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CHAPTERONE
The bus smelled like urine, and I was sure that its sticky seats were covered in other unmentionable bodily fluids. They were a burnt orange color, and I suspected they had not been cleaned since the 1970’s.
I was going to have to burn the Dior dress I was wearing when I got home. I was certain that the smell was never going to come out. Plus, the germs…I shuddered. It was going in the garbage. Immediately.
A loud cackle startled me, and I hugged my designer bag closer to my body. I probably should have worn something more low-key. After all, I was visiting a prison, not Barney’s.
But my wardrobe was far from low-key. Though I was different from the silly eighteen-year-old who cried at the altar in a frilly dress her parents had picked out, some things about me were still the same, and my love of dresses remained.
“Are you sure that you want to do this?” Dom asked.
It took me a moment to respond to my husband. When I told him of my plan, he had argued against it, but finally, when I threatened to go myself, he relented.
Now that I was on the bus, I kind of wish that he hadn’t.
“It’s fine,” I said, holding my breath. “The smell is just getting to me.”
That was an understatement. I was trying not to gag as the stench became greater and greater, made worse by New York’s summer humidity.
If I was smart, I would have escaped to the Hamptons with the rest of my family, but instead I’d stayed behind, wanting to deal with this situation.
But as the van got closer and closer, I felt myself beginning to second guess what I was doing.
“It’ll be over soon,” Dom told me, reaching out to take me by the hand. “Try to breathe through your nose.”
I was not surprised that my husband was familiar with the route they were taking. As head of the Blanchi family, the Italian mob outlet in New York, he had done his fair share of prison visits.
Taking a deep breath, I tried not to think about that. I had grown up in the mob. As the daughter to the Russian Pakhan, I knew better than most what type of life a mafia wife led, but it was always something I ignored.
“You know that we can turn back around,” Dom said, his deep voice invading my thoughts. “You do not owe me a damn thing.”
“I know. This is not about me.”
I pressed my hand to me stomach. It was still mostly flat, but I could feel the soft curve of a burgeoning bump under my clothing. I was pregnant with my second child, a son, and something about finding out I would be giving birth to a boy frightened me.
“I need answers,” I reiterated. “There’s still so much that we don’t know.”
Dom released a heavy sigh. I knew why. Things were quiet these days. After nearly three years of chaos, there was peace between the families. A true peace, and now I could be opening a can of worms.
“I don’t know what types of answers you are looking for. We’ve gotten everything we are going to get from your brother.”
I bit my lip as I thought about Nikolai. My brother, who’d I’d been forced to lose twice, had been brainwashed and manipulated since birth by the very person that I was going to see.
When I’d told him about my plan, he too had cautioned me against it.
Nikolai was serving a life sentence for his crimes, which he deserved. After all, he did try to kill me, and he had shot his girlfriend Anastasia, but I still could not help but wonder how different things might have been for both of us if we had a different mother.
“I just need to know why,” I whispered. My mouth was dry, and I felt my hands shaking slightly.
Dom released a heavy sigh before taking my hand in his own. “I just don’t want you to get hurt.”
I said nothing to that. There was not much that could be said. Unfortunately, I could not assure my husband that I would not be harmed. Even in prison, my mother’s influence ran deep. Important and dangerous people still knew her, and some still believed that she should be the Pakhan of the Bratva.
Before I could say anything, the bus came to a stop.
“This is us,” Dom said. I could hear the worry in his voice, and I felt a pain in my chest knowing that I had given him reason to feel unsettled. Dom had enough going on in life, and he did not need me adding to it. “Sasha?”
I looked over at him. Dom was standing in the aisle of the bus. The other families had already departed. He held his hand out to me, and for a moment, I simply stared at it.
