Chapter 24
"You need to gather the men loyal to you. Not to your father. To you." I advise Stephano as soon as we're alone in Nico's room, where he is still out cold like Sleeping Beauty.
Stephano runs a hand through his hair.
"Your father is going to fight you," I warn.
Son or not, I saw the coldness in the old man's eyes.
He's one of those men who doesn’t care if the world around them collapses as long as they still stand.
He's already shown that he's willing to put his blood in harm's way; I'm sure he won't hesitate to have Stephano killed, and that thought…
disturbs me. I'm not ready to be a widow before we even say our vows.
Maybe I should be working on becoming his wife first. Just in case…
I don't have all the puzzle pieces yet; some lie scattered around, but I'm positive we'll find them, and when we do, I'm also positive the picture won't be pretty.
Not a peaceful landscape, but a bloody abstract.
If I were a different person, I would feel sorry for Stephano, but I'm not, so I do what I do best: strategize.
"He knew," Stephano ponders, still fighting disbelief.
"I know a thing or two about figuring out who your father really is," I admit.
And add something I've never told anyone; damn, this man is getting under my skin in ways I never thought possible.
"When I was a little girl, my Papa was my whole world.
He adored me; he called me his Moya devochka.
There was nothing he wouldn't do for me.
So when I was ten, I told him one day I would be one of his soldiers, maybe even his Silovik—enforcer.
" I grimace at the memory of a na?ve little girl wanting nothing but to please her papa.
"You know what he said?" I don't wait for Stephano to reply.
"He told me that he loved me, but that my only value to the Bratva lay between my legs.
That one day I'd be useful to him as a wife to someone he wanted to make an ally.
As far as soldiers were concerned, he had plenty and a son. "
Outrage and pain for me war in Stephano’s eyes with an understanding that can only be shared in our worlds, but I wave him off.
"That day, I lost all my illusions about my papa.
Da, he loved me, but he would still only do what was best for the Bratva; he would marry me to whoever offered the best deal.
So I decided to prove him wrong. And I did.
He still loved me after, and I still loved him, but it wasn't the same.
Never again did I look at him with the adoring eyes of a daughter, and he never again looked at me as a devoted father. "
I shrug. "I understand crossroads, Stephano. And you're at one now. You either become the man you were meant to be, or you stay your father's pawn."
Anger sparks in his eyes. Good. That's what I want. "I've never been his pawn."
I arch an eyebrow, purposefully goading him, "Da?"
He rubs the back of his neck. "I'll find which men are loyal to me, but Oksana, I don’t know if I can fight against my own family. Against loyal men."
I step forward, grab his lapels, and look him in the eye. "I know you can."
Determination sets in. He changes, right in front of my eyes.
From the moment I first saw him, I knew he was a force to be reckoned with, that he was his own man, but now he's turning into a capo, ruthless to the bone.
He will do whatever it takes to get to the bottom of the rot that has been haunting La Famiglia for decades, and it seems the Bratva too.
Neither of us knows who it is, but we have a common enemy, and we're going to fight him or her together. Even if they're only ghosts now.
"I have men; they're yours to use," I offer. An offer I've never made to anybody.
A slight smile tugs at the corners of his lips, "What about Grigori, doesn't he get a say in that?"
I shake my head, "Those are my men."
"Oksana," his voice is but a rasp as he realizes what I'm offering him. He stills. "Marry me."
I laugh because I did not see that one coming. "We're already married."
He shakes his head, "No, for real. I've been calling you wife for a little over a week now, and I very much want to do it for real."
Marriage?
The very thing I ran away from? The very thing I defied my father to avoid?
I look at Stephano, and what I see is that he values me for things other than what is between my legs. If things go south, I know how to become a widow. Quickly. But the funny thing is, I think I'd enjoy the title wife a lot more.
"Alright."
"Alright?" he checks as if he doesn’t trust his ears.
I nod, "Alright."
He bends forward and kisses me, so hard and hot, my knees actually go weak—and I don't do weak knees. It feels good to lean into him for support. There is no other man in this world I would ever show a weakness to. But he's earned that.
The sound of clapping hands startles us apart.
"Nice. Better than any romance movie I was ever forced to watch." Nico's voice is still hoarse, but his eyes sparkle with an electricity that is contagious.
"How long have you been awake?" Stephano asks, taking my hand and pulling me to the bed.
"Long enough to be sick." He exaggerates a gag.
"You know it's not polite to watch people," I scorn playfully.
There is something about Stephano's younger brother, something almost Russian about him, something that calls to me.
I feel protective of him, tender. Strange emotions that have never played a role in my life before.
I know loyalty. I know love, sure, both I have for Grigori, but this seems different, deeper.
"You know it's not polite to kiss in front of an unconscious man," Nico teases right back.
"Brat." I flip the toe that's hanging out from underneath the cover. He chuckles.
"Good to see you awake again," Stephano rubs Nico's shoulder. "How are you feeling?"
Nico goes straight to the point. "Where is Gustave?"
Gustave. Not father.
"He wanted to see you, but we made him understand he’d better wait until I talked to you." Stephano's expression is laced with concern.
"Give me a gun and send him in," Nico presses out with so much venom it even surprises me. And I've seen hate.
"What happened?" Stephano asks.
"What happened?" Nico runs his hand through his hair, looking so much like a younger version of Steph, it tugs at my heart. "He betrayed me, that's what happened."
"Alright, start from the beginning," I order, giving Nico’s big toe a squeeze that says no bullshit.
A nurse peeks in, takes one look at the three of us, mutters, later, and flees. Wise woman.
"He sent me to Don Silvestre officially to negotiate access to Venezuelan ports," Nico begins.
"Why the hell would he do that?" Stephano snaps. "We don’t need ports. We don’t run shipments."
"He said the Giordanos were getting too powerful with Porto Sangue," Nico replies. "That if they controlled it, they could choke our revenue streams. Raise prices. Force our hand."
Stephano glares. "Even then—we don’t need a fucking port."
Nico exhales. "That is why he sent me. Because I was too young, too eager, and too dumb to question him."
His eyes lift to Stephano, fury simmering there, but none of it meant for his brother.
"The port deal was a cover," Nico says. "What Gustave really wanted was proof. He suspected Don Silvestre and Donna Margarita were working together. That they were the ones who orchestrated Don Leonardo’s death.
He wanted evidence to expose them both, to weaken Edoardo before Margarita could ruin him. "
Even I suck in a breath. Donna Margarita playing puppeteer behind Edoardo's back was a dangerous game, but one I can absolutely imagine.
"I didn’t know any of this," Nico continues bitterly. "He just told me to keep my eyes open. I thought he was trusting me. That he finally saw me as more than your shadow, Steph."
"You were never just my shadow," Stephano murmurs.
Nico smiles, but looks soft and broken. "Maybe not. But at nineteen, it felt that way."
He continues. "I overheard a call between Silvestre and Donna Margarita. They sounded… coordinated. Too coordinated. Talking about leverage. Succession. Edoardo’s weaknesses. I thought I hit the jackpot. But instead, I stepped right into the trap."
My brows narrow. Even I didn’t see that coming. "What trap?"
Nico swallows. "Gustave didn’t just send me to watch Valverde. He staged a call—a fake one—something he knew Silvestre would intercept. A call hinting that the Contis had a spy inside Venezuela. That the spy—me—had found something that could expose Donna Margarita and topple their alliance."
The room goes still. Stephano turns deathly pale.
Nico’s voice drops. "It wasn’t a death order. Not exactly. It was a probe. A test. If Valverde and Margarita had nothing to hide, he’d just slap me around, toss me out, and kick me back to New York. But if they did have something to hide…"
"They’d kill you," I finish quietly.
Nico nods once. "Yeah. And that’s what Gustave was watching for. If they killed me, he’d have his proof. His outrage. His war. A Conti son murdered abroad? The Families would’ve united behind him—no questions asked."
Stephano’s throat works. His face turns gray.
Nico sighs. "Gustave wasn’t sure Valverde would kill me. That’s the part that stings. He didn’t know. He just… gambled. Sent me in as bait and waited to see what kind of monster snapped at me first."
I'm more shook than I like to admit, but I still catch something in Nico's eyes that tells me he’s withholding information, valuable information.
Before I can grab on to that thought and voice it, Nico continues.
"But Silvestre and Donna Margarita were smarter.
They hacked my phone. They heard everything.
They realized Gustave was playing them. And instead of killing me…
" His voice shakes. "…they kept me alive.
Because a living hostage gave them leverage. And Gustave—"