25. Chapter 21
Chapter 21
Isabella
A nton bounds out ahead of us, his tongue lolloping out of his mouth as he tries to swallow as much fresh air as possible. He runs around in circles, springing around like a kid on a trampoline.
“Is he always this excited?” I laugh.
Nikolai flashes a wry grin. “No, I think he’s just happy to have the extra attention. Usually it’s just me who walks him.”
The house’s reflection ripples in the lake at its back as storm clouds grumble above us. Anton bounds up to Nikolai with a stick in his mouth, wagging his tail non-stop. Nikolai crouches down and pets him before tossing the stick off into the distance. Anton shoots after it, disappearing into the grass.
“How long have you had him?” I ask, watching the dog sprint away.
“A long time now. I got him as a puppy. He was Alek’s idea, actually. He thought we could use some guard dogs, and Anton took a liking to me. Anton wouldn’t stop following me.” Nikolai chuckles and shrugs.
Anton bounds back, dark clouds in the sky following behind him. He drops the stick and sits in front of Nikolai, who glanced at me and then over at the house.
“They’ll be here soon.”
“I know.” I whisper as the ghost of my father’s hand strangles my neck. I look at the house with him, watching the dark clouds cover it in shadow. “Can we stay for just a little longer?”
Nikolai wraps his arm around me, pulling me close to him. “I’ll stay out here with you for as long as you need.”
My dad hasn’t reached out to me since the engagement disaster, not that I expected him to. The thought of facing him makes my stomach flip. What will he do when he sees the piercings? The clothes I actually chose for myself? I should laugh at the thought of him flipping out over something so small as what I wear, but years of conditioning can’t be worked away with a few jokes. Will he even treat me as a daughter? As far as he knows, my last name isn’t even De Rossi anymore; it’s Ilyin.
My father is a cold man. The type of man who holds grudges.
Greyson stands in front of a large set of double doors with his hands clasped together behind his back. He glances at my outfit before raising an eyebrow as we approach, the hint of a grin tugging at his stony expression.
My heart slams against my ribs harder with every step towards the meeting room. It’s fine, there’s nothing he can actually do to you. He wasn’t exactly going to pull out a gun in the middle of the Bratva safe-house. So why am I freaking out? Nikolai squeezes my hand, as if he can sense the anxiety building up in my body.
Viktor’s booming laugh bounces through the corridor from behind the closed doors, followed by a chorus of muffled voices. Even muffled through the doors, my father’s icy tone slashes into the atmosphere and sends a shiver into my soul.
“Are we the last to join?” Asks Nikolai.
Greyson nods. “You are.” He turns to open the door, before throwing a quick glance over his shoulder at me and whispering, “good luck.”
Either I’m so stressed reality isn’t working properly or that was a dream.
With a deep breath, I step over the threshold and into the meeting room.
Foot-soldiers from both families stand at the edges of the room, their hands hovering over their poorly concealed guns, while all the big players sit around a table in the centre of the room. They all look up in unison, and all of them focused on me immediately.
I’d been singing on stages since I was a kid, from dingy bars to full opera houses. After my first few performances, I stopped feeling the wave of nerves that tend to sink new performers. But I’d gladly drown in those nerves now to escape all the eyes in this room.
Aleksander sees me and his face goes white, his hands curling into fists. He looks at me, and then at Nikolai, who stands tall and proud next to me. Viktor leans back in his chair, folding his arms like he’s about to watch the last round of a fight.
My brother, my mama, and my father sit on the other side of the table.
Fredo shrinks back, his body instinctively preparing for our father’s explosive reaction. My mama lets out a gasp, as if she’s a courtly lady hearing the latest gossip about a disgraced noble, and covers her open mouth with her delicate hand.
My father doesn’t move. As soon as his eyes find me, he slips into a time lock, unable to process what’s in front of him.
The air in the room weighs down like a portcullis sinking its teeth into bloody earth. My usual confidence drains away in front of my family, making me feel like the little girl terrified of her father’s shadow.
“They’re just some fucking piercings. Get over it.” Nikolai’s gruff voice snaps the silence like a twig.
All the eyes lock onto him as he leads me to the table and pulls out a chair for me to sit in. He places me next to Viktor and takes the seat on the opposite side of me, putting himself between me and my family.
My father stews in his silence, his twitching eyes piercing into me, the beast inside him boiling itself up with every tick of the grandfather clock at the back of the room. I cross my legs, and Nikolai’s hand finds mine. I catch his eye for half a moment and suddenly feel so much calmer. It’s like thinking you’re walking into a war you’ve lost a hundred times, only this time you have your own army at your back.
“Just some piercings?” Fredo throws his hands in the air. “What about that skirt? She’s practically naked, for Christ’s sake.”
Fredo spends more time at a strip club than he does anywhere else and has no problem with it, yet when I wear a knee-length skirt, it’s like I’ve just killed three people.
“It’s a knee-length skirt! I’m not naked, I’m just dressing how I want to, and that’s none of your business.”
Fredo shakes his head in disgust. “And you’re doing this in front of Ma?” He glances at our mama, who’d gone deathly quiet. Her eyes are almost sympathetic, but I know I won’t find a friend in her, not while she sits next to dad. She follows his orders, even when he isn’t saying them out loud.
“Tell me this is a fucking joke?” Fredo looks over at Aleksander, who stays still, ignoring my brother’s outcry.
“It’s not a joke.” Nikolai answers for them. “Isabella is her own person. That means she can dress however she wants.” He leans into the table, closing in on Fredo’s space. “And anyone who has a problem with that can deal with me.”
Fredo flinches back, before his brows knit together in annoyance that he’d been intimidated. “I’m not scared of you.” Fredo’s jaw tenses and he sniffs to hide the embarrassment. I wonder what he'd do if his men weren’t standing in the same room with their hands on their guns.
Nikolai smirks, his dark gaze trained on my brother.
Fredo glances around the room, looking everywhere but at Nikolai. “Get your attack dog to back down.” He laughs to Aleksander, trying to play his fear off as a joke.
“Why are you here?” I speak up, cutting the theatrics to a halt. “You disowned me, remember? Why waste your time?”
I look at him for an answer, but his eyes refuse to meet mine. He stares off into the distance, watching the grandfather clock as if it might reverse for him to wake up and realise this is all a bad dream.
My mama answers in a soft voice. “Yes, your father asked you to leave for a little while, but we’re family. It was just meant to teach you a lesson. Nobody thought you’d run off with…” Her voice trails off as her eyes flicker to Nikolai.
“You need to come home,” says Fredo. “It’s your duty.”
Nikolai’s hand tightens around mine, squeezing hard enough to make my bones creak. I suck in a deep breath, tiptoeing through the thoughts and feelings in my head. My father’s eyes flicker to me just as I start to speak, making my voice crack and falter like the foundations of a burning building.
“My duty is to my husband, too.” I splutter.
“Husband.” My father’s voice is a gnarled, spiteful whisper.
His eyes pin me to my chair, summoning adrenaline into me like a rabbit staring down the bloody jaws of a fox. I open my mouth, but whatever words I'm searching for leave me.
“She’s my wife.” Nikolai takes over, positioning his body between me and my father. “We had to rush the ceremony due to the threats being handed out by the Irish on her life. You were nowhere to be found, and someone had to protect her.”
A cold fire flickers around my father as if the devil is stepping into his body. He glances at Aleksander. “Do you have children, Pakhan?” His voice stays still, controlled.
“No.”
My father’s eyes lock with mine, enjoying the moments of terror even in his own turmoil. “When you do, keep them close. The moment you let them have an ounce of freedom, they spit in your face.” He stands abruptly, his chair screeching into the silence. “It all started with the fucking singing. I should have never let you take those lessons.”
“You made me sing for your friends!” I spit back, tears of frustration brimming in my eyes. Nobody ever makes me cry, except my family, who seem to reduce me to an emotional wreck over anything and everything.
He continues, ignoring me as if I wasn’t there. “You started at the Opera, and everyone loved you for it. You lapped up the attention like you were fucking starving for it. Then, the rumours started.” His snarling voice goes cold. “ Don Leonardo’s daughter sings at clubs, dressed like a painted whore. ”
Nikolai slams the table with his fists and rockets to his feet. “Don’t call her that.” He roars, squaring his broad shoulders up to my father. Nikolai’s body tenses, the animal inside him bearing its fangs.
“Nikolai, stop!” Aleksander and Viktor shoot to their feet, as all the foot-soldier’s in the room brandish their guns. Viktor grabs onto Nikolai, holding him back, but he can't contain him.
My father looks over at Aleksander, a scowl permanently nailed to his lips. “You bring me here, promising to make peace, and then insult me to my face.” He points at Nikolai. “Pakhan Sidorov would have cut this fucker’s throat for touching my daughter.” He shakes his head in disgust. “You let him marry her.”
“I’d have never married him if you hadn’t tried to force me out of the family.” I shout loud enough to shatter the tension pressing into the room. My father’s reptilian eyes slice through me, pure hatred pouring out of them.
He adjusts his perfect white suit and pushes his hair back, as if he might step out onto a gangster movie set afterwards. He points at me, “I don’t recognise this marriage, this abomination. I will teach you respect, even if it’s the last thing I do. Come back to your family, or I will take you back.”
All the eyes in the room focus on me as I hover there, trying my best to hide the uncontrollable tremors rocking my body. My father waits for a response, and I want to give him one. I want to tell him to rot in hell; I want to slap him, to make him feel one tenth of the pain he made me suffer through all these years. But I can’t. My body won’t let me. I feel my resolve crumbling. I feel the years of conditioning and trauma dragging me down.
“I…” I breathe through forming tears.
Nikolai takes up the space in front of me, his huge back blocking my view.
“She already gave you her answer. You want her back? Try to take her from me.” The butterflies in my stomach go into overdrive. I've never seen anyone stand up to my dad for me before. My mama always followed his word, my brother even joined in sometimes. I'm not the one standing up to him, but my heart is thumping in my chest.
The foot-soldiers tense, every man in the room acutely aware that it only takes one itchy trigger-finger to send them all to hell.
“Oh, I’d love to finish the job Pakhan Sidorov started so long ago. How many more scars could I carve into your flesh before I break you?” Hisses my father.
Nikolai and my father lock into an intense stare for a moment that seems to drag on forever.
“This needs to stop. We’re grown men, everyone settle down and we can resolve this like adults.” Aleksander barks.
My father shakes his head, gesturing to his men. “The time for talk is over, dear Aleksander. I will have my daughter back. She’s mine.” He moves to the door, turning one last time for a final glance at me. “When I find the bar that you’ve been whoring yourself at, I’m going to burn it to the ground with everyone who hid you inside. If you come back to me on your own, I might let the poor bastards running it live.”
My father waits a moment to watch the pain in my eyes before disappearing down the corridor, his men and my family hurrying out after him.
The moment the doors close, I let out a breath wracked with emotion and collapse into Nikolai’s arms, who hugs me into his body. Aleksander shouts something, and Nikolai growls back, but the world is going fuzzy and their words drown into nothingness.