drift back into the peaceful embrace of sleep.
I’m not sure how long I slept, but when I finally stir, I immediately sense that I’m no longer on the plane. The familiar hum of the engines has vanished, replaced by the chaotic symphony of heavy traffic outside and the smooth glide of air travel substituted by the jarring, uneven rhythm of bumpy, broken roads beneath us. The air is different, heavier, and tinged with the scent of gasoline and city life.
Soft voices echo in the confined space around me, their words a distant, incomprehensible murmur until fragments of conversation begin to sharpen, my name resonating like a distant drumbeat.
“She isn’t going to be a docile bride.” The Russian-accented words belong to Adrian, his tone laced with skepticism. “How do you expect to get her compliance? Force it?”
Vitali responds with a dark, humorless chuckle that sends a chill down my spine. “Isn’t that what Kenzo did? Forged her signature and filed it without her knowing? I see no difference here.” His statement hangs in the air, heavy with implications, as the silence stretches taut like a drawn bowstring.
“That’s true,” Kenzo’s voice follows, a whisper soft as a sigh. “But we’d been engaged since before she was born. Evaline and I were inevitable, and even in her defiance, she understood that. Gia isn’t Evaline. She’s strong, undeniably so, but there’s something in her eyes—a darkness that neither Vanya nor Evaline have ever encountered.”
A darkness. Kenzo’s term for the life I’ve been steeped in is both apt and damning. It encapsulates everything I have ever known: a world shrouded in shadows, marred by damage and brokenness. Evaline and Vanya, in the brief time we’ve shared, have unveiled fragments of their own histories to me. Like me, they endured childhoods under the oppressive rule of parents who despised them, withholding love and kindness. Yet, there our paths diverge.
“She’ll do what she must to keep her brother alive,” Vitali growls, his voice a low, threatening rumble. “He’s landed himself neck-deep in trouble, and if she wants to prevent a bullet from finding his head, she’ll follow orders.”
He found Elio? Where? My mind races, a chaotic storm of fear and urgency swirling through my veins, electrifying every nerve. Panic claws at the edges of my thoughts as I grasp for possibilities. Maybe there is something I can do… perhaps I can find a way to convince Vitali that Elio was coerced, manipulated into attempting such a reckless act against him. It’s not in Elio’s nature to plot an assassination on his own—right?
I cling to this hope, desperately searching for a way to unravel this tangled web of danger surrounding us.
When the conversation dwindles and a heavy silence envelops the car, I begin to ‘stir’, crafting the illusion of just emerging from sleep. I shift slightly, my body adjusting to the seat’s contours, and let out a genuine yawn, my jaw stretching wide, a testament to my lingering fatigue. The sensation is akin to being wrung out like a damp cloth. The effects of the time change are relentless, a persistent ache that lingers in my bones .
It reminds me of the trip from Italy. Those initial two weeks spent in that cozy cabin with Elio were a blur of drowsiness and tranquility. I would spend most of the day enveloped in the warmth of the soft sheets, only to reluctantly pull myself from the embrace of the bed for brief moments of time. The hours of wakefulness were fleeting, and I would find myself nestled beside my brother on the worn, comfortable sofa, lulled back into slumber by the rhythmic sound of his pen scratching against paper as he worked diligently beside me.
“Are we there?” I ask with another, slightly milder yawn. Vitali spares me a brief glance before shaking his head.
“Not much further,” he assures me.
Vitali is true to his word because only a few moments later we are pulling up in front of one of the most luxurious hotels I have ever seen.