11. Enzo
ENZO
“I’ve seen you looking better,” Bianca says as she sits down on the couch opposite me in my apartment. Her eyes narrow, appraising and clearly finding me lacking. Her gaze slides in the direction of the brandy glass on the coffee table. “That won’t help.”
“Thanks for the advice.”
I sit forward, reaching for the decanter to refill my drink, but she snatches it away and takes it to the kitchen where I hear her emptying the dregs down the sink.
“I can get more,” I raise my voice so she can hear above the rustling of the coffee packet as she switches on the machine.
“Go right ahead. I already told your PA not to let any more liquor into this apartment.”
She rummages in the cupboards for ingredients, and I hear her pulling pans out of the drawer.
The swelling on her face has reduced enough that she looks more herself again despite the gaunt cheeks and the bruises slowly fading to a dirty shade of green, and she’s more serene than I remember seeing her in a long while.
Too long.
I haul myself off the couch where I’ve been since I stumbled home in the early hours of the morning, flinching at the imprint of my body left behind on the plump cushions. I cross the room, swaying when it lurches out from under me, and practically fall onto a chrome stool at the breakfast bar.
“What are you doing?” I watch her fill a tall tumbler with ice and bottled water from the fridge and set it down in front of me. I don’t wait to be told to drink. I guzzle it down in one go, wiping my lips with the back of my hand when I’m done.
Bianca refills the glass and slides it back across the counter to me. “Take this one slowly or you’ll be sick.” She sounds like our mom.
It’s on the tip of my tongue to make my observation out loud, but my brain isn’t so fried I don’t understand what it will do to her.
She hasn’t seen or spoken to her kids in two years, and yeah, it was her choice, but Bianca was a good mom to Leo and Sofia, and you don’t stop being a mom because you make bad choices.
While she waits for the coffee to brew, she heats some butter in a deep pan, chops up a couple of onions, and scrapes them into the sizzling butter.
She crushes some garlic and adds that to the pan along with some herbs, then goes back to the coffee machine and fills two cups with steaming black liquid.
She adds a spoonful of brown sugar to each and hands one to me.
I inhale the caffeine first before taking a sip.
Bianca cooks methodically, adding crushed tomatoes and red wine to the sauce, and tasting it before she leaves it to simmer on the stove while she prepares the pasta.
When Demi was here, we would cook together most evenings. My fondest memories are of the two of us getting under each other’s feet and drinking wine from each other’s glass while old Barbra Streisand and Frank Sinatra albums played through the sound system.
I thought that was forever.
How fucking wrong can one man be?
When the meal is bubbling along to its own tune on the stove, Bianca pulls out a stool and sits down next to me with her coffee.
She doesn’t even pour herself a glass of wine.
Maybe it’s torture for her, not having a drink while she’s trying to set an example.
Or maybe she has turned a corner and wants to do better, starting with cutting out the booze.
Who knows. My sister would make a great case study for psychiatrists.
“What did you find out?” I open the conversation.
When she found me passed out on the couch this morning, she gave me sweetened black coffee and dragged me into the shower, then made me sit back down and tell her everything.
Which I did.
Including the game I started with Nyx. Strange how I couldn’t face telling Gio what’s going on, but I’ll happily discuss with my sister, sitting in the dark and listening to a stranger in a mask making herself come.
I guess Gio, as the eldest son and heir to the Sabatelli legacy, was always set apart from the daughter and the youngest son.
The untouchable one. Winner takes all. And the dynamics remain the same even now.
I don’t know where Bianca went today, I don’t even want to know, but when I asked for her help, she didn’t hesitate.
“You were right,” she says. “JADED is owned by Bratva. The Malevsky family. Seems they’re expanding while the whole world’s attention has been sucked into a political maelstrom, and this club is only the beginning.
Despite what you told me, invitations are not distributed randomly.
You were clearly on some kind of list, Enzo. ”
Makes sense. The woman in the bar. I think I know what you’re looking for.
It feels like a lifetime ago, but my suspicion that the club’s clientele is targeted for a reason was driven home when Ms. Flashlight suggested there was more on offer. If I wanted it. But why me?
“I’m the loose cannon.” I drag my hand across my jaw. “Gio has Megan and the twins; his life is settled since the war with Yevgeny Kuzmin and the Ivanovs, and everything he touches turns to gold.” I’m thinking out loud. “While I’ve been coasting as his underboss since Demi left.”
“And I don’t count,” Bianca adds, her words landing like mud spots on the counter.
“A fact that you have always used to your advantage, Bi.” I’m not pandering to her victim mentality today.
She smiles. “Luckily for you, I still have contacts in the city.”
“Contacts are only useful if they’re willing to talk.”
She nods. “The Bratva mobs are closing ranks. It’s only a matter of time before it all implodes, but it feels scary out there right now.”
Bianca shudders, and a tiny sliver of ice crawls down my spine.
My sister cultivates danger, scattering seeds everywhere she goes and feeding it with manure to ensure that it grows big and strong.
So, her concern hits me harder than being whammed by a metal bracelet and settles in my gut like sludge.
I refuse to let it show though. The Bratva thrives on fear; I should know, I’ve experienced it first-hand and managed to come out the other side unscathed.
But this isn’t about me. Everything I know about them points to the worst kind of criminal activity, the kind that involves innocent women and children, and I’ll be as complicit as them if I walk away now and get on with my life.
“I thought I saw…” Bianca shakes her head and swallows a mouthful of coffee. “Never mind.”
“You can’t plant that teaser in my head and then leave it there.” I know my sister. She wouldn’t mention it if it was insignificant, so whatever she thought she saw, she’s holding back for a reason.
“I thought I saw Gio in a casino, but I must’ve been mistaken.” She shrugs. “Probably manifesting him into my life.”
That’s not it. There’s something she’s not telling me, but I’m not going to push it.
“Did you know Stella was in town?” I ask instead.
She blinks hard, but otherwise, her face is impassive. “You still haven’t mastered the subtle art of deflection, Enzo.”
I smile. “Have you spoken to her?” I’m thinking about Bianca’s vanishing act inside the Wraith.
“Would you believe me if I said no?”
“Only if it’s true.”
She smiles, and her eyes fill with tears although I’m unsure if that’s because she misses Stella or if she’s still healing. “No. I still have some dignity.” She takes a deep breath. “Besides, she’s better off without me.”
My mind instinctively circles around to Demi. Is that what her brothers told her, that she’s better off without me? I’d have died every day for a thousand years if it meant keeping Demi safe… I only wish she’d believed me.
“Did you love her?” I reach across and cover Bianca’s hand with mine.
“Was that a deliberate use of past tense or a slip of the tongue? Yes, Enzo, I loved her. I still do. You don’t switch that kind of love off overnight, it stays with you, glowing in the dark when you open your eyes, and keeping you strong when the world lets you down.”
I nod. She couldn’t make that up if she wasn’t still aching every day of her life for Stella Marlow, and I don’t know what else to say.
“So, what will you do now?” she asks, demonstrating her own deflection technique.
“I have to go back. I need to make sure Nyx is safe.”
Bianca sips her coffee, elbows leaning on the counter like this is the way we spend our afternoons, sipping coffee and chatting about the fucking Bratva’s bid for world domination.
She inhales deeply and releases it slowly. “This was a warning, Enzo. Next time, you might not be so lucky.”
“Yeah, well, if I was chosen to get an invitation, the big boys have plans for me. I’d hate to disappoint them.”
Bianca’s hands tremble when she sets her cup down. “I think it’s time to grow up, baby brother. That attitude will only carry you so far. What happens when the Bratva decides you’ve outlived your purpose?”
“I’ll make sure they don’t get the opportunity.”
“Fuck’s sake, Enzo. You seriously believe Gio will dig you out of this hole when he finds out what’s going on?”
“No. You will.”
I rock up at JADED as usual a little after midnight.
I’ve no idea if I’ll be welcomed with a flashlight or a fucking taser, but I press the buzzer with a smile on my face and my chin jutting defiantly as if the night before was just an illusion, something that happened to someone else in another dimension.
Bianca said attitude will only get me so far. That’s fine by me. It literally only needs to get me through the door.
Not that I have a plan.
All I want to do is speak to Nyx, make sure she’s safe, and warn her somehow to get out if she can.
The door is buzzed open, and my confidence takes a little backstep.
Too easy doesn’t sit well with me. The Bratva didn’t get its reputation by giving the enemy options; it steamed in with a bunch of explosives yelling, “Come and get us, you bastards,” at the top of their lungs.
Still, I think of Nyx and enter the foyer. If I can save one life, it’ll be a starting point for the new me. The version of me navigating a future without Demi and managing to be a decent guy at the same time.