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A flicker of emotion crosses his face, something resembling suspicion or irritation as his eyes narrow, and his gaze shifts to look over my shoulder. Before I can step back to invite him in, his hand reaches up to shove the door open wide, and he steps past me into the apartment. I turn to follow, closing the door behind him as I try to understand his mood. He’s clearly not happy about something, which is so completely opposite to the anticipation I’ve felt over seeing him upon his return from Russia. But apparently he’s back, and this is the first I’m hearing about it.
“Is everything okay?” I ask as he leads the way into the living room, his eyes scanning the space like he’s going to find something there.
He releases an aggravated sigh and turns to face me. “Sorry. I just came from my sister’s, where she pretty much tried to bar me from entering her apartment because she had guests she knew I wouldn’t be happy about.” He sits heavily on the living room couch and rests his elbows on his knees as his scowl intensifies.
“And you came here thinking I would do the same thing?” I ask as his suspicious expression suddenly makes more sense.
“It’s just… the way you answered the door gave me a strong sense of deja vu.” His dark eyes raise to meet mine.
“Well, I do have friends over on occasion,” I say, quirking an eyebrow. “But none that would upset you.”
“Why are you all dressed up?” His eyes comb down my body, the suspicion returning.
“You said you were out of town and the twins wanted to go dancing. We’re supposed to go to Danza.”
“The twins?” he growls, the tendons popping in his jaw.
“Yeah, Tammy and Tori. What other twins are there?” I ask in exasperation. I don’t know what’s got him wound so tight, but he’s clearly looking for a fight.
“Oh, right.” His tone drops as his shoulders relax visibly.
“Seriously, Ilya, what is going on? You never just show up at my door unexpectedly, let alone so worked up.” I cross my arms defensively, bracing for another sharp response.
Instead, Ilya sighs heavily and scrubs his face with his hands before slumping back against the couch. His head falls back so he can look up at the ceiling, and he’s dangerously quiet for several seconds.
“I’ll text the girls and let them know I can’t make it,” I say. Striding back to my room, I shoot a quick text letting them know Ilya showed up at my house unexpectedly.
Seconds later, they respond with a suggestive stream of emojis, followed by Tammy’s snarkyI’d totally ditch you bitches too if it meant having steamy welcome-home sex with a Russian hottie. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!Several winky emojis follow shortly, and I snort before setting my phone back on my dresser and heading out to face Ilya once more. I get the feeling tonight’s not going to be what Tammy’s picturing. Ilya seems pissed. More so than I think I’ve ever seen before.
When I enter the living room again, Ilya looks like he’s regained some of his composure, and he’s watching me expectantly.
“You want to talk about it?” I ask mildly, coming to sit next to him on the couch and folding my bare feet up underneath me.
That’s all it takes for the floodgates to open. “Bianka can just be so frustrating sometimes. She’s hard-headed and reckless–she doesn’t listen to a word I say, even though I give her everything she ever asks for. I pay for her school, her car, her clothes, her apartment, and all I ask is that she respect me enough to do as I say. I don’t constantly interfere with her life. I hardly ever tell her what to do! She promised me she wouldn’t take any unnecessary risks when I warned her about the dangers of going to Rosehill in the first place, and here she is, blatantly disregarding her promise.”
“What’s so dangerous about Rosehill?” I ask, surprised by the vehemence in Ilya’s tone.
“It’s smack dab in the middle of Marchetti territory! They all but own the school and fund the majority of the dance department,” he growls, his legs bouncing as his elbows come to rest on his knees once more.
“Oh. Right. And… they are?” The name sounds familiar. I think I’ve had a class with a guy named Nicolo Marchetti. He came across as a proper dick from what I remember, but I know little else about him, certainly not his family.
“They’re mafia. Part of an old Italian family that’s had roots in Chicago for a very long time. And they all but own the northern side of the city, so Bianka’s presence here–and mine, for that matter–is only acceptable for as long as the Marchettis say it is. As the head of a Bratva, having my sister crossing boundaries into mafia territory could easily be construed as disrespectful, aggressive even, and that can lead to people getting shot–like my father was.”
My eyes widen as I’m momentarily struck dumb by Ilya’s words. I remember him telling me he took over aspakhanwhen his father was killed over a territory dispute, but Ilya’s never gone into detail about it. He’s never mentioned it beyond our first night together, and suddenly, I’m burning with curiosity to know more. “The Marchettis killed your father?” I ask breathlessly.
“No. If they did, I would have wiped them from the face of the earth–like I did the Bratva whodidshoot him. But the Marchettis are a formidable family. They’re far stronger than the snakes who killed my father, and a war with the mafia would be far bloodier.”
The hair rises on the back of my neck at the cold, factual way Ilya speaks about death and violence.
“They’re unpredictable and dangerous, and my Bratva’s alliance with them has been on shaky ground for decades now. Lorenzo Marchetti is as vicious as they come, and I wouldn’t put it past him to take offense at me and my sister crossing boundary lines if it suited his interests somehow. Our territories are dangerously close, which only makes tensions worse. It was a risk letting Bianka attend Rosehill in the first place, so I gave her permission with the clear understanding that she should keep her head down and avoid sparking any potential conflicts that could end in a territory war. And today, I found out that she’s been spending time with the Marchetti twins! Hosting them at her house like they’re just everyday college kids! Those boys are dangerous, doubly so because I don’t think they’re mature enough to understand the weight their name holds. She’s playing with fire, and I can’t decide if it’s because she likes the rush or if she just enjoys pissing me off.”
Now I get why he got so bent out of shape about me saying I was going dancing with the twins tonight. His mind probably went straight to the Marchettis.I push the thought aside as Ilya shoves off the couch to pace along the wall of windows looking out at the lakefront below. I follow him with my eyes, shocked by the heat of his anger rolling off of him in waves.
“And making friends with the Marchetti twins wouldn’t help strengthen that alliance?” I offer gently, trying to diffuse his anger at his sister.
Ilya combs his fingers through his thick curls and turns to look at me, his dark eyes thoughtful. “It could. But it’s not worth the risk. Lorenzo Marchetti is too unpredictable. His eldest son, Nicolo, I don’t know well enough to gauge if he could be an asset or a liability. And from what little I’ve observed of the twins, they’re careless and young, as likely to haphazardly stumble across a landmine as they are to safely diffuse it.”
From what I’ve observed of Nicolo, I wouldn’t bank on him being any help to Ilya’s cause. His own interests seem to come first. I’m starting to see why Ilya’s so upset. But more than that, as he comes to sit beside me on the couch once more, I’m amazed to find how open he’s being about his concerns.
