Chapter 66
Me
Meet you at Posol'stv. I need a night away. For good this time. I promise it won’t be like last time.
Anastasia
I’m hesitant to believe that. Besides, it’s not Friday. And you’re no longer you.
Me
Wish I knew what that meant, but just meet me.
Anastasia
Only if we go before opening.
Me
Business there?
Anastasia
Yes.
That’s how I find myself sitting in the VIP section of Posol'stv , waiting for Anastasia. While the club isn’t Bratva-owned, the owners are more than happy to let me in whenever I want. As staff flit around, preparing for opening within a couple hours, I’m nursing a rum and coke.
Light streams through when the main entrance door opens and a murmured voice tells me Anastasia’s arrived. Her steps quickly pound up the staircase before she drops in the low seating across from me and waves away the bartender, who holds up a glass, silently offering her a drink. She crosses one leg over the other and leans back into the deep, recessed-styled chair, her elbow propping onto the backing.
She’s not dressed to be at a club. Her workout leggings and a sports bra are the complete opposite, suggesting she recently came from the gym. When she’s not in her studio practicing ballet, she’s often at the gym, toning her body. Her blonde hair is wrapped up in a messy bun, and her skin looks dewy from her recent workout.
“When’s your next show?” I ask before she can speak. It’s been an unfortunate length of time since I’ve last come to one, usually caught up in my own business and chasing Boris, all of which is done now.
“Few weeks,” she replies.
“I know you said you have business here, but this is how you’re dressing for the night?” I gesture to her outfit of choice.
Anastasia rolls her eyes and drops her legs, leaning forward to pin an intense glare on me. “Van, you’re my business.”
Annoyance brings my drink to my mouth again, swallowing a large chug before replying. “If this is about Ze?—”
“This is about the fact you wanted to come here tonight, on the same day Zeno’s in town.”
“He shouldn’t even be in town, but someone let him walk right through the front door.”
“I’m not apologizing for that. You two need to figure your shit out because you’re avoiding.”
“Avoiding?” Annoyance drips through the word, and I lean forward, slamming the glass on the low table between us. “All I want is for it to be over.”
“Do you?” A thin brow ticks up. “Or do you think that’s what you want?”
Um— “I don’t want to be?—”
“Married,” she cuts me off. “We’re all aware, Zeno included. But do you want him?”
Heat consumes my face at such a temperature, I’d kill to have winter winds blow through the doors, regardless of it being August.
After a full minute passes, Anastasia sits straight again. “You’ve made my point.”
“No,” I rush to reply, rubbing a hand over my mouth as I try to get my shit together, “I was thinking. Zeno held us all at gunpoint and kidnapped me, and now you’re on his side?”
“I also haven’t forgotten that you had him in the exact same position and didn’t shoot either.”
“His sister was there. Not wanting someone dead and wanting them is very different.”
“Your father did a number on you. Admit it.” Her voice cracks down a few levels, her mouth bending downwards in a small frown as she leans forward.
Her abrupt change of focus momentarily throws me and I have nothing to say.
“Your family sucks, we both know it. They made trusting others hard.”
Why does this sound strangely like the conversation I had with Zeno?
“You’re people. You and your brother.”
Amusement slides from her face. “You know what I mean. Zeno’s asking for trust, but you don’t know how to give it.”
“He lied to me.” My loud emphasis is met with a surprised glance from the bartender, reminding me this conversation isn’t exactly private. “He’s forced me into a marriage I don’t want. What I don’t understand is why it feels like everyone’s pushing me to accept him!”
“Because you’ve been better since you got back from Italy!” She shouts, a redness tainting her cheeks. After a pause, she adds, “Happier. For the first time in years, we’ve been seeing a light in your eyes that isn’t dimmed by your hunt for Boris, your attempts to uphold your father’s standards, or any of the other million things flying through your head at any given time. There’s a spark in you. You two have some weird-ass friendship that somehow works, but a part of you doesn’t know how to open up.”
“I don’t have to open up because I don’t want a relationship. The Bratva needs me.”
“The Bratva is fine,” she snaps back. “More than fine. Van, you’ve done fucking amazing since your papa’s death, so it’s okay to find happiness.”
Happiness with the one person who lied and tricked me? Who’s already said I’d be a figurehead while he controls both organizations. Yeah, that’s likely.
Anastasia sighs before lifting to her feet and gazing down at me. “Don’t let your father control your life more than he already has.”
The door opens downstairs. Probably more staff arriving and they’ve provided a perfect excuse for this conversation to end and for me to get another drink. By the time I return to the couch, the bartender’s exiting the section.
“Right on time,” Anastasia murmurs, staring at the stairs even after he’s disappeared.
Zeno appears at the top of the stairs, his gaze locked on me as Anastasia continues talking through her betrayal.
“Figure it out, you two. You’re not leaving here ‘til you do.” She all but skips down the steps, ignoring me as I shout her name, lurching from the couch to stop her from leaving. “Either divorce or stay together, but the cat and mouse games need to end.”
“Suka!”
She chortles at the bitch comment and the door downstairs slams shut. It echoes the very rage that slams through me as I spin around, catching Zeno reaching over the bar for the nearest bottle of alcohol. The clanging the glass makes against the wood ricochets around the club—the empty club. At some point, everyone left.
Fucking Ana.
Zeno strides back with the bottle of liquor and drops into Anastasia’s abandoned seat, taking a large swig as he waits for me to retake my seat. I do, slowly, and with heavy regrets that I never killed him when given the opportunity.
“You don’t understand the word no .”
“Not when it comes to you.” He grins around the bottle, but then a strange look comes over him, and his amusement is replaced by a shadow. “Truce. Have a drink with me and let’s be civil. We’ve managed to do that before. I quite enjoyed our run around my property.”
“One drink.” With a heavy huff, I reach toward my glass, my hands banding around it. Better it than his neck. “How did you get my Elite on your side?”
“Honestly, not sure. According to the text I got from Anastasia earlier, I think you’re more at fault than I am. She, and I quote, said she’s ‘done seeing you suffer.’”
I scowl, downing the drink in one go, welcoming the burn. After I kill Zeno, Anastasia’s next. What’s worse, is she’s forced me into this situation in the very place Zeno and I first met. There’s no parallels, though. Only a full circle coming to a close.
“You’re free to leave.” He gestures to the staircase, and somehow, I highly doubt I am.
“Not until you go first.”
“After we drink.” He stretches toward my empty glass, keeping his eyes on me while he pours. “Then I’ll leave.”
“I don’t understand why you’re here.”
Silently, he reaches into his pocket and retrieves that blasted black ring box from earlier. He tosses it onto the table beside my glass, which I quickly swipe away and lean against the two-seater leather couch.
“Is it me or marriage you’re avoiding?”
It’s what you represent. “Both.”
My answer seems not to affect him whatsoever based on his blank expression and half shrug. “Because I lied to you, so you don’t trust me.”
“Is there any other reason I’d need?”
“You’re scared to get close to anyone.”
God, what is it with people? “It’s like you all took the same fucking psychology course.” My teeth slide painfully together.
“Is it a lie? You lived with your father, your uncle, and you worry about a repeat situation.”
“You stated as much,” I say in a flat tone. “That you’d control both while I sit back and do nothing. Which is why everything you said to me at the bar earlier was a lie.”
He looks down at his feet, speaking to them rather than me. “I’ve watched you for years. Saw your beauty within pictures and from afar, but it wasn’t until meeting you that I realized how fucking wrong I was.” His eyes flash up, unpeeling me inch by inch as he continues. “Because you’re more than just a pretty face, Volkov. Down there...” He gestures to the dance floor behind and beneath us. “I realized how dangerous you were, and how focused I’d have to be for this takedown to work. You exuded confidence. You flourished with temptation like a rose I wanted to pluck, even when your thorns would slice my hand. The pain I’d receive would be worth it to get a kiss from you.”
“Poetic.” And another lie because my thorns meant nothing to him when he planned on stripping them and discarding the dead flower I’d then be.
“From the moment you approached me, you broke me. I found myself wanting to know you for all the reasons I shouldn’t.”
“It’s called lust.” Bringing my glass to my mouth, I force a sip to hide my shaky hand.
“Maybe, because after that initial taste, it was impossible to remember who you were. Who your family is, and why I couldn’t keep you as mine, even when every fibre of my being begged me to. You and I were generals in the war who inherited the battle plans from our fathers. Maybe that’s why I fucked up that night. Why I missed. When you were in my house, the lines began to blur.”
Blurred lines along with blurred morals.
“What are you saying?” My mind races and slows all at the same time. My heart pounds while stuttering silent. I’m cold and hot. Stuck between wanting to run away and stay right here.
“I’m saying there’s a reason I kissed you the day you risked your life all to test the possibility of freedom. Why every day for the past month, I can’t stop thinking about you.”
Blood rushes through my body at an alarming rate, like every part of me wants to meet Zeno halfway and accept what he’s saying. I can’t, though. It’s not in my plans. Opening myself up to be hurt again.
I…I don’t know how to do this.
Zeno stares.
I look away.
He takes my silence as he should—and my heart shatters knowing he does.
Pain flits across his expression, but then he nods once, swallowing his heartbreak through a large swig from his glass, downing the drink in one go with very little sign it’s affected him.
“Game’s up, Volkov, and I lost. I see that now. I’ll return to Italy and you’ll never hear from me again. I’ll get my lawyers to draw up a divorce agreement.”
Still not looking at me, he stands, brushing a hand down his shirt, and I find myself craving his gaze. Needing his emerald eyes on me just one more time. When he takes a step away, my stomach lurches. It makes little sense, considering this is all I’ve wanted since he tossed the marriage certificate my way.
He believes the game is up. I think every piece hasn’t been moved across the board yet.
There’s no victor. We’re tied.
He takes another step. Another lurch of my stomach. I lean forward, prepared to follow him, even when my mind keeps me down. When uncertainty makes my limbs heavy.
“You concede so easily,” I taunt, unsure what else to say.
He glances over his shoulder. “I know when I’ve lost.”
“What about your vengeance against Papa?”
“At this point, I’m fighting fate, and honestly, I don’t want to fight you anymore. It’s not fair. You’re a kickass leader, Vanessa, and you deserve to rule the Bratva how you see fit and not be a decoration on anyone else’s throne. No man will ever be worthy of you, myself included.
Like he hasn’t just shattered me utterly and completely, he strides away.
He’s leaving.
He’s leaving me .
How many times have I ordered him to go home today, and now that he is…I don’t want him to. It makes no sense. All I know is I need him a bit longer.
But I have to let him go. It’s best for us both. After all the battles, I’ve conquered the war. Zeno Mancini will disappear from my life forever.
Yet, my stomach heaves as he takes his first step down the stairs.
I scramble to stand when he takes his second.
I speak when he’s on the third.
“Zeno.”