Eight
“Kaiden, I’d like you to reach out to Aspen on my behalf. I have a lucrative proposition for her.”
I stare at Mika and wonder if he has any comprehension of how those few simple words explode inside my brain.
It’s been almost a year since the Viper’s death, and while I was full of regrets and recriminations about her in those moments I thought were my last, I’ve yet to do anything about them.
I’ve been too busy finding my feet. Establishing my place as a bona fide member of the syndicate, rather than an unpaid fall guy.
Making sure I live up to the faith Mika has in me and working to carve out any remaining rot within the organization.
And maybe trying to make myself into a man Aspen might be proud of, rather than the penniless, uneducated street rat she grew up with.
We’re sitting in Mika’s office with Ares standing like a silent shadow in the background.
“I’m not sure I’m the best placed person to do that,” I tell him carefully, because as a rule, you do not turn down a request from the boss. “Perhaps Helene…”
Helene’s, and therefore Aspen’s, visits to the compound changed for a little while after her mother fell pregnant with her baby brother, Milo.
For maybe an entire year, Helene only visited Therese.
I never said anything about it to Aspen, though it didn’t take a genius to put two and two together.
Especially when her visits to Sal resumed when Milo was about six months old.
At least for another seven or eight years.
Then, I guess Sal decided Helene, at forty, was too old to be his mistress, and he found yet another younger model.
I always got the impression that it was a relief to Aspen’s mother.
Mika grimaces. “Well, I’m pretty sure I’m not the person to approach Helene.”
Yeah, well, that pretty much goes without saying. Mika may have been sheltered, but he’s far from stupid, and his mother, Lorna, drinking or drugging herself into oblivion to drown herself from her husband’s infidelities certainly had to have impacted his childhood.
I wonder if he knows what I suspect - that Milo is his baby brother.
That he and Aspen share a sibling. It’s possible he doesn’t, since Mika would have only been around nine or ten years old when Milo was born.
Probably too young and sheltered to be aware of the things I was at four years his senior.
Plus, I was always watching, and noticing, and collecting information while I roamed these halls and hid out in places where I could eavesdrop.
Maybe that’s another reason why Mika’s uncle, Vito - the Viper - Rossi, was so dead set against me and Aspen as a couple.
He never would have tolerated anything that might have found me favor with the Don.
Not that Sal ever acknowledged Aspen - or even Milo, the baby who might be his.
Certainly, Milo never appeared around the compound when Helene was visiting like Aspen used to.
Just another thing that fuels my suspicions.
But Mika and I are far closer in age, and my association with Aspen would have as good as made us family if my suspicions are correct.
Perhaps that’s what Vito was trying to avoid; my collaboration with the future Don, not the current one.
“The two of you were inseparable when you were younger. Surely you’re still in touch?” Mika’s question pulls me back to the present. So much has changed, and so much has stayed the same.
I wonder if this is a result of the celebration we both attended last month. The welcoming of a new Bratva heir to Niko and Lyah Radaeva.
Niko made a big show of presenting his wife with a specially commissioned painting. An Aspen original.
Seeing it. Feeling her essence in the colors and brush marks. Being so close to something she created. Something she’d engaged with and been absorbed with. Something that bore her touch… It was almost overwhelming.
Aspen, well, she’s still it for me. I’ve indulged in sex occasionally, sure - but never for anything more than the need for a physical release. There was no chance of losing my heart when it still belonged to my childhood sweetheart.
The woman whose heart I blew up like it was a grenade in order to keep her safe. I doubt very much she appreciated that; especially since I never explained exactly why I upped and left while she was still recuperating in the hospital. A time when she arguably needed me most.
For a moment, I can’t answer. Can’t even form words. It would be a colossal lie to say I haven’t thought about Aspen every single day since the Viper’s death. Wondered if there’s a chance for us now he’s no longer a threat.
But what the hell would I tell her?
Hey, remember me? Sorry I ran out on you and broke your heart when you were in hospital recovering from a hit and run. Oh, and by the way, that was my fault, too.
Yeah, no. I’m pretty sure that won’t wash.
“We’re married.” The words blurt out without permission. Because yeah, that particular status still exists since neither one of us sought a divorce.
Me because I couldn’t bear it. Who knows why Aspen never ditched my sorry ass. Especially after she became a successful artist.
Mika’s eyes widen fractionally, and while it might not be much of a reaction, I know I’ve surprised him. Man has a poker face to rival my own.
He stays quiet, and I know I need to explain. “As soon as she turned eighteen, I told Vito I was done and split. We had ourselves a quick registry office do and moved into a tiny apartment together.”
I’ve never been one to overshare, so I have no idea what’s prompted the word vomit right now.
Mika stares at me, and I feel like he’s looking into my soul. “What happened?”
He asks, but I have a gut feeling he already knows.
“Your uncle didn’t take kindly to losing his fall guy.”
He says nothing, simply nods for me to continue. The words are still hard.
“Aspen had a string of ‘accidents’.” I swallow and look away. “The last one was a hit and run that left her in hospital. It was followed by a threat from Vito to finish her if I didn’t return.”
Mika steeples his fingers under his chin. “I remember you weren’t around for our martial arts sessions for a good while.”
He’d have been about fourteen at the time.
“I was told you were ‘out of commission’. When I saw you again, you looked like you’d lost an argument with a Mack truck. I think you had a broken arm.”
I laugh, but there’s no humor in it. “Oh yeah,” I agree.
And four broken ribs, a partially collapsed lung, a broken collarbone, bruised kidneys that had me pissing blood for a week, and so many cuts and bruises there wasn’t a single unscathed patch of skin on my entire body.
But even that pain paled in comparison to how I felt about losing the love of my life.
“Your uncle wasn’t one to let anything go without the appropriate punishment. ”
Mika purses his lips and looks at me through narrowed eyes. “And no, like I already told you, I didn’t kill him,” I add to the rest of my verbal diarrhea. “But I sure as hell thought about it a good few times.”
Ain’t that the truth. I sometimes wonder how I held myself back.
Seems Mika feels the same. “You have more self-control than I think I would in your position.” I wonder if his words are a test or maybe even a trap.
I wouldn’t say anyone was particularly upset over Vito’s death, but the fact remains that one of the most senior figures of the LCN was murdered in his own home, when that should have been impossible.
And the culprit still hasn’t been identified.
“There was no self-control involved. I’d have offed him a dozen times over if I’d thought I could get away with it. But I was always going to be the first person anyone looked at. I’m honestly still surprised to wake up in the mornings.”
“No one’s looking at you for it. Not then and not now,” Mika reassures me, and I have to admit, it feels good to have the support of arguably the most powerful member of the organization. Maybe even more than the Don himself, who’s become little more than a figurehead in recent years.
Mika’s done a lot for me these past twelve months. He’s provided me with wealth, direction, and freedom. I respect him and what he’s trying to achieve, even against the odds.
Truth is, I owe him. And maybe I owe it to myself and my estranged wife to face up to my past. “I’ll reach out to Aspen,” I say, looking him in the eye.
“You don’t have to. After what you’ve told me, I’m prepared to let it go.”
I appreciate that he’ll backtrack on his demands and not enforce them, no matter what, like Vito or his father would have done.
“I know,” I tell him with a nod. “And that’s exactly why I’ll do it. I can’t guarantee she’ll entertain me… but maybe it’s time.”
Time to see if there’s any chance of getting the love of my life back.
For the first time in forever, I allow the sweetest memories in. The ones that kill me as much as they warm me.