Chapter 67 Gabi
GABI
I’m back in Boston, on the way from the smaller commercial airport to Matteo’s apartment. I haven’t left Ivan’s compound since I went with him that day we met in Central Park, and even so, things seem less strange and overwhelming than the first time I drove through outer Boston.
Still, I’m clutching his hand. He’s busy on his phone and lets go every now and again to type, but reaches for me as soon as he’s done, his fingers resting gently with mine on my Bible where it takes up space between us in a manila envelope.
Yuri is in another car, and we’re in some type of convoy, but I’m still trying to figure that out. All of this security happens without me knowing how it works or who is behind the arrangements, which I find more and more annoying. I want in. At least I know, as long as I’m with Ivan, I’m safe.
I’m nervous for many reasons, and I tell myself it’s mostly because we left the girls behind. Kostya is probably Bratva goodness itself, but still. I want to be home already.
The chances that this woman is the same one who did my piercing, who physically maimed me, is basically zero. But the thought she could be, and that I’ll have to face her again, has me raw with dread.
We enter the gated basement parking and are subjected to security checks.
“You’ve no weapon, sir?” a guard asks after he has scanned and patted Ivan down.
“Nope. They have,” he grunts, clearly annoyed, pointing to our bodyguards.
“Not a very warm welcome,” I say as I slide my hand in his, wanting to cling but trying to be brave. “I’m sorry.”
“No worries, moya ptichka. If this were my place, my guards would have put on fresh surgical gloves to dig where the sun never shines.”
“Oh.” I need to step up to get scanned, but Ivan’s arm shoots out to block the guard from getting closer to me. “Nobody touches my wife. She’s the Don’s sister, for fuck’s sakes.”
“Sir.” The man drops his gaze and steps away, giving Yuri a quick once-over. “Follow me, please.”
Ivan is as tense as I am as we approach the private elevator, and it swooshes open to reveal Stan, one of Matteo’s bodyguards, stepping out to meet us.
“Mr. Petrov,” Stan says. “Mrs. Petrov. And?”
“Yuri Sokolov,” Ivan says coldly. “My counsel.”
“Welcome,” Stan says with a nod. “Follow me.”
“My guards?” Ivan asks, waving to the two men on standby, eyes on us, watching every procedure as if we’re chickens being weighed for slaughter.
“They stay here with our security crew until you leave.”
Ivan’s shoulders remain stiff as we walk into the elevator.
“It’s okay. Remember I stayed here for weeks,” I murmur to him, trying to shake my own dread. “And to be honest, it’s safer than your place, what with being on top of a high rise.”
Ivan just grunts, and we ride the elevator in silence, Stan shooting me questioning glances and me shaking my head ever so slightly to tell him to not take chances. My husband is on edge.
When we enter the apartment minutes later, voices and footsteps sound from the lounge. And then Dominic is there, heading straight for me, taking in every inch and doing mental checks. He shoots Ivan a quick glance as he pulls me close for hug.
“Any news on Chiara?” I whisper as he has me in his arms, but his firm hold steadies me just like Ivan’s does. Here, between these men, I’ll always be safe, and the tension in my body gives a little.
“This is the first visual I’ve had of you since you got married. Let me first make sure you’re okay,” he whispers back as he puts me at arm’s length and scans my face. “You’re glowing, but your eyes are filled with worry.”
“For Chiara.” It’s been weeks, and honestly, I want closure.
Every day, I’m oscillating between expecting the worst—tortured, torched—and Yuri ambling over to me with his tablet, opening a livestream that would make me blush, and seeing my friend knee-deep into acts I’ve been thoroughly introduced to, but with strangers.
“Be patient, cara. These things take time.”
“I’m tired of being patient,” I groan, finding little relief from my nauseating anxiety.
Dominic lets me go as Matteo steps in to hug me.
“You look well, cara.”
“I am well.” I let go so Ivan can shake hands with my brothers. “Tasha?”
“She’s got classes today.”
I would have loved to have her here, even if just to have another female presence to confide in once I’ve faced my nemesis.
“Ariana?” I ask Dominic.
“At the vet with Bruno for an eye-op we scheduled and couldn’t cancel last minute.”
Dang it. Ariana is always calm in a crisis, and I’m heading for a crisis, even if only an interior one.
“My sister?” Ivan asks, glancing around.
“Luca said they’ll come later, once we’ve dealt with business.”
“I see.” He reaches for my hand to curl his fingers stiffly around mine. “Probably better that way.”
Matteo indicates for us to continue to the big open space, leading us beyond the foyer. Ivan makes sure his body is between mine and whatever awaits us in the lounge.
It reminds me of that day at the convent in Potenza, when I watched Dominic and Ariana arrive. Dominic shielded Ariana in the same way, and my heart swells. My husband is not only possessive, but protective, too.
When we walk into the intimidating space, I watch him take it all in, scanning the vast interior of the open-concept lower floor. He isn’t impressed by the grandeur, but a relieved squeeze to my hand tells me everything. Security check: cleared.
“I have this for Benedict,” he says. “It’s Gabriella’s Bible.”
“Benedict is in my office on a call.” Matteo takes the envelope. “He’ll be with us once he’s done, but I’ll go lock this up so long for safekeeping.”
“Please look after it, Matteo,” I say. “I don’t know what you hope to find in there, but—”
“Of course, cara. It’s our mom’s.”
I watch as he takes the stairs with one of my few prized possessions and then I slump down onto a sofa. This tension is going to kill me. Just me, my husband, Yuri, and my three brothers, waiting to see if they can squeeze information out of this Mara woman who might know everything, or nothing.
“They’re on their way from the airport,” Dominic says, reading my mind. “They landed an hour ago so they should be here soon. Do you want something to drink or eat?”
“I’m good,” I say, resting my hand on my stomach. I’ve not been able to eat a thing; too tense. I keep telling myself by this time tomorrow morning, it will all be over. Even two hours from now— “Just some water, please.”
Ivan walks to the window and looks at the view. “Quite the place Matteo has,” he says as he keeps Dominic in his periphery where he has ambled off to the kitchen.
“Yeah, Tasha isn’t keen to stay here, though.”
“No?”
“He’s looking at renovating one of the other apartments in the building,” Dominic continues.
“Which you own?”
“Which we own.”
Gosh. I didn’t know that. “Like the whole building?”
“Yes,” Dominic says as he hands me a glass of water. “We own the whole building. We can give you a tour? Later?”
“Sure,” Ivan says, but everything in his tone and stance says we’re not going anywhere. He comes to stand behind me and puts a hand on my shoulder. “We’ll know soon.”
Matteo comes out of the master bedroom upstairs, holding his phone up. “They’re here. Going through security checks.”
“Good.” Dominic shoves his fists into his pant pockets and rolls on the balls of his feet.
That’s it. I just can’t. I shoot out of my seat. “God knows you all make me so nervous! I need space.”
“What do you need, moya ptichka?” Ivan is right there, a hand on my arm.
“Is there any way I can watch her first? See if it’s her before I actually face her?” I whisper. “I don’t know if I can do it.”
“Fuck…of course.” He rakes a hand through his hair. “I didn’t think about it. There must be a solution—”
“The secret passage,” Matteo calls as he heads down the stairs.
“Yes, here, quick,” Dominic says, showing me to follow him. “There’s a double-sided mirror in the guest washroom. You access it through the pantry closet.”
Now my heart is beating in my throat; we only have minutes.
“Why would you have a double-sided mirror in the guest toilet?” I ask as Dominic rushes me to the pantry, opens the double doors, and once inside, presses on the wall that holds the brooms and dusters and mops.
“Mafia, cara, obviously,” he says with a tease of a smile as the wall makes a clicking sound and he pulls at it to reveal a secret passage. It’s basically just another door, without a doorknob, and if you didn’t know it was there, you’d never see it.
“This way.” As he steps inside, it triggers a motion sensor, and a row of lights illuminates the narrow passage.
“Better lighting than you’d ever find in a convent’s secret passages, I can tell you that much,” I mutter as I follow him, traversing the expanse of the kitchen and now understanding the layout. We’re heading straight for the guest washroom but coming from behind.
When we reach the dead end, he pulls at a string, rolling up a blind that reveals a window onto the spacious washroom’s handbasin and door. The two-sided mirror.
Good grief. It’s a clever little hideout and spy chamber. “Thank the Lord it doesn’t look over the toilet.”
“No. We’re not that evil, but if you want to watch, you can just lean in and to the side, like this—”
“Dominic,” I say, giving him a sisterly shove. “I’ll come out as soon as I’m…I’m… ready.”
“Take your time. I’ll close the pantry doors, but leave the secret entry open.” He squeezes my shoulder. “Remember she can’t see you. We might need to funnel some water down her throat first, so just be patient.”
I roll my eyes at him, but I can do with time alone.
To process this. To process everything that’s happened over these past weeks—years—that’s culminated in this moment.
I didn’t expect the reality of facing this woman to affect me this much.
I watch as Dominic walks out, then there’s a shuffling sound and Ivan peeks down the passage.
I meet my husband’s gaze down the length of the corridor.
“You’re okay in there?”
“Yes. I’ll be fine.”
He looks deeply worried, so I muster up a smile to reassure him.
With a nod, he closes the closet just enough to let a thin strip of light in. All I want is to rush up, shove my foot in at the last second to hold him back and say I love you, but I don’t.