39. Nik
The drive into work on Wednesday is bothersome. Everything and everyone is annoying me. I can’t seem to think straight—even though it’s imperative I do right now.
Tomorrow.
The raid on EV’s meeting is tomorrow night, and today we need to go over the plan with Salvatore’s second, Matteo. Luka won’t be going with us to take out the Eight for obvious reasons, but I’d be lying if I said this doesn’t worry me.
Luna’s words about kids yesterday didn’t scare me because she might want children. They scared me because I might want them, too. With her. And that’s something I can’t be distracted with right now.
A car swerves in front of me and I curse the driver, pulling right up to his bumper to piss him off. I’m jittery and irritated, and all I want is to go home to my wife. She deserves so much more out of this life than waiting up until past midnight for her husband to come home.
Luna knew something wasn’t right last night. Seeing her choose a ring for herself—it felt like she was choosing me, and it yanked my heart wide open. I wasn’t expecting the want and longing to grip me so hard—taking me by the head and pulling me under—but it did.
I’ve never felt closer to understanding my mother than I do right now. Always coming second to the pakhan where my father was concerned, having to leave her own home when my father required it for Bratva business, and raising a son in a world she had no control over. Do I want that for Luna? How can I possibly give her the life she deserves?
After darting around several cars and taking the shortest route possible, I make it to the office building in record time and shift into park next to Ivan’s vehicle.
As I’m reaching into the back seat, fumbling around for my blueprints, my hand snags on Luna’s sweater. I pause and trace my thumb over the soft cashmere material. The way she’d worn it last night with the first few buttons open at the top flashes through my memory.
Bringing it to my nose, I inhale her sweet scent, and a subtle moan escapes my mouth. The memory of laying her down between the sheets the other night gives me chills that aren’t associated with the upcoming raid.
Every interaction with Luna since has been meant to convey what I feel for her. To show her how much I value her. Mine. My wife. I’m growing more and more mad for this woman. Her pleasure is my new favorite thing.
The building is bustling with early morning activity. I don’t wait for the elevator, instead opting to clear my head with the thirty-five floors of stairs. I plow through the door leading to the stairwell and start the jog to the top.
With each echo of my shoes hitting the concrete steps, I school my thoughts. I’ve always been able to compartmentalize my emotions, and I refuse to enter this meeting with Luna at the forefront of my mind. This is one of the most significant raids we’ve ever attempted, and I can only hope every other Cosa Nostra and Bratva player involved has his head on straight.
Natallia greets me with a silent nod, but I don’t offer up my usual banter or winks—I can’t be that person right now. It’s like she knows, because she goes right back to her work, likely concerned with Igor’s own involvement during this raid.
Luka stands as soon as I enter the room. Our eyes meet and his jaw ticks, his focus extra sharp. “Nikolai, this is Matteo.” He gestures to a bald, built-looking man who’s scowling at me from the corner.
Matteo moves forward and extends his hand to me, and I shuffle my tube of blueprints around to take it.
“Where’s Salvatore?” I ask.
Matteo’s nostrils flare and a small grunt breaks his silence. “Mr. Buscetta is not coming, as he has other matters to attend to.”
I frown. Other matters? “Like what? Does he not care that eight of his men will be eliminating another organization tomorrow?” I ask.
Luka shoots me a look, preventing me from continuing my line of questioning. “Salvatore is following leads on Isabella today but will be stationed with me tomorrow,” he says, scrolling through his phone a moment before turning it over on his desk.
“Right,” I deadpan.
I’m annoyed Salvatore isn’t here to avenge the daughter he left to the wolves. I pop open the tube’s top and pour out the large rolled sheets—blueprints of the restaurant the Eight will be meeting at.
“I had to get physical copies because this building’s schematics aren’t in digital form.” Matteo moves next to me as I open one of the rolls and assists by adding a paperweight to each corner. I point out the main entrance.
“According to Kieran’s man, the Eight will have the entire restaurant closed down, and because they’re not meeting at the EV club, we can assume they’ll be carting in security. The main entrance will likely be the most fortified, so I suggest we take this back entrance through the kitchen.”
I flip to the site plan and point out the small service-access alley that butts up against the back door. “This is our best option for access,” I say.
Luka points at the park across the street. “The park is where I will be with Salvatore then. It will give us enough distance while also allowing us to monitor your progress.”
“Is the plan to take out the power?” Matteo asks, surveying the drawings of the building’s interior.
“Does the Cosa Nostra have experience with night optical devices? Can your men handle the raid while using the equipment?”
“We can handle it. But if I may offer a different perspective?”
I nod, eyes moving to Luka, who tucks both hands in his pants pockets.
“Because we have the element of surprise, I think we should give our men the best advantage we can by keeping the power on. If we cut it, any front entrance security will be alerted earlier than we want them to.”
I nod once more, enjoying the ease in which I can speak with Matteo versus his boss.
We continue to talk about the raid until the sun climbs in the sky and hangs directly over the city. With Matteo and I as leads of each organization’s team, I’m anticipating a strong strike, though I can’t help it when my thoughts pivot to Luna being left alone if something happens to me.
When Matteo leaves, Luka sinks back in his chair, a glass of vodka pressed to his head. His eyes harden on me. “Want a drink?”
“Nyet, I’m good. I want to have a clear mind going home tonight and into tomorrow’s prep.”
Luka nods and swivels around to face the large windows looking out over the city’s expanse. He lets out a long sigh, one I didn’t realize Luka was capable of letting loose. The weight of this strike is clearly weighing on him.
“I wish I could go with you, Nikolai.”
His words float out between us, and I know that, in this moment, the last thing he needs is teasing or a sarcastic quip. So, instead, all I say is, “I know, Pakhan.”
He rotates back around and lifts his chin to offer me a smile before tossing back the rest of his drink. “Kate’s nervous for you,” he says, grabbing his phone and then standing. “I’m sure Luna is as well.”
I shrug, smirking at Luka. Deep down, my stomach churns. I haven’t told Luna about the raid yet—and I’m not sure I will.
Suddenly uncomfortable, I stand, ready to head home so I can be back early tomorrow with our men to prepare. “I’ll see you in the morning,” I say, scooting to the door.
“Get some sleep, Nik.” Luka gives me a pointed look and I roll my eyes.
My grin disappears as soon as I’ve closed the door behind me. I doubt I’ll be getting any rest tonight.
I pull into the warehouse driveway exhausted and pissed off. Meeting Frank inside, we have a brief discussion concerning his duty to Luna tomorrow. Then I head up the stairs—but stop midway.
The smell of spices invades my nose, and my mouth waters. I jog up the stairs and open the door to see Luna dancing around the kitchen. She’s floating between the stove and the island, hair pulled back into a ponytail, with small wisps falling around her face.
Her demeanor has been up and down these past few weeks since her capture. Between the nightmares and worrying over her missing sister, it’s rare to see her enjoying herself.
Watching her in this place, with me, is heart wrenchingly wonderful. How could there have ever been a time when I didn’t want her?
“Oh, hey!” Luna steps back from the salad she’s putting together and wipes her hands on her light-washed jeans.
“Hey.” I smile. “Whatcha doing?” I advance to her, the need to wrap her ponytail around my hand demanding.
“Don’t panic, but I’m making dinner.” She gives me a wide grin when I finally get to her. I tilt her chin up with my thumb and index finger. Her lips part, and I take the opportunity to meet her mouth with mine. The slow graze of her lips sends shivers down my spine. Angling her mouth just right, I tangle my hand in her hair. She sways into my kiss, and warmth squeezes my chest.
She’s perfect.
I pull away, smiling at her. Her eyes are wide and slightly glazed, and her face is still tilted like she doesn’t want the kiss to be over.
“What are you attempting to cook?” I ask, moving around her to lift the top off a stock pot on the stove.
“Spaghetti and meatballs. I’m starting small.”
Luna places her hands on her hips, a look of determination flashing in her eyes before she goes to the oven to check on the meatballs. The deliciousness wafts through the kitchen, and I groan at the idea of a home cooked meal.
“It smells great. Let me change, and I can help you.” I jog out of the kitchen and run to throw on some sweatpants and a t-shirt.
A small black bag sits on the bed, and it captures my attention. The name, written in white script on the outside, is unfamiliar to me, and while I know I shouldn’t snoop, curiosity gets the better of me.
Pulling aside pink tissue paper, I’m met with aqua-blue lace. I pause, bringing my fist to my mouth. I should stop, but I can’t. I yank out the lingerie and hold it up between my hands. Silk and lace slip through my fingers and onto the bed. I dive, snatching the nightwear back to admire it.
Throwing the lingerie dress over my shoulder, I make my way back to the kitchen and sit at the island. Watching Luna toss meatballs into a pan with sauce, I wait for her to notice me.
She yelps when she turns around, eyes going straight to the piece sitting on my shoulder. She lifts the wooden spoon in her hand and points it at me.
“You’re a snoop. Go put that away.”
I smirk. “I’d rather you go put it on.”
Red crawls up her neck and onto her cheeks. When she’s embarrassed or unsure about something, she has a habit of shrinking away or hiding, but I don’t want that. I’ve loved seeing her grow more confident over these past couple of months; getting out from under her parent’s thumb and becoming an alluring woman who stands in the kitchen making spaghetti her little?—
“Are you ready to eat?”
I’m interrupted by her excited voice, and a plate piled high with pasta and meatballs slides in front of me. A tossed salad and a garlic breadstick make up the rest of the meal. I’m impressed.
We eat and discuss her day. However, everything she tells me—from her travel research, to what book she’s currently reading, to her next cooking endeavors—is woven between theories about her sister’s whereabouts and frustration over her latest unproductive conversation with her father. She wants to help, but he says he’s handling it. It’s out of her control.
That settles it for me. I can’t burden her with tomorrow.
“What do you have planned tomorrow?” I ask, trying to figure out what I’m going to do.
She twirls pasta onto her fork and shoves it into her mouth. I smile at seeing her eat so unhindered. After chewing quickly and washing her food down with water, she grins at me.
“Going to the library to return a couple books. You?”
“Just work,” I lie, glancing away from her.
Because that’s all this strike is. Work.
And a healthy dose of revenge.