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I should put her out of my mind so I can think straight, but it’d be impossible even if I wanted to. Lilyana is every bit as exquisite as I imagined—soft lips, a dewy pussy, and breathy moans of pleasure when I touched her. How beautiful, kind, gentle, and talented she is is almost unreal. I’m relieved I found a way to claim her before anyone else could, but Vlad’s trust is a hefty price to pay.
Vlad loves Lilyana like a brother should, but I’m beyond that. Sasha understands; he’s the middle son and is used to negotiating for things, but Vlad and I both feel guilty for not doing more to protect Lilyana from their father. He can’t yet see that the past is fixed and it’s the future that matters.
I’ll stay out of her way today. The girls will keep her occupied, and she’s spending the night at the Kislev mansion for a small bachelorette party. The Kislev men tried to convince me to go out with them, but my mind was preoccupied.
Something bothers me about this Moretti situation. On the surface, it appears as a minor incident—someone tampered with my car, and they paid for it with their life. However, given the severity of what happened at Aldo’s party, it doesn’t feel like a proportional response. Aldo Moretti may be a fat bastard, but he’s got thin skin, and he likely has more revenge in store than petty vandalism.
Fuck it. Why should I care about these mafia games when I’m marrying Lilyana? Tomorrow will be a beautiful day, and perhaps Vlad will be caught up in the romance and see the situation differently.
He always believed his sister would lead a lonely life under his guardianship, but that’s no longer necessary. Like the delicate flower she is, she’ll blossom under my tender care. Dedicating my existence to Lilyana is no hardship. I want her to be happy and safe—being her husband is a bonus.
I arrive at the Kislev house, and Avel informs me that Vlad is in his study with Sissi Barone. I find them sipping coffee and discussing Sissi’s stomping ground.
“Good morning,” Vlad greets me. “Sissi was telling me about Chicago. Are you familiar with the city?”
“I didn’t exactly go sightseeing,” I reply as I sit. “My accommodation was also pretty rough.”
“Oh fuck, of course.” Vlad turns to Sissi. “Arman did time there.”
SIssi tops up his coffee, adding too much cream. “Timur was in there with you. He mentioned you didn’t share much about your background, but he knew you were with the Kislev bratva, so he didn’t pry. The less you know, right?”
Once I realized Sergey planned to leave me incarcerated, I was terrified someone would discover I was persona non grata and take me out to curry favor with him. So I cultivated an aura of mystique, as though my sentence was part of some bigger plan, and that was enough to keep the climbers off my back.
“Did you get that scar in jail?” Sissi asks, pointing to my face. “You could have lost that eye.”
“That happened when I was eighteen during a fight that escalated. He had a knife, I didn’t, and it resulted in this scar. I came out better in the end.”
It’s a significant lie, but only of omission; the small amount of info I’m giving is factually accurate. The event was far worse, with infinitely more devastating consequences than a scar.
I could have turned my back, closed my ears and heart, and pretended it wasn’t happening, yet I didn’t. Would I have done differently if I’d foreseen what consequences I’d have to bear?
No. Through all the disgusting food, fights, days in solitary, back-breaking work, and grinding, galling boredom, I regretted nothing.
To get out, I’d have had to testify to an extent that would destroy the family. No level of blackmail or bribe could have undone a betrayal on that scale, but I wouldn’t do it, and it wasn’t just because I loved Vlad. There were other reasons.
Vlad never asked for the full story behind my scar, and I prefer to keep it to myself. The truth would break his heart and magnify his guilt for allowing their father to torment Lilyana for so long.
“So, what brings you here this morning?” I ask Sissi, hoping to steer the conversation elsewhere.
“We were discussing the Moretti issue.”
It takes a moment for me to realize he’s not referring to the recent incident with Aldo and my car but rather his own predicament.
“Oh, the trouble you’ve been having with their people? We went over this, Don Barone.”
“Yes,” Sissi says. “But you’re not the pakhan. I thought it’d be better to bring it to Vlad’s attention.” He laughs at my frown. “Don’t worry. When your plan works, and you’re the boss, I’ll show you the deference you deserve.”
Vlad’s glance is as cold and gray as a nuclear winter. “Plan?”
“I’m just joking, Vladimir,” Sissi says. “Arman here will be your brother-in-law in less than twenty-four hours. Exciting times! Shame that certain people insist on being assholes. You should work on bringing your allies closer.”
What is his angle here? I remember what Timur said about Sissi wanting more influence in New York. Perhaps he’s frustrated with Vlad’s slow pace, but he needs to understand that patience will pay off. Sissi is fortunate to be in the city as Vlad’s guest, and with time and tact, his position will improve. Vlad isn’t a man who tolerates being pushed.
“You’re busy,” I say. “I’ll address this matter after the wedding, Vlad. You can count on me.”
“Stick around, brat.” Vlad gives me a nod. “I won’t be long.”
“Of course,” I reply, closing the door behind me. As I leave, I overhear Sissi’s comment to Vlad.
