Chapter 39
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Matteo
One Week Later
It’s only been two weeks since I came to stay near Anya and her family. Two weeks and I’ve already realized that going home any time soon isn’t something that I want. Going home at all isn’t something that I want.
I think I may be going crazy because all I can think about is figuring out a way to stay here forever.
I’m not thinking about how much I’ll miss my family—Jade and the kids especially.
I’m not thinking about spending my life with Grigory’s cooking instead of Martha’s or who will watch Dancing with the Stars with her while helping her fold laundry.
My mind is completely occupied by one simple thing. Convincing Anton Morozov to take me in. And unfortunately, I’ve only come up with one realistic way of making that happen. The solution to my problem is as obvious as it is extreme. I can’t stay here with Anya forever if I’m a Moretti Man.
Sure, the Pakhan of the Bratva can make allies through marriage to an Italian syndicate. He can have those allies come to visit his territory, yes. But to have a man with allegiance to another mafia permanently living in your domain? It’s not done.
So while Anya’s in her therapy appointment, I have her father and her uncles meet me somewhere that we can talk privately. I trust his guards are too scared of him to spy on us, and I’m guessing his office is at least partially soundproof. It’s the only location that makes sense.
“Are you just going to stand there and stare at us?” Lev asks, sitting back in his leather chair.
Mikhail and Anton have taken a seat too, but neither of them speaks.
I couldn’t sit if I wanted to, even though there’s another chair up for the taking. Anton’s office reminds me a lot of my father’s. But it’s bigger, and I’m sure that’s because he needs space for his brothers to join him often.
“I want to stay here. With Anya.”
There it is, just rip the Band-Aid off.
Lev, Mikhail, and Anton all blink and breathe quietly, completely unresponsive. I didn’t expect shock, but I assumed at least one of them would have something to say—even if it was just a snarky remark from Lev.
“I don’t think I need to say that I’m in love with her.
You all have figured that out by now. But she loves me too, no matter how much some of you—” I pause, narrowing my eyes at Lev.
“May wish it weren’t true. I’m willing to do whatever it takes to be with her, and I think we all want the same thing when it comes to Anya’s happiness. ”
Still, they give nothing away.
“She wouldn’t be happy moving to Moretti territory.
Her routine would be interrupted, and all of her comfort zones would be ripped away.
Sure, maybe after a couple of years she could learn to love it.
We all know that she’s gotten better about branching out.
But I don’t want to disrupt her life so that she can be with me. I’m willing to disrupt mine instead.”
Finally, Anton tilts his head slightly to one side, acknowledging me. “And how do you plan to disrupt your life?”
“I’ll leave The Outfit.” I swallow hard but keep my eyes steady on his. “And I want you to allow me into the Bratva.”
Lev lets out a cold scoff. “You do not belong in the Bratva.”
I try not to let his words affect me, knowing that he’d say anything to keep me away from Anya. He hasn’t hit me again, but he hasn’t warmed up to me either. Anton is less intense when it comes to our relationship, and he’s her father.
“Yeah? Where do I belong, then?” I challenge, shoulders straight and chin raised. “Back in the east with your niece by my side?”
“Watch it,” Lev warns.
“You watch it,” I snap back. “By all rights, I didn’t have to include you in this conversation at all. You’re not her father, and you’re not her Pakhan. I asked you all in here because Anya cares about you and I’d hoped that you care enough about her in return to help me with this.”
Lev doesn’t reply, but he clenches his jaw like he wants to.
“You think she’d be happy to have you give everything up for her?” Anton questions, tilting his head. “Say I give you what you want—”
“Anton,” Lev implores.
“Hypothetically,” the Pakhan continues. “You wouldn’t just be moving houses. You’d be forsaking your bloodline’s legacy for a girl. You would be publicly turning your back on your family.”
“She’s not just some girl,” I reply, barely containing my anger. “And I wouldn’t be turning my back on my family. They wouldn’t see it that way, and they wouldn’t give a fuck about anyone who thought that.”
“Our Bratva is different than your Outfit,” Mikhail points out mildly.
“I know that.”
Lev seems to think I don’t, and he tacks on, “It’s not so glitzy and glamourous. We don’t have celebrities with our last name. We don’t hold balls and public fundraisers. Our ranks aren’t so full of modern men, either. It’s a rougher business we run.”
“I know that,” I repeat. “You think The Outfit is all glitz and glam? Yeah, we have ambassadors keeping suspicious eyes off us. My own brother Emilio and his wife Melani are famous philanthropists according to the public eye. And yes, we throw charity galas and shit. But I think you all keep forgetting that I watched my uncle die not too long ago. Bad shit happens to us no matter what kind of criminals we are. That’s just life.
But this is my life, and I want to live it with Anya. Here. As Bratva.”
This time, they don’t remain quiet as some sort of test. I believe I may have just struck them silent. The moment stretches on, and I almost start holding my breath with anticipation.
Eventually, Anton breaks through the tension. “I’ll think on it.”
Neither of his brothers look upset with the decision, so I take what I can get. “All right,” I relent, looking between the three of them. “But heads up, I’m not sitting around and waiting for you to make a decision. I’m going to show you that I’m right. You’ll see.”
Anton doesn’t flinch. “I hope I will.”
Not even five minutes later, I’m hidden away in Anya’s empty room to make a call. A call I should have made days ago.
He answers before the call drops, and I don’t waste time on pleasantries or small talk.
“Hey, I need a favor.”
A deep rumble of a reply comes over the line. “Okay. What is it?”
“I need you to help me join the Bratva.”
“You know this idea is the dumbest one you’ve ever had, right?”
I glare up at Nico as I finish tying my shoe, jaw clenching as I try to decide whether it’s worth it to snap at him or not.
It’s the night after I pleaded my case to Anton, and I’m keeping good on my word.
I’m not just going to sit around waiting for an invitation into the Bratva, I’m going to show him that he has to accept me.
“I don’t remember asking for your opinion,” I mumble, settling for a grumpy response rather than an angry one.
The last thing I need to do is to fight with my brother before we leave the house.
“You’re the one who said you’d be here for a couple of days only.
It’s been a week and you’re still here.”
“And it’s a good thing I am,” he remarks, arching a brow. “Someone needs to look after you while you act recklessly.”
“Why don’t you keep looking after Anya and I’ll look after myself, yeah?”
Nico scoffs. “Like I’d ever take direction from you.”
An exacerbated sigh leaves me.
“Why don’t we focus on the task at hand?” Dmitri chimes in, his smooth voice unsurprisingly acting as the voice of reason. He may only be twenty-four, but the man is a dad to his core. Being levelheaded and calm is his speciality, unless something happens to his wife, of course.
It’s why I called him yesterday, and why he jumped on a plane to come help me, despite having a pregnant wife and two small children. He won’t stay long, of course. But he’ll be here for long enough to help me with what I need.
Nico blinks at him blandly. “The task at hand being you taking my little brother into a Bratva fighting ring to try and win the respect of your father and uncles so he can abandon his allegiance to The Outfit?”
“You’re only two years older than me,” I point out with a groan. Not to mention that I’m bigger than him. Taller and heavier. “Calling me your little brother is fucking weird.”
“When you act like a reckless little child, it seems fitting.”
I throw my hands up, tired of defending myself. “I’m not being reckless.”
“He’s not,” Dmitri agrees evenly. “Ivan and I have been training with him. He knows how our men fight now. He will beat them, and when he wins, he will be offered Morozov ink.”
The Morozovs offer entry to any man who proves himself in their rings.
A tattoo that welcomes you into their fold.
It’s only a ticket into the bottom of their ranks, but I have no problem working my way up.
I would take the most ridiculous of downgrades if it means I’m one step closer to being with Anya forever.
“You’ve been training him to beat your own men?” Nico questions doubtfully, almost scoffing.
“I knew that he would end up marrying my sister,” Dmitri reports with a light shrug. “I’ve been training him to beat everyone. He was already talented before, and already strong. But he was never dedicated to being the best. Now he is.”
My chest goes warm at the mention of marrying Anya.
I’m not sure how far off of a reality that is in terms of timing, but it makes me feel nice inside.
I’d take her as my wife tomorrow if I could.
But I doubt Anton would like me very much if I did.
And besides, Anya deserves much more romancing before I ask to put a ring on her finger.
“Fine,” Nico relents. “But if anyone even comes close to killing him, I’m stepping in.”
Dmitri nods, unperturbed. “I would not let him be killed. Jade would never recover if she lost one of her brothers.”
Nico knows that’s true, and the reminder is enough to make him relax.