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"I know that, and you damn well know it too," he replies. "It's not my business, but you better believe Vlad is not as blind as you think."
There’s nothing I can say that won’t sound like I’m protesting too much. I pick up the tray and bring it to the table. As I set it down, I hear Morgana's voice.
"We're here!" She makes a beeline for Vlad, who rises, as do all the men at our table. Morgana is the pakhan's wife, and her station demands respect. She signals for everyone to retake their seats and sits beside Vlad, planting a kiss on his cheek.
Puzzled, I turn to find Lilyana hesitating in the restaurant doorway. She appears anxious, her posture hunched as if she's trying to make herself as inconspicuous as possible. I navigate my way through the chairs and tables to reach her, but Sissi Barone intercepts me.
"Arman!" he says, gripping my hand too firmly and pumping my arm. "I have Timur here. Come and catch up."
"Sure. I’ll be right over.”
I slip past Sissi and take Lilyana's hand. She doesn’t resist, but I feel her shaking.
"What's wrong?"
"I can't do it," she whispers. "I can't be here with you and pretend to be in love. It's too strange."
Illusion is the name of the game, but I detest hearing her use the word "pretend." My ego bares its teeth, incandescent with rage that her resistance isn’t crushed by the sheer intensity of my desire.
"What about what you did to me?" I murmur, drawing her closer. "You don't understand what you're getting into, tsvetok. Do you think I'm in control of this situation?" I speak close to her ear, ensuring only she can hear. "I'm not. I want to make you completely mine, and this afternoon, I almost broke my promise to Vlad. How the fuck can you call this a sham when—"
"You touched me last night," Lilyana says, squeezing my hand. "Don't you remember? I suppose you were asleep."
Holy shit. I thought she was embarrassed about being scared during the storm, but it was because I had caressed her body while lost in dreams about her. No wonder she thought I was behaving like an asshole today.
"We'll discuss this later," I say to Lilyana. "Come with me."
I settle beside Sissi, with Lilyana on my other side, and signal to Timur. He sits opposite me, picking at his Frutti di Mare.
“So you need my help?” he asks, pouring me a vodka.
I down it, relishing the burn. "It seems Aldo Moretti is determined to cause trouble ever since I called him out for manhandling Lilyana. Given your existing issues with them, I thought you might enjoy doing some digging for me. Find out if this rebellion is just talk or a genuine threat." I hand Timur the memory stick. "In the meantime, review this footage and send the guy who vandalized the car to me. I'll help him understand the error of his ways."
Timur is appalled. "Did someone smash it up?"
"No, just keyed it. But it's a Ghost."
"Rolls Royce? I can see why you're pissed. Do you want this kept discreet?"
"Yes," I say. "I can't investigate when I’m at the heart of the problem, so I need you to be my intermediary. I gotta clarify whether it’s symptomatic of a larger problem with the Morettis."
"Understood," Timur responds. "Assuming that’s acceptable to you, Don Barone."
Sissi shrugs. "It has to be, I suppose. Those Morettis are a nuisance for me as well. I'm happy to put my resources at your disposal."
"Arman!"
It’s Oleg, Vlad’s colleague in the komissiya. The man appears about ninety but is closer to seventy, but that’s the bratva life for you; it hits some harder than others.
"You're a crafty one, aren't you?" he says. "Snagging young Lilyana here. Have you been plotting this since you met her?"
"When she was three and I was fifteen?" I glare at him. "No, Oleg. That’s fucking creepy."
Oleg wanders off. Timur and Sissi look perplexed.
"He made it sound pretty bad," Sissi remarks.
I sigh. I hate recounting this story; most of the New York City underworld are familiar with it, but these guys aren't locals.
