17. Chapter 13
Chapter 13
Nikolai
D arkness bleeds into the last light of the day as Aleksander and I stand in the mansion gardens at the foot of the old willow tree.
“Where did this start, Nikolai?”
“I went to a bar and saw her singing… Things went from there.”
"What bar?"
A light rain picks up, but neither of us moves.
"The Blue Moon. It's on the Cosa Nostra side of Righteous Cove. Near West Brink Bridge."
Thunder claps overhead, and the oncoming clouds obscure the moonlight.
“That’s it?”
“That’s it.” I lie. How can I tell him the rest? How can I tell any of them the truth about Isabella? Maybe Viktor, and even then, the thought of uttering those truths makes my skin crawl.
Aleksander shifts to under the shelter of the tree and lights up a cigarette, as soft water droplets drag down his angular features.
“Bad habit.” I say.
“Everything worth doing is a bad habit.” He growls with a puff of smoke before meeting my eyes. “She can’t stay. Adrienne bought you time, but I’m the Pakhan. This is too dangerous.”
“You heard my conditions already. If she goes, I go.”
Aleksander holds my gaze, the spark of his lighter dancing through the reflection in his pupils. He glances away, out into the total darkness of the gardens.
“I told Greyson to install lighting this week. What if Don Leonardo orchestrated an attack? We wouldn’t see them coming until they were already on our ground. Better to let the light reveal them before they’ve infiltrated.”
“What are you telling me, Alek?”
He blows out another cloud of smoke and pushes his wet hair out of his face. “Two foot soldiers went missing today. The day you, with an Italian princess on your arm, demand we shelter Don Leonardo's daughter. I don’t mean to drag up the past…”
“Then don’t.” I growl through gritted teeth.
The sound of rain on damp earth covers everything else. His stillness plays at my nerves because I know what he’s capable of.
“I was told it was Damon.” He spits after uttering that name.
Every muscle in my body tenses. The scars crawling from my neck to my hips sear like hot irons on tender flesh.
“Damon?” I whisper. “I thought he was dead.”
“Apparently not.”
“You’re sure it’s him?”
“Why do you think Viktor has been drinking so much? Why do you think he was fucking shouting at me when you walked in?”
I swallow down the tempest inside me, allowing it to come out in a cold, violent whisper.
“Where is he?”
Alek finishes his cigarette and tosses it into the wind. “I don’t know. It’s a rumour. One I knew would find you, eventually. I don’t want you or Viktor to be consumed by this. It’s probably hearsay. But it doesn’t change two dead men and Damon’s ghost dancing over them.” Aleksander steps out from the shelter of the willow tree, closing the distance between us. “I want to believe you brought that girl and all the problems she brings to my doorstep because you have a plan. But when two men go missing, while we’re on the verge of a war with her father, and you can’t give me a real reason, it doesn’t look good. I won’t live in the past, but I won’t forget it.”
“You owe me, Aleksander.” I snap, the gravel in my voice scratching my throat raw.
He glances up at the old willow, the image of us on that day undoubtedly playing through his head.
“I did what I could.” He says bitterly. Aleksander’s eyes are always cruel, but sometimes I wonder how often that cruelty reflects inward. “I need a guarantee.”
“Like what?”
“Right now, she is Isabella De Rossi. Daughter of my enemy. Make her Isabella Ilyin and she becomes the wife of my friend.”
“You want me to marry her?” I say, stunned. I’d be lying if I said the idea hasn’t crossed my mind, but how can I save her from one arranged marriage only to force her into another?
Aleksander nods. “Those are my conditions. Marry her and she can stay. Otherwise, I can’t trust this, no matter how much I want to.”
Aleksander pats my shoulder, squeezing before he pushes past me back to the mansion.
“Give me an answer by tomorrow evening.”