45. Countdown
Countdown
“No, only roses,” Liv said, her green eyes glassy and hollow as she scanned the funeral director’s brochure of flower arrangements placed in front of us. “And lilies. Those were his favourite.”
“Of course,” Signor Macilio offered a kind smile, which went unnoticed. “And I understand you wish Giovanni to be buried in the family crypt.”
“Next to his papi. Yes. That’s what he wanted,” Liv said, almost mechanically.
I reached for her hand and squeezed it, proud of how well she was holding it together for this meeting.
But that was Olivia. She felt she had to be strong for everyone else.
For Lili and Raff. For Sani and me. She was the glue that held us together.
If she fell apart, what hope did the rest of us have?
That’s what I knew she was thinking. But that wasn’t fair.
She shouldn’t have to cry alone in her bedroom, hiding her heartbreak from the world.
The last few days had been the hardest this family had endured in a long time.
Probably since my papi died, though I was too young to remember it.
The house was plagued by sorrow and grief; sometimes it felt so suffocating that I couldn’t breathe inside it.
So Maddox and I spent a lot of time in the garden with Mamma.
We had to wait until she was lucid enough to break the news to her.
She hadn’t taken it well, as expected, but she became so hysterical and upset that we worried for her safety.
In the end, the nurse had to give her a small sedative to calm her down.
Since then, she hasn’t remembered us telling her.
Aria said that dementia patients at the hospital rarely retain recent events, even when they are lucid, so we’ve made the tough decision as a family not to tell her again.
It would only be a vicious, cruel cycle to put her through.
No mother should outlive their child. Especially not relive the pain of losing them repeatedly.
“And the ceremony, would you prefer to have it inside the church or outside in the cemetery?”
“Outside.” She swallowed and licked her dry, chapped lips.
“Okay,” Macilio said, taking each of us in. “I think that’s everything covered for now. Do you have questions?”
When Liv didn’t respond, just staring blankly at the mock-up of the funeral programme, I shook my head on her behalf. He stood up, packing away his files and brochures. “Again, I am truly sorry for your loss.”
“Grazie.” Elenora stood to walk him out of the living room just as Raffaele bulldozed through the door, nearly knocking the old man over.
My nephew had been a hurricane of rage and violence since we lost Gio.
It was how he survived the pain, not slowing down enough to truly grieve.
The heartbreaking irony was that Gio had been the same way when we lost our papi.
There was so much of my brother in Raff.
“Raff!” Elle scolded, but he’d already marched past her towards me, Liv and Lili, who were all sitting on the sofa.
“When were you going to tell me?”
“I’ll be right back,” Elle said, helping Macilio out the door. She disappeared, and we all stared up at Raffaele’s thunderous face.
“Aleksandr is here to discuss the wedding? Lili is not marrying that Russian stronzo!”
“Raff—” Lili started, but he didn’t let her get a word in.
“I am the heir to the Del Brenta. I will be the Boss of this family, and I will not allow my sister to be shipped off to Russia to become some Bratva’s whore!”
“Raffaele!” Olivia snapped, her eyes burning with angry tears. “Watch your tongue!”
“It’s the truth!” he argued. “Aleksandr needs a bride to give him an heir so he can take over from his father. Russian tradition. He isn’t marrying her for any other reason than that. She wasn’t even his first choice! Imagine how he will treat her! And you’re okay with that, Mamma?”
“Of course I am not okay with it,” Liv hissed. “But what other choice do we have?”
“War!” Raff said, hands on his hips. The healing cuts on his face were already showing the scars they would leave as his face twisted with rage. “Fuck the Russians. We will go to war.”
“And lose more of the people we love?” Elenora interrupted, waltzing back into the room. “Raff, you are seventeen. You have no idea what going to war with the Bratva will cost this family. Giovanni did not lose his life so we could all join him. He would have prevented war at all costs.”
“Papi would never have agreed to sell his daughter to the Russians!”
“No one is selling me to anyone,” Lili argued. “Raya was willing to enter into an arranged marriage to protect this family, and everyone agreed. Now I am taking her place.”
“Raya is twenty-nine, and it was her idea! You’re twenty-three, Lili!”
“What has age got to do with it?” Lili argued. “I still know my own mind.”
“Aleksandr is ten years older than you. He’ll want to get you pregnant immediately! Is that what you want? To be his breeding mare!”
Lili’s cheeks blushed and she looked down at the floor. “It doesn’t matter what I want.”
Guilt tugged at my chest. This was never supposed to fall on her shoulders. But like everyone else, I felt helpless to stop it.
“I am the heir. My word is final and I say my sister is not marrying him.”
“Raff, I love you, but no,” Elle said, looking at him sympathetically.
“Your word is not final. You are the heir, but until you come of age and prove you are ready to take on the responsibility of leading this family, Alessio will not title you as Boss. Santino is the Boss until then, and he has agreed to the marriage.”
“Mamma?” Raff threw his hands out at his sides, looking to her for support. Liv stood up and exhaled a long breath that showed the level of stress her body was under.
“Elle is right, darling. The decision has already been made. I’m sorry, but you aren’t ready to be in charge.”
The fury in Raff’s eyes as he scanned each of our faces was murderous. He stormed out of the room, his fists clenched tight, and headed for the front door. We all knew exactly where he was going. Sean and Oscar had been in the cells beneath my family’s estate since the attack.
Maddox hadn’t even attempted to go down there. He said being there for me right now was more important. But that didn’t mean Sean and Oscar weren’t suffering horrifically. Maddox agreed to let all my family torture them daily. Raffaele and Santino were making the most of the offer.
Elle sighed. “I’ll let Max know he’s gone to the cells. Liv, shall we walk around the gardens and get some fresh air?”
“Sure,” Liv answered robotically. Lili and I hugged her before they left.
“I’m so worried about leaving her,” Lili said, fighting back a fresh wave of tears as she sank back onto the sofa. “What if Aleksandr demands the wedding is this week?”
“Santino and Alessio will not allow that to happen,” I reassured her as she bit her bottom lip. “And Elle and I will make sure Liv is okay. We are all grieving Gio, but she is our priority now. But I’m worried about you, too.”
“I’ll be okay,” she said, her voice weak and small.
My chest tightened. She was a twenty-three-year-old woman who had never been away from her family and had just lost her father.
Now she was expected to marry a stranger and move to another country.
I hated this for her as much as I had hated it for myself.
“You don’t have to be okay,” I said, ducking my head to make her look at me. “You don’t have to put on a brave face for anyone.”
She huffed and wiped a stray tear from her cheek. “I know. But I’m a Buccini. So I will.”
I smiled. “I admire you, Lili. So fucking much. You are my role model.”
She gave a small laugh at me for using her words against her. Then sighed. “I guess I should show my face to my alpha-hole fiancé.”
We made our way to the meeting room, where Alessio, Santino, Maddox and Aleksandr were already deep in discussion about how to divide Sean’s empire among them.
Maddox had made one thing abundantly clear. He didn’t want any of Sean’s illegal business. All he wanted was what Sean had stolen from his family. The rest would be sold to other allied Irish mafia families or split between the Russians and us.
Maddox didn’t bother pulling out the chair beside him. Instead, he slid his chair back from the table and pulled me onto his lap. I felt the stress and tension in my body melt as he wrapped his arms around me and rested his chin on my shoulder. He was my safe place. My respite.
Across the table, Aleksandr silently stood and pulled out a chair beside him for Lili.
She avoided looking at him directly as she dragged it a foot away and sat down.
Her hostility towards her soon-to-be husband couldn’t be mistaken for anything else, but not even a flicker of irritation crossed his face.
Nothing seemed capable of penetrating that man’s composure. He was the human embodiment of cement.
“Let’s talk finances,” Alessio said, sliding some contacts into the centre of the table. “Max and Fabi have gone through Sean’s assets. Once we’ve cleared the debts, business expenses and outstanding payments, we have forty-three million euros to shift.”
He glanced at Maddox.
“Based on what Sean stole from your family, we’ve estimated that twelve million belonged to the Moriartys, plus your family’s land.”
Maddox turned to stone behind me.
“That goes back to you. The remaining thirty-one million is split four ways between the Barbieris, Buccinis, Rokslovs and Moriarty. That’s seven million, seven hundred and fifty thousand each, with nineteen million, seven hundred and fifty thousand to the Moriarty name.”
He looked around the table. “Everyone in agreement?”
“Agreed,” Santino said, keeping his head bowed and staring at the figures. Grief affected everyone differently. Sani had lost his sparkle. I knew he’d get it back one day, but for now he just seemed… flat.
“Da.”
They all lifted their heads to look at Maddox, even though he hadn’t said anything.
I turned in his lap to glance at his face.
He’d gone very pale. Of course, we were all used to discussing such huge sums of money; we were raised with it, but Maddox…
he hadn’t had a penny to his name since he was twelve years old.
“Maddox?” I whispered, pulling his attention to me. He blinked slowly. “Say you agree.”
He gulped. The word scraped out of his throat. “A-agreed.” I smiled, knowing he planned to share half with his sister. Riley had no idea her life was about to change forever.
“Okay,” Alessio huffed, his eyes narrowing in annoyance at Aleksandr. “Let’s move on to the wedding.”
“I have spoken to the Pakhan,” Aleksandr said, twisting his cufflink in his sleeve with meticulous precision. “We have agreed that the wedding can wait until after the funeral.”
“How very generous of you both,” Sani mumbled under his breath. Aleksandr ignored the remark.
“When is the funeral?”
Alessio replied, “We’ve had the vigil. The funeral is in two days.”
Aleksandr turned his attention to Lili. She very obviously continued looking anywhere but at him.
“And how long do you need to grieve?”
Lili’s eyes widened, giving me a ‘is this man genuinely asking me to schedule my grief?’ look. I bit the inside of my cheek as she plastered on a false smile and turned to him.
“I don’t know,” she replied with manufactured sweetness, meeting his navy eyes. “How long do you deem acceptable for a daughter to mourn her father?”
He studied her without answering, keeping us all waiting.
“If you’re asking about Italian tradition,” Alessio said. “The mourning period is forty days.”
Aleksandr gave a thoughtful hum but hadn’t taken his eyes off Lili.
They seemed locked in a staring contest neither was willing to back down from.
It dawned on me that Lili was far braver than anyone gave her credit for.
Relief flooded through me that she might just be able to handle herself in Russia.
But it was Aleksandr who worried me. He was clearly calculated and smart, but lethal too.
Dangerous to be on the wrong side of. Lili shouldn’t push him too far.
“So unless you want me to wear black to the wedding,” she argued, arching a neat eyebrow. “The wedding will have to wait.”
“Black is my favourite colour.”
Her eyes narrowed. “How predictable.”
“So we’re in agreement? Forty days?” Alessio tried to ease the tension between them, but it was pointless. We might as well have cleared the room and left them to this battle.
“It’s already been four days, so that’s thirty-six days. I will plan the ceremony for day thirty-seven,” Aleksandr stated.
Lili let out a disbelieving laugh. “Wow. How considerate.”
“I thought so.”
“You clearly don’t understand how grief works.”
Aleksandr shifted in his chair, turned to face her, and rested one hand on the back of her chair and the other on the table in front of her. She froze at the sudden proximity he’d created, though he wasn’t touching her.
“I know exactly how it works,” he husked, his voice remaining frustratingly calm. “You’ll still miss him on day thirty-seven. You’ll miss him on day three hundred and sixty-seven.”
We all stared at them, hanging on Aleksandr’s every word, because somehow, when he spoke, you couldn’t help but listen.
“You’ll miss him when you are seventy.” He tilted his head slightly, those assessing eyes sweeping over her pretty face and fluttering eyelashes. She looked like a startled butterfly caught in his net. “So if you are waiting until it stops hurting, we will never get married, Kotyonok.”
Lili opened her mouth. Then closed it again.
She had no response. She shot up from her chair and stormed out of the room.
“They want to fuck each other,” Maddox whispered in my ear. I gasped and shot him a glare that made him smirk behind his hand. “Rather her than you. I’ll let him live now.”
Honestly, this man.