31. Chapter 27
Chapter 27
Isabella
I wake up happy in Nikolai’s arms. For the first time in my life, everything feels at peace. Soon the situation will calm down enough for me to return to The Blue Moon and start singing again. Nikolai loves hearing me sing; sometimes I think he waits for me to shower before he leaves in the morning so he can hear my voice. I don’t have to deal with my family, and I get to wake up next to one of the sexiest, strongest, richest men I’ve ever met.
I stroll through the house, finally feeling like I have an internal map for the place in my head. I poke my head into the games room to hear Viktor, pre-board flip and storm out, ranting about how Greyson had to be cheating. Why does he keep playing if he never wins? Especially when he’s drinking half the time he plays. Alcohol can help with a lot of things; chess isn’t one of them. Adrienne and I share opinions on the book we’ve decided to read together over breakfast and in between her barking orders to the rest of the staff in preparation for the day. After breakfast, I’m thinking I’ll go for a stroll through the gardens just to be present and appreciate the fact life finally seems to be calming down.
“Goodbye.”
The wind whips my hair around my face, screaming loud enough to cover my scattered breathing. The world is collapsing around me. Again. My freezing fingers clutch onto my phone like the edge of a jagged cliff. The call ends and my body takes over.
I run.
I don’t think. I can’t. Adrenaline and an unbearable pain in my chest force me forward. I try to breathe, but the weight sinking into my heart suffocates me.
Why did I believe in any of this? Why did I listen? Why did I open up?
My thoughts scream over the roaring wind pushing me on through the gardens. I weave between trees, snapping twigs and dodge whipping brunches as my legs pump me forward.
I run until my lungs burn. I run until I reach the edge of the Sidorov estate. The gates are closed, so I climb over the wall to the side, ignoring the branches and spikes clawing at my skin, trying to drag me back to the ground.
I land on the other side with a thump before taking one last fleeting look at Sidorov Mansion. Tears of rage fill my eyes.
I’ll never trust anyone again.
I swear it to myself, promising protection to the screaming inside me, giving it whatever I could to soothe the uncontrollable pain.
I follow the road, heading back to the city. Heading into an unknown world because there was no other choice. Let Callum O’Shea send his assassins. They’ll be kinder than anything I’ve found with the Cosa Nostra or the Bratva.
Cars rarely drive up these roads, but one cruises towards me like a lazy cat stretching before breakfast. I trudge forward, averting my eyes.
The car slows.
Is it Bratva? Did they see me running?
The car stops.
They won’t take me back. Not now.
The door opens.
It’s now or never.
I summon the last of my energy and run like my life depends on it, because it might.
“Isabella, wait!”
That voice stops me in my tracks, flipping the world around once again. It’s not the voice I expected.
Nikolai
Alek looks up at the grand painting of Ivan hanging in the entrance hall. We study it together. The stern look on that bastard’s face sends a shiver down my spine. I look away in disgust.
“Any news on Damon?” I ask, controlling my voice as much as I can.
Alek catches my eye. “I heard he was in Italian territory. They’re not sharing information, though. So, I can’t say.”
I nod, sucking in a long breath. Alek glances up at the painting again before asking, “where’s Viktor?”
“Drinking.”
“It’s getting out of control.” Mutters Alek. “He’ll kill himself.”
“It’s always been out of control. He fights, he drinks, he laughs, he disappears, and then it all starts again. It’s been the same ever since Damon killed their father.” Viktor’s father glares at me from the painting for daring to mention his death. Fuck you, old man. I’m glad you’re in the ground.
Alek nods to himself before lighting a cigarette. He offers me one, but I refuse it.
“You invited the Irish to your birthday celebration?”
Alek’s eyes flicker to mine through the wisps of smoke. “We can’t be enemies with the Irish and the Italians. We can pick fights, sure, but fighting everyone at once is suicide.”
“Callum won’t drop what my wife did to him.”
Alek stares at the painting as the morning light reflects onto Ivan’s sharp features. He shares Viktor’s dark hair and thick beard, only Viktor has let his get out of control with his drinking. “I’m going to offer him a cut of the casino at the party. Smooth things over.”
A piece of my casino to keep Isabella safe. Fine. I can accept that.
Alek turns to me. “You know, Ivan was a powerful leader until he got paranoid.”
“Paranoia gets all mafia leaders.” I say back.
“It can. Ivan let his heart control his actions. He stopped being rational. He became reactive; let the situation decide for him. We have to be smart to survive.”
I watch him for a moment, and then nod. I don’t have anything to say, not to Alek, anyway.
Our silence is broken by Greyson rushing in with a panicked look on his face.
“Nikolai! Have you seen Isabella?”
I search his wide eyes, my pulse beginning to thump. “I don’t know. I thought she was still having breakfast?”
“One of the guards saw her sprinting through into the forest on the edge of the estate. He said she looked like she’d seen a ghost.”
Before he can say another word, I’ve already bolted away. Whatever is happening, I need to make sure she’s safe. I won’t let anybody hurt her, ever.
Isabella
“Isabella, wait!”
That voice stops me in my tracks, flipping the world around once again. It’s not the voice I expected.
I turn, thoughts racing around, bumping into each other and making it impossible to get any of them straight. I don’t know what to think.
Fredo appears from his car and walks over to me with a soft expression on his face. He reaches out, but I instantly recoil.
“What are you doing here?” I snap. This is too much of a coincidence. After the phone call I’ve just had, for him to arrive on the same day, wearing a friendly face, feels pre-planned. I don’t trust a moment of it.
“I’ve come to save my baby sister.” He says, and I think he believes every word of it. We just have entirely different definitions of the word save.
“Explain right now or I will fuck you up.” I snarl.
He barks a laugh until he realises I’m serious. “Iz, you’re half my size.”
“I think you’re forgetting how I used to rub your face into the carpet twice a week.” I’ve always been a tomboy, and he had a late puberty. Add that to a macho dad and you get a girl beating up her brother for her father’s love.
He chuckles. “I remember. We’re not kids anymore, Iz. I’m not going to hurt you.” He takes another step towards me.
“If you take one more step without a good explanation, I will hurt you.” The MMA classes my dad forced me to after finding out a boy liked me flash through my mind.
Fredo stops, sighs, and runs his hand through his jet black hair. “Fine. But next time, I want you to remember this. After everything, I still came to be on your side. Because we’re family.”
“I know about the bar you used to sneak out to. The one you sang at. I never told dad because we all need our lives away from the family. I have my secrets, you have yours. As long as you were safe, I never wanted to take that away from you.”
Despite his kind tone, my insides shake with rage as I piece the narrative together in my head. I know exactly where he’s going with this.
“I don’t take any pleasure in telling you this, Iz. I know it means a lot to you.” He takes in a tense breath. “The Russians burned The Blue Moon to the ground. I know you were close to the owners. I’m told they were inside when it happened. I’m so sorry.”
“You’re lying.” I hiss through gritted teeth.
“I’m not. It’s gone, Iz.”
“No, that’s not what you’re lying about.” I look at him like a lioness defending her cubs.
He cocks his head. “What?”
“It wasn’t the Russians that burned The Blue Moon. It was you. It was fucking dad.”
Fredo bursts into laughter, but it quickly dies away when I don’t give him a reaction. “You can’t be serious.”
“Of course I’m serious! Why would the Russians burn a bar on Italian territory? Nikolai would never let them touch The Blue Moon, he knows how much it means to me.”
“Why would dad order that? Burn his own fucking bar? That’s moronic. The Russians are just using you. They have been since day one. Dad’s too prideful to say it, but I can see it for what it is. That monster you call a husband barely touched a woman before you. He’s a torturer, a murderer. Now, he’s suddenly some romantic? On the eve of our family uniting with the Irish? A move that would break the Bratva’s influence in Righteous Cove? You’re smart, Iz, you must know what’s going on. They’re not your family, they’re using you.”
I step into him, peddling the attack. “Because he’s a cruel man. Because he knows it would hurt me. Because he knows if men with Russian accents are seen burning the one place special to me, the one fucking place I ever knew as a home, it might be enough to make me leave Nikolai. It might have been enough for him to get his fucking claws back into me. And that’s why he sent you. A friendly face to make me trust any of this bullshit.”
Fredo straightens, a cold mist wafting into his eyes. “That’s a delightful story you’ve crafted, but I’m not tricking you, Iz. I’m here to help you.”
“I know you’re tricking me.”
“How? How am I tricking you? Why are you always making up narratives in your head? You always assume the worst. Maybe I’m actually here because you’re my sister and I fucking care about you! Why can’t you believe that?”
“Percy and Camilla aren’t dead.” I hiss.
“What?” His brows pinch.
“The owners of the bar, they’re alive. You said they were dead because that was the plan. Kill them and hurt me enough to mess with my head. Well, your men were fucking incompetent, because they escaped. Camilla called me. She told me what happened. And you’re right, the men had Russian accents. They did burn the bar, and they did try to kill them, but they were smart enough to hide and escape.” I shake my head, unsure of what to believe. “This has dad written all over it.” I say bitterly.
“You think dad would be so underhand?” Asks Fredo.
“You don’t?” I ask back.
Fredo pauses for a moment, because he knows our father is capable of so much more than something like this. These kinds of mind games are a Tuesday for Don Leonardo.
“What if it’s Callum O’Shea? He swore he’d make you pay for disrespecting him. The Irish don’t play like the rest of us. They do things quietly.”
I suck in a sharp breath as my heart shatters over and over again in my chest. I look up at my big brother, at someone I want to trust with all my heart. “Please, Fredo, don’t lie to me. I need you to be on my side for once.”
“I am on your side.” He says with conviction.
“Is this dad?”
Fredo pauses, genuinely thinking through his words.
His shoulders slump. “I don’t know.”
The worst part is I believe him. Memories of Fredo promising to pick me up from school and forgetting flash through my mind. An idea pops into his head. He pulls out his phone, stepping towards me tentatively.
“Stop.” I hiss.
“I just want to show you something. We have access to security cameras in our territory. I’ve got a video of the men who burned the bar.” He pauses, holding his hands up. “You know what? I’ll send it to you. If you recognise the men as Italians, by all means, run away. Run back to the Bratva. But, if you look at that video and you see Bratva soldiers, remember I came here in good faith. I came because I was worried. I’ve been calling you without an answer for weeks.”
He composes himself. “Mama convinced everyone to go to the opera. She wants me to tell you to come. She thinks you loved the Opera, it’s her way of trying to pull you back in. It’s next Saturday.”
The same day as Aleksander’s birthday celebration.
“I won’t rush you, but when that video shows you the truth, I want you to remember you have a family waiting for you. I hope I’ll see you there, Iz.”
My body trembles. What if he’s telling the truth? What if all this time, Nikolai was just there to control me? My fears might have been right all along. Maybe they were just controlling me. Aleksander probably ordered him to stop the wedding. Now we’re here, and he’s telling me everything I want to hear until they don’t need me anymore. That’s why they let me dress how I want to, it’s why they let me spend so much money, why Nikolai seems to cater to my every need. Greyson gave me death stares when I first walked into Sidorov Mansion. Now, he plays the piano with me. It’s too good to be true.
I shake my head, tears in my eyes. My brother isn’t any better. They all want to control me.