Chapter 1
Katia
Two months after Nick proposed to Alexis
Isat in my office, the sound of my red manicured fingernails tapping on my laptop as I scrolled through the reconciliation program on my accounting software. I’d remodeled the office at the Gilded Cage years ago, and it was basically my second home. A plush purple couch lined one wall, while the air conditioner I’d begged Michael for hummed in the opposite window. Now that I’d turned forty, places in my body I’d rarely known existed sometimes overheated, and the air conditioner offered welcome respite.
I leaned back in my comfortable leather office chair as I stretched. I’d been sitting a lot today, and I needed to remember to keep my blood flowing.
Sighing, I looked at my phone, realizing I’d forgotten to order dinner again. I usually ordered delivery from one of the nearby restaurants when I worked late, but I was finally getting the hang of the new encrypted accounting system Alexis had recently installed, so I’d been too focused on my work to notice my growling stomach.
“Might as well finish up and just get something on the way home, Katia,” I murmured to myself.
The words had the slightest accent to them, left over from my childhood in Estonia. My mother had taught me her native Russian while my father had spoken Estonian. I’d spoken bothlanguages, along with English, which had been helpful when both of my parents died of an overdose when I was sixteen.
Although I’d been old enough to make it on my own, my sister, Elena, was only thirteen when they died. We had no remaining family, and I agreed to move into an orphanage in Northeast Estonia to stay by her side. Little had I known that decision would lead to an unbearable amount of heartache and pain.
Pushing away the sad thoughts of the past, I refocused on my laptop. I needed to document last week’s deposits, and then I could go home and rest.
The vague thumping of music from outside barely reached my ears as I worked. Michael’s clubs ran like clockwork most of the time, although there had been some bumps as he’d taken over Victor Rossi’s empire.
Now, Victor was dead, and Michael Caruso was the most powerful mafia boss in the Mid-Atlantic and Northeast corridors. His alliance with Sal DeLorenzo in Boston had solidified his power, and I hoped this meant things would be smooth for a while.
Still, a scant amount of worry lingered in my gut. Over the years, I’d learned that the appearance of peace almost certainly meant strife was around the corner. Shivering, I rubbed my arms and hoped this time would be different.
I’d certainly experienced some trying times after my parents died, leaving me in a squalid orphanage with Elena. She’d gotten herself involved with some bad men who’d trafficked her to America. I’d followed her to the States, determined to save her.
Unfortunately, I was too late and ended up losing the only person I had left on the planet. Although the pain had lessened to a dull ache over the years, living without Elena would always be a horrible cross to bear.
I’d met Michael when I was in my early twenties; distraught, broken and alone. He’d just opened the Gilded Cage, creating a business that wassomewhatlegitimate, and had offered me the opportunity to dance.
Was it my lifelong dream to be a stripper in a club owned by the mafia? It certainly hadn’t been on my bingo card; that was for damn sure. But Michael had honor and vowed his club would be different. He employed single mothers, former trafficking victims, and recovering drug addicts who needed a second chance. I found it admirable, and left with no other choices, I took the job.
Surprisingly, I loved exotic dancing. It kept me fit and bolstered my confidence as men threw gobs of money at me just to watch me writhe on stage. Michael’s bouncers and security team ensured the clientele remained respectful, and soon, I was making more money than I’d ever imagined possible.
Michael eventually opened more clubs in Brooklyn and Queens, intent on growing his legal businesses to cover the activities of the ones that skirted the law. As his empire grew, I worried he might become drunk with power and lose the morality I admired, but thankfully, he remained steadfast in his honor and loyalty.
Several years into my employment, I stood at the bar at the Gilded Cage, chugging water down my parched throat before my next set. Michael appeared beside me, his jaw clenched as he asked the bartender for a scotch. Feeling my lips curve, I remembered the conversation that changed my life’s path...
“You don’t usually drink when you’re here,” I said, arching an eyebrow. “Bad day?”
“You could say that,” he said before sipping his drink. “My accountant has been embezzling from me.”
“Yikes.” I bit my lip, wondering if I should pry. “I bet he’s not happy he got caught.”
His lips formed a humorless smirk. “Nick’s first task as my new top capo will be breaking his kneecaps.”
I pursed my lips. “Don’t embezzle from Michael Caruso if you want to keep your kneecaps intact,” I murmured. “Got it.”
Michael’s expression remained droll, even if his lips curved slightly at my teasing.
The bartender strode over and held up two empty bottles. “Boss, we’re running through vodka like water. We’ve been ordering cases of fifths, but I think cases of handles might be better.”
“Lucia’s right,” I said with a nod. I’d observed the way the various bar managers had ordered for years and always thought the liquor consumption could be run more efficiently. “Even though handles come in cases of six, they hold more liters, or ounces if you want to use the imperial system. So, ordering a handle case is going to get you three hundred and sixty ounces of vodka, where a case of twelve fifths of liquor is only going to get you about three hundred and four ounces.”
Michael turned to fully face me, surprise covering his features. “That’s a difference of...”
“Fifty-six ounces,” I said, quickly computing the numbers in my head. “Well, technically, a case of twelve fifths is three hundred and four point eight ounces, so you’ll get fifty-five point two ounces more.”
