Chapter Thirty-eight
Rodion
There were things in life I never bothered with. Things that men like me didn’t have the luxury to practice. Comforting someone? That word didn’t belong in my vocabulary. Reassurance? Just lies dressed up pretty. Action was the only language I spoke, and mostly, it was carved in blood.
Alessia sat quietly beside me, her head tipped against the window. I watched her walk out of their house earlier, hunched over. What was so shattering about learning you had a brother? As long as nothing had changed, why did it matter?
The car slowed at a red light. Normally, I would use the stop to run numbers in my head, play angles, and decide on the next move. Instead, all I heard was her silence louder than my thoughts.
“Your father. Is he healing?” My eyes stayed on her.
She shifted, glanced my way, then nodded. “Yeah.”
“What did he tell you?”
Her gaze slid off. “Everything I needed to know.”
“And?”
Her exhale carried exhaustion. “Nothing else. I don’t want to talk about it.”
My jaw tightened. She sank herself into me deeper than I liked, deeper than I could ignore.
She didn’t want to talk, so I let the silence take its seat again. Perhaps she needed space to think or to immerse herself in her own thoughts. Men like me didn’t brood. We bled the weight out by killing or hunting.
The rest of the drive dragged until we pulled into the territory. I had files waiting, work stacked from Florida to New York. Taking those cities meant more work, but also more power.
Alessia unbuckled her seatbelt. “I’ll be in the ladies’ quarters.”
“Go to the east wing.”
“No. I want to do something with Clara. It helps clear my mind.”
Her eyes always betrayed her. Her warm hazel eyes dimmed whenever she lied. The light in them shut off. I couldn’t tell if she was lying about Clara or the part where she would clear her mind.
“Alright.” The word left me flat. She was gone in an instant, cutting across the pavement toward the back entrance. I watched until she disappeared. She was becoming a problem I couldn’t shake off, and didn’t want to.
My phone buzzed as I stepped out of the car. I pulled it from the pocket, standing by the door. It was a message from Dorothy:
I hit the call, and she answered.
“Send me the details once you have everything,” I said.
“Yes, boss.”
I hung up and slid the phone back into my pocket. That was another moving piece in my favour.
The evening blurred under paperwork and calls until the clock read close to three in the morning. I could’ve worked through dawn, but it struck me that I hadn’t seen Alessia once since she walked away. I headed to my quarters, half-hoping she’d be waiting in my bed. She wasn’t.
I stood there, staring at the space, wondering if the girls she ran to were therapists. Or if they gave her something, I couldn’t. Worse than that? I wanted to give her what she wanted. That was the part I didn’t know how to stomach.
What the hell did women want? I didn’t understand them, not in the way that mattered. They were fragile, emotional, and always carrying storms I couldn’t read.
I sat on the edge of the bed, phone in hand, and typed the question into Google. What do women want?
The answers stared back at me: emotional connection, support, communication, respect, understanding.
I tossed the phone onto the mattress. The list was bullshit, contradictory. If she wanted space, then giving it was a sign of respect and understanding. But if I gave her space, how was that supposed to foster an emotional connection?
By morning, the house stirred. Relatives moved around in black clothes, preparing for Renat’s burial.
None of it touched me. I had buried more men than I cared to count, and Renat was just another to add to the ground.
My time was better spent where it mattered.
The shipment that Salva and Marco sabotaged a while ago demanded my attention.
While they prayed over the dead, I drove off to the docks.
My men had already arrived. I checked manifests against what was delivered, questioned the foreman, and sent some of my men to remind our buyers that delays didn’t excuse late payments.
A few crates had gone missing, with Salva and Marco’s fingerprints still on the mess.
But by the time I was done, the books were balanced, and the cargo was moving again.
I left the docks and headed for the casino.
I kept my mind on numbers and routes, but somewhere between all that, Alessia crossed my mind.
Giving her space and pretending I didn’t care felt like its own lie.
Was she still trying to swallow the idea of having a brother?
Had she made peace with it, or was she still drowning in it?
I grabbed my phone and called her. The call went through until it ended.
She didn’t answer. The soldier I had assigned to watch her reported nothing either, so she was fine.
The work at the casino primarily focused on cash flow. When the work was finally done, the day had already burned itself out. I returned to the territory, where it was buzzing with preparation for the final dinner. Renat was buried, or whatever they did with him.
I cleaned up and went to the main hall for dinner. The room carried whispers as if we gathered for wine-tasting instead of ruling over a blood-soaked empire. I took my place at the head of the table while examining everyone.
Roman didn’t bother to show up again. He came because I had gutted his business and taken over.
Dmitri stayed hidden, leaving Grandmother here to play as his eyes and ears.
My gaze shifted to her. She sat among her cousins and old men I had never cared for.
She always stirred up a conversation to keep them busy.
The door opened, and servers slipped inside, balancing food trays in their hands. Alessia was among them, her head lowered. She blended with the others, but my eyes caught her. She carefully moved as if someone would snap at her any second.
I leaned back in my chair, glass in hand, watching her set bowls in front of the guests. She was careful enough to be invisible.
A laugh split the air. Cousin Vadik, swollen with cheap vodka, grinned wide enough to show the few teeth he still had. He slurred something in Russian before switching to jagged English. “Hey, you. Come here!”
It took a moment to realize he meant Alessia. She obeyed and rushed to his side.
He rambled, complaining that the soup was cold, or too bland, or both. Alessia kept her tone polite. “Yes, of course,” she said, and turned to go.
My voice cut through the room. “What was that?”
They all stilled, forks hovering above their plates. Alessia froze mid-step, the tray balanced in her hands. For the first time, her eyes lifted and found mine.
So she could look at me.
Vadik’s laugh cracked, thin and nervous. “It’s nothing. I only said the soup is a bit cold, that’s all.”
My gaze stayed on Alessia. She tried to remain composed, shoulders tight, but I saw through the fear. “You’ve been avoiding me.”
Her eyes widened, ready to conjure an excuse. And I realized what I was doing. I let the obsession bleed through in front of everyone. She made me lose control. I had told myself she needed space, but the truth pressed in on me now. I couldn’t give her any.
Grandmother cleared her throat to ease the tension. “Perhaps we should—”
“I’m still talking to her.” My voice cut across the table.
Alessia bit her lip hard enough to leave a mark. She hated being caught in the center like this. “I’ll go warm the soup.” She murmured.
“The hell you will.” I tilted my head. “You’re not his maid, are you?”
Vadik tried for another laugh. “Come on now, cousin, let her serve. She is—”
His voice crawled under my skin, and my patience snapped. I drew the gun and put a bullet through his head before he could finish. The crack tore through the hall, loud, and his body slumped in the chair. For a second, no one moved. Then the room erupted, the chairs scraping back.
Alessia’s tray slipped from her hands and crashed to the floor. She stood frozen, eyes wide on me.
“Anyone else whose tongue itches to be silenced?” My voice thundered across the hall. “Go on. Test me.”
I let the silence stretch, daring anyone to so much as breathe wrong. My point was carved deep into the room. When no one moved, I lowered the gun and turned to Alessia. “Come here.”
She didn’t move at first, uncertainty pinning her in place.
When did I become the kind of man who shows someone off? The thought burned as I pushed to my feet.
I turned to the uncle seated beside me. “Move.”
He slid out without a word.
Alessia arrived, and I dragged the chair back, locking my eyes on hers. “Sit.”
She looked at me like I’d lost my mind. Maybe I had. Still, she lowered herself into the chair.
The anger in my chest didn’t settle. I couldn’t even decide what enraged me the most. Her, for ignoring me. Vadik, for treating her like a servant. Or myself, for letting any of it show.
Alessia folded her hands on her lap, shaking, and her eyes lowered.
She didn’t belong at this table, yet she felt more present than anyone here.
That has always been true. And the longer I looked at her, the more I understood why I was burning with anger.
She was the only one who never ran when I bared my worst.
She never recoiled when she saw me sick and broken.
Her chaos infuriated me, but it cut through the rot.
Even when Renat kept her chained, she never gave me up.
Not once. She had every reason to. By all logic, she should have.
Despite that, she didn’t. That made her belong more than anyone tied to me by blood.
My hand settled over hers. She didn’t pull away. Her eyes lifted, not to me, but to where Vadik’s body sagged lifeless in the chair. Around us, the room emptied in a rush of silence. Everyone slipped out with their heads low and mouths sealed tight.
“Now, Alessia. Tell me what the fuck is going on.”