Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
Dante
My uncle Viktor had crossed the line completely.
That old bastard had openly challenged my authority this week. His men hijacked three of my weapon shipments at the Brooklyn docks. They stole what was mine and spat in the face of my power.
So yesterday I led the retaliation myself. We tore through their safe house, and I put bullets in traitors' skulls with my own hands.
But Viktor kept challenging my position as head of the Romanov family. The rift between us was beyond repair. What little patience I had for Viktor was gone. Now I just wanted to burn every one of his operations to the ground and rip his head off.
But the violence wasn't what was really eating at me.
Violence was simple. Someone betrays you, you shoot them. Someone steals from you, you take their hands. The rules were clear. No gray areas. And I always won.
What was really screwing with my head was the phone buzzing against my ribs. Over and over. Through my jacket, against my chest.
I'd lied to Natasha today.
I told her I'd been busy with work. That I absolutely hadn't seen Vera. That part was true.
But I'd been thinking about her. Constantly.
She'd been flooding my phone with voicemails and texts. I'd avoided every meeting, ignored every message, trying to stay loyal to Natasha.
But I couldn't stop myself from listening to those voice messages. Vera's voice, breaking with tears, scraped against my nerves.
"Dante, pick up. Please."
"I love you. I've only ever loved you."
She cried on those recordings. Begged me to forgive her. Told me how much she loved me.
And damn it, Vera had scrambled my head again. I'd been leaning toward Natasha. Her obedience, her occasional defiance, the way she looked at me with love in her eyes—it had been melting my defenses bit by bit.
But Vera's tears and confessions wrecked all of that.
I pulled into the underground garage beneath headquarters and stepped out, heading for the VIP elevator. The metal doors slid shut. The elevator climbed smoothly toward the top floor, numbers ticking upward on the display.
Either way, I couldn't betray Natasha. And compared to Vera, what mattered now was reasserting my authority. Teaching a bloody lesson to anyone who dared disrespect me. I needed to finalize a plan to take out Viktor's lieutenant.
That's what I should be focused on.
The hallway at the top was dim, just a few wall sconces casting weak yellow light. But as I approached my office, a sharp smell hit me.
High-proof vodka, mixed with floral and fruity notes—Vera's signature perfume.
I turned the corner and saw something absurd. Three of my armed guards stood outside my office door. They exchanged glances, their faces twisted with embarrassment and confusion. They had no idea what to do.
A woman was kneeling in front of my office.
Vera.
She looked wrecked. Her dress was filthy, wrinkled, bunched around her. Her usually perfect blonde hair hung in tangles over her shoulders. Black mascara had run down her pale cheeks in dark streaks.
And she was drunk. Reeking of alcohol.
The moment I got close, Vera's head snapped up. When her blue eyes locked on me, she scrambled forward on her hands and knees.
"Dante." She screamed my name, her voice raw and desperate.
I stood frozen, watching this woman who'd once been so proud and fierce now crawling at my feet without a shred of dignity.
A complicated irritation churned in my gut. Whatever else, Natasha was my wife now. The woman I loved.
I shouldn't have anything to do with the woman on the floor. It would only bring endless trouble. The smart move was to call Nikolai Kornilov and have him haul her away.
"Boss." One of the guards stepped forward. His voice was low. "Want us to pull her off?"
Vera heard him. Her whole body shook violently. She clung to my leg, screaming my name over and over in desperation.
"Dante, please. Don't send me away."
"Let go, Vera. We've got nothing to talk about." My voice was cold.
"I'm not going home." She shook her head frantically. Tears splattered on my pants. "I will not go back to that house. I didn't run because I don't love you. I ran because I loved you too much. You have to let me explain."
Her voice echoed in the empty hallway. She was sobbing so hard she could barely breathe. The guards awkwardly looked away. I tried to step back, tried to pull my leg free. But Vera held on with shocking strength. She wouldn't let go.
I looked down at her tear-streaked face. In the end, I didn't dial Nikolai.
I shoved the phone back in my pocket and looked up at my men.
"Have Dmitri move the meeting somewhere else." My order was cold. "You guys, get back to the elevators."
The guards nodded immediately and retreated, their heavy footsteps fading down the hall.
Only Vera and I remained.
I grabbed her arm and hauled her off the floor. Her legs buckled. She sagged against me, nearly dead weight. I half-carried her into the office and dumped her on the black leather couch in the sitting area.
Vera finally stopped screaming. She leaned back against the cushions, a weak smile breaking through her tear-stained face.
"Give me a good reason." I looked down at her. "Tell me why you ran."
Vera met my eyes, emboldened by the alcohol.
"I'm sick." She forced the words out. Then the tears came again. "I got my test results a few days before the wedding. The doctor told me I'm dying."
My brain blanked.
I'd spent days turning over every possibility. Vera fell for another man. She had some dirty secret.
Maybe she got cold feet. Maybe her family forced her into something else. Hell, I'd even wondered if Viktor bought her off to humiliate me.
But this? Never once had this crossed my mind.
Dying.
"What did you say?" I demanded.
"There's a tumor in my brain. Malignant." Vera covered her face with both hands. She shook with sobs, her voice muffled. "The doctor said it's late stage. I have a few months left."
I stared hard at her eyes, searching for lies. But all I saw was pure despair, fear, and the helplessness of facing death.
"I couldn't tell you." Vera dropped her hands and looked at me.
"How could I? You're the pakhan of New York.
You need a perfect wife. You need a woman who can give you heirs.
I couldn't be a burden. I didn't want you to watch me waste away.
I didn't want you to see me become so sick I couldn't take care of myself. "
She slid off the couch and knelt on the soft carpet.
"I did it to protect you. I chose to leave this way because I loved you. I wanted you to remember me at my most beautiful."
I stared at her, too shocked to speak. And then came the guilt. Guilt for all my ugly suspicions.
I thought I'd written her off completely.
I thought all I felt was rage over the betrayal and fury at the damage to my family's reputation.
But now, a sharp pain stabbed through my chest. Knowing this woman had carried the terror of death alone to spare me.
Had borne everyone's contempt alone. I didn't know how to face her.
I stood there, motionless, completely at a loss.
Vera took advantage of my stunned silence. She got up from the carpet and threw herself into my arms, locking her hands around my waist. She pressed her face against my chest, crying.
"But I overestimated myself." Vera sobbed into my shirt, her tears soaking through the fabric. "I thought I could face death calmly. But when I saw you marry Natasha, I fell apart."
Hearing Natasha's name snapped me out of my daze.
"I never thought you'd get married." Vera's voice turned sharp. Full of jealousy and pain. "I watched my sister put on my wedding dress. I watched her wear the ring you bought for me. My heart felt like it was dying. I was going insane with jealousy. Dante, that was my place. And she took it!"
She clutched my shirt, her emotions spiraling.
"Every night I imagine you touching her. I can't breathe from the jealousy. I hate her. I hate that she's healthy. I hate that she gets to sleep in your bed like it's her right. I can't take it anymore. I'm on the edge of losing my mind every single day."
Vera's body convulsed with crying. And still, I didn't push her away.
I slowly lifted my hands and placed them on her back. Vera really had gotten thinner.
We stood there in the quiet office, holding each other.
Vera looked up. Her tear-filled eyes pleaded with me. Her lips trembled.
"Dante, please." Her voice was barely a whisper.
"Can you give me one more chance? I don't want to die alone in a cold hospital bed.
I know you're married. I'm not asking you to divorce her.
I don't want anything. I just want to spend whatever time I have left with you. Let me stay by your side. Please."
I looked at her pale lips. My head was a mess.