Chapter 23
Jude
“How’s he doing, Doc?” Gio asks with crossed arms as he surveys Mina’s so-called gift to my father—an unconscious Demitri Mikhailov hooked up to more tubes and machines than I can count. “Think he’ll pull through?”
“I’d rather not answer that, if you don’t mind, Mr. DeLuca,” the doctor replies, eyes fixed on Demitri’s chart. “Self-preservation and all.”
“Smart man,” Gio smirks, throwing me a knowing wink.
Dr. Goldberg has been working for the famiglia for years, long enough to know that Vincent doesn’t handle failure well. If our Bratva prisoner doesn’t survive, the good doctor will land himself on my father’s shitlist, and that’s the last place anyone wants to be.
“I’ll do everything possible, but it doesn’t look promising. It also doesn’t help matters that he seems to have no will to fight. A patient who’s already given up on himself is usually the hardest to save.”
After the doctor leaves the room, Gio lets out a low whistle. “Those Crane twins really did a number on him, huh?”
I don’t respond, mostly because I’m about ninety percent certain that his injuries weren’t their handiwork. If anything, they were Mina’s doing. Judging by the cuts and bruises she was sporting, Demitri didn’t go down without a fight either.
“Now that we’re alone, do you want to tell me what’s going on with you and Mina Crane?” Gio asks point-blank.
“Nothing is going on,” I lie, shoving my hand into my pocket and grabbing the chess piece inside it.
“Nothing?” Gio asks, unconvinced. “Then explain to me why I saw you aim your gun at Dominic and your own baby brother?”
“Marcello isn’t a baby anymore. Not if he’s attending meetings now.” I scowl, trying to deflect the question.
“Boy, don’t change the subject,” Gio retorts accusingly. “The fuck was that about?”
“You’re mistaken, Dad. I didn’t point a gun at Marcello or Dom. I was aiming at the twins.”
“I saw what I saw, Jude,” he counters, disappointed with my answer. “And so did Vincent. Not only that, so did every capo that has sworn his fealty to him.”
I straighten my spine at the threat in his voice.
I’m so fucked.
As my father likes to say, that’s tomorrow’s problem. Tonight, everyone will be too focused on Dimitri and his health to dwell on the clusterfuck I just made of my life with one fucking move.
“Answer me, son,” Gio insists, with less heat in his tone, placing a hand on my shoulder.
When I refuse to answer him, he lets out an exaggerated exhale.
“You can lie to anyone you want, Jude, but not to me. It’s written all over your face that there is history between the two of you.”
History. That’s all she and I have now.
Mina Crane stole my heart and has made it crystal clear that she refuses to return it. And no matter how much I beg or plead, the stubborn thing seems to prefer resting in her delicate hands rather than mine.
“Fair enough,” Gio finally concedes when I keep my lips sealed shut, preferring to stare at the man lying in bed with tubes coming out of him rather than answering my adoptive father’s probing questions. “If you don’t want to tell me yet, I’ll wait until you do. You can always come to me, Jude. With anything. Always. You know that, right?”
“There’s nothing to tell. Not anymore,” I let escape after hearing the earnestness in his voice.
“Ah, I see. So there was something between you?”
“Once,” I admit, the word tasting like bile on the tip of my tongue.
“But not anymore?” I shake my head. “May I ask why?” Gio asks, his curiosity officially piqued.
Because I chose wrong. Because I should have taken Victor’s offer when he gave it to me—my birthright be damned. If I had, the only woman I ever loved would have been my wife by now instead of being engaged to Felix.
“I can stay on guard for now. You don’t have to be here, Dad,” I respond, putting an end to this conversation.
Thankfully, Gio doesn’t probe further, sensing that I’ve already said all I’m willing to say on the subject, at least for the time being.
“Call me if you need anything,” he says, giving my shoulder a light squeeze. But just as he’s about to walk out the door, he turns around and says, “For what it’s worth, it didn’t look like whatever you two had is over. Take it from me, son. In most cases, all a woman needs is to see that we care enough to give a shit. Actions speak louder than words. Just some food for thought. Take it or leave it. But if I taught you right, you’ll take my advice.”
I don’t say anything in return because I know he’s wrong.
Nothing I can say or do will win Mina’s heart.
She hates me.
Any love she might have had for me once upon a time is long dead.
I pull up a chair and take a seat in front of the scumbag who dared to put his hands on Mina. A part of me didn’t even care about what critical information he had for us since every fiber in my being demanded that I blow his brains out right there and then in front of every capo for daring to lay one finger on my Mina.
My Mina.
She was never really mine, was she?
She said it herself. I never claimed her.
Not really.
No. All I did was steal things from her.
Steal her first kiss.
Steal her virginity.
Steal whatever goodness and light she could offer me without giving her anything in return.
Yes, Mina holds my heart and soul in her hands, but she’ll never know it.
As far as she’s concerned, I’m the worst villain that ever crossed her path.
I hate Dimitri for hurting her, but I hate myself even more. Because though I would never dream of laying a hand on her, I still managed to cause damage.
Irreparable damage that I will never be able to atone for.
Nor do I deserve to.
I’m not sure how long I just sit there in Dimitri’s room staring blankly into space when I hear the door creak open behind me. I don’t turn around because I know who it is just by the stealthy steps.
“You shouldn’t be here, Stella.”
“Who’s going to stop me?” she replies arrogantly as she places a tray of food on top of a nearby table. “Thought you might need to refuel. You’ve been here for hours.”
“Have I? I didn’t notice.”
To be fair, it’s not the first time I’ve lost track of time thinking about Mina. In those first few years after returning from London, I kept myself buried in the Outfit’s business just to get her out of my head. But late at night, when everything was quiet, I’d lie awake, picturing her face instead of getting the sleep I needed.
I had to use my memory to recall every little detail. The way she smiled. The way she would brush her hair off her shoulder when she meant business. The way her lips parted for breath when she looked at me.
Like a fool, I never brought a picture of her with me to Chicago, convincing myself that out of sight meant out of mind. And if I didn’t have any physical proof of her stunning face, it would make healing my broken heart all that easier.
It didn’t. I regretted the decision before my plane even lifted off Heathrow’s runway.
Unlike most people, Mina refuses to have any online presence, something Victor strongly encouraged. The less the world knew about his daughter, the better.
But I knew Mina.
I knew everything about her.
Or at least I thought I did.
This version that has come to Chicago is the complete opposite of the girl I first met.
This woman is hard and apathetic. It’s like she refuses to let herself feel anymore.
No, that’s a lie.
She feels.
Oh, she definitely feels.
Hate and disgust.
For me.
“So what did this guy do?” Stella asks while stealing a French fry off my plate and taking a bite.
“Like I’d ever tell you.” I half-smile, half-frown at her.
“Oh, come on, Jude. I’ll find out sooner or later.”
“Oh, yeah?” I cock a brow. “And how do you think you’ll accomplish that?”
“I have my ways,” she sings, swaying her hips from left to right.
“Marcello won’t tell you if that’s what you’re inferring,” I deadpan.
“Marcello tells me everything.”
“Trust me, he doesn’t. Not if it will put him in hot water with our father,” I growl, still wondering what the hell my baby brother was doing at that godforsaken meeting earlier today.
When Stella’s smile starts to dip into a frown, I know there is a small part inside her that agrees with me. Marcello would do anything for her except oppose our father.
“Then you tell me.” She bats her eyelashes at me.
“Nice try. That shit stopped working on me years ago.”
“Fine.” She rolls her eyes. “Don’t tell me. I don’t care anyway.”
“Yeah, you do,” I crack a smile since my baby sister is completely obsessed when it comes to the Outfit’s business. She reminds me so much of myself when I was her age.
Eager.
So fucking eager to get into the family business.
But if I had to move to another country and blackmail my father just to get inducted, then God only knows what Stella would have to do to get her foot through the door.
Her gender is her Achilles heel.
She might wield a knife like a pro, but that won’t open the doors she thinks it will.
She’ll need backing. And unfortunately for her, there isn’t a line of people dying to offer it.
More than a few capos showed their true colors today regarding their views on a woman’s place in the syndicate. For them, she shouldn’t have one at all.
Mina is the legitimate heir and successor to the Firm and still they scoffed at her.
Stella has an even harder road ahead of her.
Because she has our mother to fight with, too.
I know all too well how that goes.
“You know we have other people to babysit, right? You don’t have to be cooped up here all day. Get someone else to do it. The room smells like death, and that shit is a bitch to wash off,” my sister says, unbothered, grabbing a few more French fries off my plate and plopping them in her mouth.
“I want to be here in case he wakes up. I want to be the first person he sees,” I grind out, still pissed with the memory of Mina’s busted-up face.
“What if he doesn’t wake up?”
“He has to.”
She squints her eyes, taking a good, hard look at Dimitri, and says, “He doesn’t look Russian.”
“Stella,” I let out an exhale. “Stop probing and go away. You’re not going to get anything from me.”
“You used to be way more fun, you know that?” She scoffs, spinning on her heel to walk out of the room.
“I used to be a lot of things,” I whisper softly to myself.
But when I see Dimitri shift slightly, I call out to her, “Stella, do you know if the Cranes have left already?”
“No. They’re still here. Why?”
“Mind doing me a favor?”
“Only if you tell me who that guy is,” she tries to blackmail me.
“How about you do your big brother a favor without adding conditions? I’ll owe you one if that helps.”
“Fine. What do you want?”
“Find Mina Crane and bring her to me.”
“Dad won’t like that, Jude,” she warns hesitantly.
“Just do me this solid,” I insist.
She pauses to think about the repercussions of getting caught bringing someone from outside. Thankfully, the pros must outweigh the cons because she gives me a conceding nod and retorts, “Fine. But remember, you owe me one.”
“I know.”
That will probably kick me in the ass later, but I need to see Mina.
Too anxious to keep still, I stand up and walk over to the window, staring at the large yard in front while I wait for her. Twenty minutes later, Stella keeps her promise and ushers Mina inside.
Mina enters the room, looking freshly showered, wearing a simple white top and jeans. However, the scowl she was wearing downstairs in the meeting room is still permanently stitched to her face.
“Remember,” Stella says before leaving. “You owe me one. Big time.”
I don’t say anything as I watch her close the door behind her.
“I don’t appreciate being summoned,” Mina says without sparing me a glance, her attention focused on the semi-lifeless body lying on the bed in front of her.
“You didn’t seem to put up much of a fight when my father summoned you at today’s meeting.”
“Requested. Not summoned. Big difference.”
“Is it?” My chest tightens when I take a step closer to her and see the blue and purple bruises on her face starting to become more prominent.
“To me, it is.”
“Fair enough. Then, I apologize for the imposition. Though I’m glad you came,” I say, bridging the gap between us.
I don’t miss how she swiftly walks away from me, preferring to have the bed between us.
“Why am I here, Jude?”
“Please have a seat,” I reply instead of giving her an answer. I then pull up another chair and plant it right next to mine. I sit down and wait patiently for her to move.
After a good two minutes, she relents and sits beside me, the familiar smell of her coconut body wash infiltrating all my senses.
I rub my thumb gently across her split bottom lip, her breath catching in her throat with the uninvited touch.
“Does it hurt?” My voice comes out gruffer than I would have wanted.
“I’ll live.”
“Did he do this to you?” I tilt my head toward Dimitri.
“His friends.”
“I’ll fucking kill them for laying a hand on you,” I growl.
She turns to me, her gaze still hard as stone.
“Who says I haven’t already?”
“Dimitri was the only one you spared?”
“Yes,” she says flatly. “Once I ensured my spy on the inside was safe, I didn’t care whether one more Bratva soldier lived or died. I had my spy. I had Dimitri. The rest didn’t matter.”
“You should have let me come with you,” I snap in frustration, dragging my hand over my face to cool me down.
“Why?”
“Because…” I start to grit out.
“Because why?”
“Because I didn’t like feeling fucking helpless wondering if you were dead or alive.”
“So let me get this straight, you couldn’t stand feeling terrified for my safety for one day, but when I went through the same experience with you back in London—for years, might I add—it was perfectly acceptable to you? What gives you the right to be so vocal about such things now when I had to endure them in silence?”
“Fair point.” I exhale, knowing damn well she’s right.
Back in London, Mina had no idea what I was up to during the week. She had to wait until the weekend just to confirm I wasn’t lying dead somewhere, especially in the early days of our relationship. It wasn’t until things turned physical that I gave up my London flat and made the manor in Kent my official home.
Aside from her kidnapping, I always knew Mina was safe. She didn’t have that same luxury when it came to me.
“Still, would it hurt to let me and my crew help you? There’s no shame in relying on your friends when you need them most.”
“We’re not friends,” she replies dryly.
“We were once.”
“You were a great many things once. Not anymore.”
“Fuck, Mina. Are you going to give me the fucking cold shoulder the entire time you’re here?”
This time, she turns to face me head-on, her expression hard and cruel.
“And how exactly do you think you should be treated? I don’t know you.”
“You know me, Mina. You, more than anyone, knows me!”
She merely scoffs.
“This is what I know, Jude. That you’re a liar. A manipulator. A weak man still scrambling to earn his daddy’s approval. You would do just about anything—lie, cheat, steal—and wrong everyone who ever cared for you to get it. This is what I know.”
“You’re wrong.” I shake my head vehemently. “It was never about my father’s approval. It was always about wanting to be worthy of my birthright. You know this, Mina.”
“Right. Birthright. How could I forget?” she mocks. “Tell me, does your birthright keep you warm at night?”
I thin my lips, only for her to lean in until our faces are inches apart.
“You know what keeps me warm at night?” She breathes huskily, seductively. “My fiancée.”
When she sees the hatred in my eyes, she pulls away and leans back in her chair, a satisfied smirk tugging at the corner of her lips.
I don’t dare reply to that. If I do, I might just punch my fist into a wall. It would hurt less than the image she just planted into my brain.
So, I shove my hand into my pocket instead and pretend not to be eviscerated by her sharp tongue.
“That? What the hell is that?” she asks after a long bout of silence.
“You’ll have to be more specific, Mina. I’m not a mind reader,” I respond, still feeling far too raw to be amicable with her right now.
“I’m talking about this new tic you’ve picked up,” she says, staring at my hand moving about my pocket. “What exactly are you fiddling with? Every time I see you now, you’re always fiddling with whatever toy you have in there,” she explains, curiosity edged in her voice.
That’s the Mina I know, always too curious for her own good.
“It’s nothing,” I lie.
“You’re lying. You should have figured out by now that I can always tell when you’re lying?”
“Let it go, Mina,” I snap, tired of hearing that she doesn’t believe me.
“Show it to me,” she orders.
“No.”
“I said, show it to me.”
“Mina—”
Before I can get another word in edgewise, she grabs my arm and pulls my hand out of my pocket, the queen chess piece still in my grip. She doesn’t say anything as she gently unlatches it so she can hold it in the palm of her hand.
“I thought I had lost it,” she whispers, eyeing the white ivory chess piece as if it were as precious to her as it is to me. “I looked everywhere for it. Everywhere. And you had it all this time. Why?” she asks softly, her beautiful stormy eyes filled with confusion and what looks a lot like hope.
“You know why?”
Her breath catches in her throat, remembering every time I said those same words to her—y ou know why.
It was my answer when she demanded to know why I became so jealous of Felix when learning her Aunt Pippa proposed she should marry him.
It was my answer when she couldn’t comprehend why our first kiss made me want to keep a safe distance away from her.
It was my answer when she asked why I was at her bedroom door after she was kidnapped.
And it’s my answer now.
Because every time I said those three little words to her, I was replacing them with three others I had longed to say—I love you.
It’s because I love you, Mina.
That’s why I do the things I do.
As the realization dawns on her, it’s enough to suck out all the malice, disdain, and contempt she was so fiercely holding onto when she walked through the door.
Without uttering a word, Mina places the chess piece back in my hand for me to keep holding onto. I’m not sure if she is giving it back to me because she doesn’t have the heart to take it back or because it’s the only part of her I get to keep.
And I wish the not knowing didn’t just kill a part of what was left of my soul a little more.
I wake up the next day to the sound of ruffling bed sheets, with Mina’s head nestled on my shoulder. We stayed up all night in perfect silence, watching over Dimitri. But we must have fallen asleep somewhere along the way, considering the bright rays of the early dawn filtering through the curtains.
I stay rooted to my chair, not moving a muscle just so I can keep her head exactly where it is. Asleep like this, she looks like the woman I fell head over heels in love with. She looks so peaceful and beautiful as she snuggles closer, placing her hand on my chest. I brush the hair out of her face and just drink her in.
“Ti amo così tanto amore. Non c’è niente che non darei per trattenerti. E come mi tormenta la certezza che ti perderò. Il mio cuore sanguina per te. Il mio cuore sanguinerà sempre per te.”
I press a light kiss to her temple before forcing myself back, hating that I can’t show her the same tenderness when she’s awake.
Unfortunately, when Dimitri shifts on the bed and starts to groan, I know this stolen moment has come to an end.
Ever so gently, I push her back into her chair and place another quick kiss on the top of her head before making my way to Dimitri.
“Water,” he croaks to me when I reach him.
After pouring some water onto a cup, I lift his head and help him take a few sips. I then lower his head back on the pillow, putting the barely drunk cup back on the nightstand.
“Looks like you’re going to make it after all,” I announce, hovering over him.
His eyes become weary.
“What are you going to do to me?”
“You know the answer to that question,” I state flatly.
He closes his eyelids and shivers, imagining the worst things possible. I hate to tell him that his imagination doesn’t hold a candle to the real thing my father has in mind.
Either he or Marcello will ensure to prolong his suffering. Of that, I have no doubt.
I lower my lips to his ear and say, “You told us that you’re in bed with the Cosa Nostra , but I’m going to need more than that. I’m going to need the name of the man who persuaded you to betray your Pakhan and traffic women on our turf. Give me a name.”
“If I do that, they’ll kill me.”
“You’re already dead, Dimitri. This… this is just your purgatory.”
He stares into my eyes and opens his mouth but then shuts it again.
“Give me a name… and I’ll give you what you want,” I promise him.
“I have your word?” he says, desperation laced in his voice.
I nod. He takes a minute before finally giving me what I want by saying, “Donato.”
The sound of that name coming out of Dimitri’s mouth takes me off kilter.
“Donato? As in New York’s Cosa Nostra Donatos?”
He nods.
The fuck?
“Are you sure? How do I know you’re not lying to me?”
He then gives me an address.
“You’ll find everything there. Ledgers. Inventory. Everything.”
Anger and fury run through my bloodstream at discovering the Donato famiglia is behind all of it. But before I have time to wallow further in my hatred, Dimitri grabs my forearm to get my attention and says, “Please. You gave me your word.”
“Do you have family?” I ask him, to which he shakes his head.
“Very well.”
As I slide a pillow from under his head, Dimitri begins murmuring the Lord’s Prayer in mangled Russian. I wait for the traditional amen before pressing the pillow over his face. He doesn’t even fight me, as his survival instinct is no longer a match against his fear. When I’m certain he’s taken his last breath, I pull the pillow away and gently close his eyelids. I place the pillow back under his head and turn, only to find Mina awake, watching me.
She doesn’t say anything, but she doesn’t have to.
This gentle death was more than a man like Dimitri Mikhailov deserved.
“A quick death. Just like you promised him.”
“Thank you,” she says, with none of the usual bite on her voice.
I let out a long exhale, my shoulders slumping.
“It’s still me, Mina. I’m still in here.”
“Maybe,” she says, getting up from her seat. “Maybe you are. But that doesn’t change much. Not for me.”
And then she leaves.