Chapter 48 Ivan
IVAN
I pivoted a hundred times with this wedding.
I’m still skittish, and even with my new-found alliance, the trust isn’t there yet.
It’s going to take time for Il Consiglio and the Petrov Bratva to be comfortable around each other, and in the end, I laid down the rules to minimize risks for both sides.
What the women don’t know is that we’ll be helicoptered out to a neutral setting in Montauk.
I’ve booked three luxury houses currently on the market for the day just to keep everybody guessing.
It’s extreme, but fuck it, money isn’t the issue—security is.
I need to control this. Nobody needs fiddling with the wedding venue before our arrival, and as much as Il Consiglio can sway power with their dollars, they need to understand we’re on equal footing.
I can throw money at any problem, but money can’t replace people.
Now I’m all dressed up in a suit, the girls are running around in little white dresses, already with a grubby marks, and outside, the helicopter’s noisy rotors are signaling its arrival. In an hour, we’ll be married, and the deal sealed.
I wait for Gabriella in the foyer, holding her bouquet.
None of this is by the book, but who the fuck cares.
I just want to be done now so I can have her in my arms. I check the time again.
When I knocked and poked my head into Milana’s room half an hour ago, she was still in her robe, Milana doing the final touch-ups to her hair.
My sister shooed me out, grumbling that it’s bad luck or something to see the bride before the wedding.
Well, at least she won’t be fucked. Milana didn’t even insist on a phone call with Luca Scalera before the wedding—that’s how desperate she is to get out.
We’ve kept the numbers equal and to the minimum required to make these marriages legal.
Three on each side, the couples and one witness each.
I’m not messing around with this. I have Yuri, and Luca Scalera is bringing only Matteo, their Don.
Then there are my girls, too excited to realize this is weird.
Down the corridor, a door opens and closes.
Soft voices travel over, but I can’t decipher what they’re saying.
The women are done. I’m holding my breath, because while this might be my second time, I am planning to treat Gabriella like the queen she’s becoming in my life.
The queen my first wife could never be for problems of her own making.
Milana comes first into view, and I have to double-take.
Earlier, I didn’t pay attention to what she was wearing, too focused on Gabriella.
Now I cringe but sigh in relief, too. This isn’t the woman who was slowly fading away in front of me for weeks.
She’s still delicate, but she’s by magic returned color to her face with makeup.
The dress makes her look like a model on the runway.
The color might be a problem, but I’m beyond caring. Let her rebel in her own way.
But Gabriella—
By breath catches. She’s gorgeous. Her white dress is simple, with a wide band around her waist, accentuating the fall of the full skirt.
Her arms are bare, but the shoulder straps are wide, and the bodice high enough to only hint at her cleavage.
It’s virginal temptation in the perfect package.
She’s playing me, knowing how to bait me with her innocence.
As she walks down the corridor, I already see her walking down the aisle to me. I take in her hair, gathered in gentle waves from her face, a few little flowers scattered as if in a field. This is what Milana was busy with when I interrupted them.
I reach for her hand, taking a few steps up to her, wanting to touch her already, wanting to kiss her, but her fingers tremble in mine, and she averts her gaze, turning her face away.
Soon, moya ptichka. Soon.
“There’s a helicopter?” Milana says, slicing through the tension. “Can’t stick to a plan, can you, Ivan?”
“Nope. And you know why,” I tell her as I guide my bride-to-be outside to the massive patch of lawn that’s always served as a helipad.
Yuri is in control of the girls and has them each by the hand, pink daisies losing petals like confetti along the way.
For now, the rotors have stopped, allowing us to ascend the helicopter without issue.
I help Milana in, then Gabriella, taking turns to hold their flowers and giving them a steadying hand.
When I take my seat, I glance at Gabriella where she’s fumbling with the harness. Fuck it. Didn’t think about the dress and the flowers and the bridal hair and headsets when I arranged this.
“Here,” I say, leaning in to help her.
“I’ve never done this before,” she whispers, fingers fumbling.
“It’s okay, I’m here,” I say, reaching for the straps and closing them over her chest. At least, this one goes over her lap and not through her legs. I’ll be there soon enough. “You’re good?” I ask just before the noise becomes unbearable, making sure she’s properly buckled in.
She nods, her eyes searching mine, seeking reassurance.
I graze my thumb softly along her jawline. “It’s going to be fine.”
I hand her the headset, turn to see if Yuri has secured the girls, and give Milana a cursory once over. She’s used to this, having grown up in this level of luxury. I’d still bet money on her jumping out with a parachute if one was on hand.
Soon, the pilots have done all their checks and we’re up in the air.
It’s beautiful and distracting, flying all along the coast. Onlookers on the beaches would think this is a pleasure ride.
Rich folks looking at the fall colors from up high, in stark contrast with the vivid blue of the ocean.
Here, on the inside, we all know better.
I authorize the final destination just before landing, messaging it to the Scaleras where they’re heading in the same direction by car, having opted to fly in with their jet from Boston to one of the airports on Long Island.
They were on board with my demands, though were probably wondering why I’m so crazy and indecisive.
I bet none of them ever had to slice the throat of their best friend before.
Our destination is a mansion perched on a cliff, one of the oldest in the area, with sea views as far as the eye can see and a wide lawn allowing us to land. It’s spectacular. It’s special. It’s as good as it’s going to get.
Once we’re on the ground, things happen fast. My security is in place, but there are men here from Il Consiglio’s side, too. We’ve agreed on no weapons to keep things clean, and before our arrival, the men would have done bodychecks on each other. We have the all-clear.
I’ve booked some basic services, costing a fortune befitting a last-minute wedding, but it’s paid off.
A red carpet is rolled out in the big lounge with its glass walls overlooking the stretch of lawn to the cliff that drops to the ocean.
I had an officiant stationed at each of the three houses, and the one here is ready to perform the service.
The women and girls are in the kitchen, my sister and Gabi settling their nerves with hard liquor, no doubt there, as I wait with Yuri for the Scaleras to arrive.
“Keeping us guessing,” Matteo says when he and Luca finally walk into the house where we meet them at the door.
“Can’t be too careful nowadays.”
We briefly shake hands, but Luca is already looking around, keen to meet his bride.
“The whole thing is so fucking unorthodox, I hope you don’t plan every family gathering like this, Petrov,” Matteo grunts.
“Par for the course. For now. We’re not family yet.” And at least this isn’t a civil services back room in Boston at a dubious time of night. “Let’s get cracking.”
“Can we have a word with Gabriella first? She’s been hard to track down,” he says.
“She’s fine. You can talk afterwards.” Nobody is changing anybody’s mind last-minute.
“I suppose I can’t have a word with Milana either, before our vows?” Luca asks, sidling up to me.
“Why now? It’s a bit late in the game, isn’t it?” I say, not in the mood for this to drag on.
Luca sighs. “Is it always tit for tat with you, Petrov? Does it run in the family? More importantly, should I expect the same from your sister?”
This tit, I want to say, is the tat for killing Boryslav and five of my men, but I have some diplomacy left in my arsenal. His question is direct, which I like. “In business, yes. Similar to the Mafia.”
“But not in the family? Not when it comes to your wives, sisters? Daughters?” Luca prompts.
“No.”
“Good. Because we don’t operate like that. Business is business, family is family. There’s a sacred divide we don’t cross. We don’t treat rogue family members like we would rogue business associates.”
It’s a threat. Subtle and nuanced, but it’s there. Don’t let Gabriella ‘commit suicide’ like my first wife did. I shoot Yuri a glance. How much could they really know?
“Basically, what Luca is trying to say,” Matteo adds as he squeezes my shoulder, “is that you’ve gotta loosen up, Petrov. Otherwise, this is going to get real awkward.”
He’s right. I haven’t loosened up in years, warding off Chertnikov’s onslaught, fighting for our autonomy, our business, my family, and my girls.
“Should have had drinks beforehand like normal people,” Luca mutters under his breath. “To break the ice.”
“There’ll be time enough for that later, in a week or so.
I’ll bring Gabriella to Boston and check in with Milana,” I promise, sensing with relief I can’t show that the Scaleras also want a solid alliance, that more than being just business partners, they could maybe even be friends.
Family. This is what I wanted, craved, and desperately need.
I return Matteo’s shoulder squeeze, mimicking his bro-stance as I nod to Yuri to fetch Milana and Gabriella. “For now, let’s close the deal.”