Chapter Twelve
“We’re going to be late,” Kristo called through the closed door.
“I’ll be right out.” Luka stared at the swirled stream of blood and bile in the toilet. His stomach burned, and his throat ached. The medication from the doctor wasn’t helping, and he wasn’t sure how much longer he could put off the testing that needed to be done.
After the wedding, once everything calms down, I’ll get tested.
He flushed away the evidence of his illness and spent a few minutes washing his hands and brushing his teeth. He left the bathroom and found Kristo waiting with a concerned look. Brushing away his cousin’s worries, he said, “It’s fine. I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine.” Kristo frowned. He could see right through him, had always been able to read him. “But I’m not going to bring it up again.”
“Thank you.”
“Just like I’m not going to bring up Elona again or the night we spent getting drunk on cheap cocktails or the day we spent riding rollercoasters and eating sugary junk across Disneyland.”
He scowled at his cousin for exactly that. “Why do you keep fucking with me about this?”
“You know why,” Kristo replied pointedly.
“I don’t.” Luka’s insistent lie didn’t fool his cousin. They were too close to cover up a truth like this.
“There’s still time.” Kristo purposely placed himself in the way, forcing Luka to meet his imploring gaze. “There’s still time to make a different choice.”
“Stop.” He didn’t want to hear this, not again. “There is no other choice to be made. The agreements and the contracts—”
“Can get fucked!” Kristo grabbed him by the shoulders and gave him a shake. “Luka, this is your life! This is your happiness on the line!”
“My happiness?” He violently shrugged off his cousin’s hands.
“When has my happiness ever mattered? Huh? When?” He threw his hands out wide.
“Not when I was a kid. Not when I was a teenager forced to take over this family. Not when I was twenty or twenty-five or even thirty. My happiness has never been considered! Not once!”
“So make it a consideration!” Kristo was like a dog with a bone, refusing to let go. “You have a few hours to stop this, Luka.”
“And then what? Huh? We just lose all that money? Millions and millions in principal and interest? Money we need to grow this family. Money we need to pay the Russians for all the product we’ve already bought to move through that trade corridor that finally comes back under our control after this wedding. ”
“There are other ways—.”
“Where? What ways? Did you find them in Shanghai?” He didn’t let Kristo answer.
His cousin’s downturned and ashamed gaze was enough.
“In the last five years, we’ve lost almost forty percent of the narcotics trade because we haven’t had our trade corridor.
We’re down year over year in black market goods.
We screwed ourselves with the crypto scam.
The only place we’ve had year over year growth is in arms dealing, but how long will that last? ”
“Well, considering the war in Ukraine and what’s happening in Gaza—.”
“We can’t count on that for growth,” Luka cut in sharply. “We need capital to invest. We need that money. We need that trade route returned to us from the Raffaellis. If I have to marry Dafina and fuck a baby into her to get my hands on it, fine. Let’s go. I’m ready.”
Luka grabbed the salmon pink tie from the hanger on the clothing rack. With efficient and practiced movements, he fastened the tie into place with a perfect knot.
“Here.” Kristo handed him the matching vest. “So, you can match the flowers Drita picked and the tablecloths and the place settings and the invitations and...”
Luka ignored Kristo’s barb about the wedding planning. His cousin had counseled on more than one occasion that Dafina should be making more of the decisions about the ceremony and reception. Counsel he had ignored in favor of allowing Drita to handle things to ensure the process went smoothly.
“Dafina had no complaints about the wedding planning.” He took the vest and slipped into it. He moved in front of the gilded mirror in the corner of the room for a better look at the fit.
“Would Drita have listened?” Kristo eyed him in the mirror’s reflection. “Maybe if your bride had been included in the planning her wedding party wouldn’t have bailed.”
“Maybe she should have chosen better friends.” The fact that not one single friend had journeyed to Albania to stand with her in the bridal party left him uneasy. Dafina insisted she had been shocked to see that none of them had arrived, but he sensed she was lying.
“Or a better husband,” Kristo muttered.
“Hey!” He scowled at his cousin.
“You could have been kinder about it. Gentler,” Kristo insisted. “Maybe if you had tried to get to know her better?”
“There’s no point in talking about it now. It’s too late.” He grabbed the jacket Drita had picked out for the ceremony and slipped into it.
“Yes, it is.” Kristo sighed. “We should get going. Who knows how much longer until the old man’s heart finally gives out?”
Luka laughed shortly at the dark joke about Artan’s health.
“It’s a good thing he’s not the one walking Dafina down the aisle tonight. He’d have to drag his oxygen tank and mask with him.”
“I can’t tell if he actually needs it or if it’s all for show.”
“Probably a little of both.”
Luka agreed with a huff of laughter and then took notice of Kristo’s outfit. They were identical except for the slight variation in height. “You cut your hair and trimmed your beard.”
“We have to match.”
Luka hated asking so much of his cousin. “You don’t have to do this anymore.”
Kristo squeezed his shoulder. “We’re surrounded by our enemies. I’d prefer any bullets come my way instead of yours.”
“With this family, it’s more likely to be a knife,” Luka grumbled as he stepped out of the house.
“Or a bomb,” Kristo deadpanned.
He frowned at his cousin. “Don’t even joke about that.”
“Sorry.” Kristo lifted both hands in mock surrender. “But you know I’m right.”
He didn’t answer. It felt too much like jinxing the night.
“Where’s Rina? I haven’t seen her since this morning.”
“She left earlier with Drita. Something about looking out for—. Something about the flowers, I think.”
Luka pounced on Kristo’s obvious shift. “Looking out for what?”
Kristo hesitated before finally admitting, “Liliana.”
Luka cursed under his breath. “Are you serious? Again? She promised she was done with this. That she understood and was moving on now that she had closure.”
“She lied. She was at the venue last night during the rehearsal. Drita had her intercepted by our people, and Zec talked to her before he put her in a car and sent her home.”
“Really? And no one thought I needed to be told?”
“You have enough female problems without adding your ex into the mix.”
His phone began to vibrate, cutting off his smartass reply. He checked the screen. Darko?
He silenced the call, certain his friend wanted to share congratulations or some sort of ribald advice he wasn’t in the mood to hear.
Neither Darko nor his siblings had been able to attend the ceremony. Whether that was because they truly had other commitments or because there were still hard feelings about the crypto deal gone sideways, Luka couldn’t tell.
Not wanting his phone to interrupt the ceremony, he powered it off and slipped it back into his pocket.
When they arrived at the old Habsburg palace that now operated as a wedding venue, he followed Kristo through the maze of halls.
Eventually, they arrived at the designated room where they had been instructed to wait by the wedding planner.
Aleksander was already waiting, and Luka nodded at the youngest Dushku sibling as he came to stand near him. “Skender.”
“Luka.”
This close, Luka could see the resemblance between Dafina and her brother.
The same blond hair. The same nose and high cheekbones.
It struck him that Elona was the only child that favored their dark-haired father.
He was reminded of the nasty rumors about Ana back during the war, about her closeness to a certain blond bodyguard.
“Security seems tight.” Skender’s gaze lingered on the men standing outside the French doors. They were extra guards hired by Zec, trusted men who would keep the ceremony and guests safe. “Are we expecting trouble?”
“There’s always trouble when our two families are involved.
” Just because the war between their two families had ended didn’t mean there weren’t other enemies waiting in the shadows.
God only knew how many lives had been lost as collateral damage and how many vengeful relatives were biding their time for a chance to get justice.
“Carlo is here.” Skender mentioned his longtime jailer without a hint of bitterness. He’d always been surprisingly pragmatic about the situation.
“I spoke to him this morning.” Luka didn’t much feel like schmoozing and socializing right now. “I’ll talk to him again after the wedding.”
“After the wedding,” Skender repeated calmly. “When we’re supposed to pretend that we’re all one big happy family.”
“I wouldn’t go that far,” Luka muttered. “As long as we can learn to co-exist.”
“I’m not going to Houston with my mother,” Skender announced, surprising him. “She seems to think that’s the plan, but it’s not mine. I’m not jumping from one prison into another.”
“You still have a year left before you finish your degree. It wouldn’t make sense for you to leave unless you have acceptance lined up at a school in Houston.” Not that Ana Dushku had ever used common sense to approach any of her problems.
“That’s part of it,” Skender replied, “but mostly, I’m staying because Dafina needs me here.”
“She isn’t intending on staying.”
Skender’s mouth settled into a tight line. “She doesn’t get to make that choice.”
Taken aback by Skender’s reaction, Luka reminded him, “She’ll be my wife. It’s my decision.”
“It’s the wrong one.”