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I know the answer, of course: they see what I see. Far from the ignored young wallflower she once was, she has blossomed. Now she’s older and even more beautiful, and men look at her in ways I can’t tolerate.
Sasha darts onto the stage and grabs my shoulders. “Steady, tovarishch,” he says. “Don’t do it.”
Moretti footsoldiers gather on the stage, waiting to see how the scene unfolds. Vlad specifically told us to keep it civil, as he doesn’t want these Morettis to have a genuine reason to retaliate. I don’t care about that, but we’re outnumbered here.
“You prick,” Aldo snaps, rubbing his head. “I congratulated the girl on her performance, and the next thing I knew, you were on me like an animal!”
“Bullshit, Aldo. Stay away from Lilyana.” I clench my fists but stay where I am, and Sasha’s grip on my shoulder relaxes. “She isn’t for you. If you want a treat on your birthday, then get a fucking cake.” I take a stack of bills from my pocket and toss them at him. “I’ll even pay for it; call it my present. I’d rather break your jaw, but unlike you, I can delay my gratification when needed.”
Sasha lets go of my shoulders and takes Lilyana’s hand. “Home, mladshaya sestra,” he says to her. Then he thumps me on the back. “You too, brat. The company here is lousy anyway.”
The next morning...
Vlad is back early, and he’s pissed. The truce with the Morettis is probably trashed, and I doubt I’m Vlad’s favorite person right now, so I loiter in the kitchen of the Kislev mansion until he deigns to receive me.
I expect fallout from what happened at the party, but I have no regrets. The bastard came out of nowhere and got in Lilyana’s face, and she didn’t even know him. The entitlement of these mob assholes is off the charts, and it shows in the attitude of dirty old men like Aldo.
Vlad calls for me, but I wait until my coffee is ready; I’m not a dog. I know better than to push my luck too far, so I pour him a cup and carry it to his study to find him standing at the window in his customary weight-of-the-world stance.
“You look fantastic for a man of sixty,” I say, handing him the coffee, “so it’s a shame you’re only forty-eight. You been up all night?”
“Yep.” Vlad isn’t for baiting today. “Tell me what happened.”
“Aldo made a pass at Lilyana,” I reply. “He was being a real creep, talking about knocking her up and making a claim to your bratva.”
“Giovanni is in Sicily, so Aldo is in charge. He tried to tell me a different story.” Vlad pinches the bridge of his nose with a sigh. “But you did jail time in my place for ten damn years. I believe you, not him.” He sips his coffee. “I’ve been in conference with the komissiya for hours.”
“Why?”
“I’m their leader, not a dictator. We have precedents, votes, all that shit. I can’t change the rules to suit me; if I tried, they’d vote me out and nominate a new leader.”
“What does this have to do with Lili?” I ask.
“I told her I’d never force her to marry. Swore it, in fact.” Vlad slumps into an armchair and closes his eyes. “But I shouldn’t have made that promise. You know how legacies work, right?”
I sure do. In the bratva, blood is everything—blood that’s shed and shared. Legacies depend on passing leadership down through the generations; most marriages are arranged with mutual agreement. In some situations, the forced marriage clause serves as a measure to prevent illegitimate heirs from claiming a stake in the family, which could lead to power struggles. That’s why the komissiya insists on ratifying pregnancies out of wedlock with a wedding.
“Oh fuck,” I say.
“You’re getting the picture.” Vlad sounds stricken with fear. “I thought protecting Lili meant ensuring she never left my guardianship, but I was wrong. It’s not just that she wants more from life; there are men out there who know that they could force themselves into the family by seducing Lili, manipulating her into a pregnancy, and instigating a bullshit marriage. Which is presumably why my asshole father worked so hard to make people believe she was defective.”
I feel like I’m gonna throw up. “Vlad, I gotta tell you—her buddy Seb tried to rape her the other night.” Vlad throws me a furious glare, and I raise a hand. “She was okay. I got to them in time. Seb won’t be a problem anymore.”
“Fuck. You see, this is exactly my point.” Vlad rubs his face with his palm. “She’s naive. Seb succeeded in hoodwinking her into believing he was on the level. Can you imagine what an ambitious bratva or mafia guy might be able to do to her? And the clause stands because an illegitimate heir is a threat regardless of the circumstances of the conception.”
“And the komissiya wouldn’t make an exception for her?”
“No. I tried it every which way.”
“Jesus, Vlad.” I sit opposite him. “What a fucking twisted world we live in.”
“Neither you nor I can guard her twenty-four-seven and still let her live her life.” Vlad slams his cup on the table, spilling the coffee. “Aldo Moretti is just the beginning. If someone were to swindle their way into her heart, they’d use her to get into the family. She’s too vulnerable to withstand that kind of manipulation.” I see the pain in his eyes. “I don’t know how to keep her safe and give her the freedom she wants.”
A crazy idea is coalescing in my mind. I have to take my shot now while Vlad is despairing and potentially willing to consider anything.
“You want to protect Lili,” I say. “So do I. So hear me out—what if I marry her?”
Vlad’s expression is murderous. “What the fuck?” he snaps.
