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"Thanks, I'll take a couple."
I join Lili at the table, and Dulcie sits too. She pours my coffee first before fixing a cup for herself.
"I'll eat the last few," she says. "Mr. Kislev doesn't like waste. Sergey, that is. I look forward to my Vladi being the master of the house."
"Is Sergey tough to work for?" I ask, adding sugar to my coffee.
Dulcie frowns. "He's not a pleasant man. And I should know—I've worked for the family for almost fifty years." She sees my expression and laughs. "I know,bella ragazza. I am youthful, no?" She tosses her hair like a model, drawing a giggle from Lilyana. "Vladi's mother, Stefania, brought me from Italy as her maid. I was eighteen, and she was a little older. She married Sergey at her father's behest to prevent a war between her family and his."
What a world they live in. Lives hijacked in the name of money and power.
"So you've known Vlad his whole life?"
"Yes." She sighs. "He was his mother's heart. She didn't have love in her marriage, so she poured it into her boy, and his father resented them both for it. They had something he envied and despised, and although Sergey tried, he couldn't ruin it. Not while Stefania was still alive, anyway."
I glance at Lilyana. It must be tough for her to hear about the mother she never knew.
"Anyway," Dulcie says, getting to her feet, "I will tell Sasha you're almost ready to go. An important day for you!"
Her kind face instills me with courage, and I ask a bold question.
"Your mistress was forced to marry into this family, and you know how she suffered. Yet you seem delighted for me. Aren't I in exactly the same boat?"
Dulcie smiles. "You are not,mia caro. Things will be different for you."
"Why?"
She puts her hand over mine. "Because no matter how hard he tries, Vladi is not his father. You'll see."
15
Vlad
Serra is at breakfast. The fat bastard isn't intelligent enough to vary his habits, so it took Arman less than ten minutes to find out where he'd be this morning.
I'm wound up, and killing Serra will make me feel better, but I won't accost him in the restaurant. I need privacy.
Morgana has me messed up. I could have silenced her in seconds this morning if I'd told her what happened last night. She was so vulnerable, so different from the spitfire of a girl I'd been tussling with. Humiliating her into compliance would make my life much easier, so why didn't I press my advantage?
The truth pushes to the front of my mind, refusing to be denied.
Because I don'twantto crush her. I crave the challenge. She doesn't want me, but I'm obsessed with changing her mind.
Serra appears in the restaurant's doorway, wiping egg yolk from his mouth with his sleeve. He crosses the road in front of my parked car and gets into his own, pulling away from the curb. I move into the traffic behind him, a safe four cars back.
I don't know if he would recognize me, but I know him—he's a nasty, petty crook who will shift anything for the right price. A couple of years back, he tried to sell one of our shipments from under us, and Sasha gave him one chance to admit it before kicking the ever-loving shit out of him. I don't know what's happening here, but I need to get to the bottom of it and not sleepwalk into a disaster.
A short drive brings us to a townhouse just off Columbus Avenue. I drive past to allay suspicion, and Serra's car is parked outside when I return. He's at the front door, fumbling for a key.
I lurk, waiting until he gets the door open, then rush him, slamming into his back. He grunts as he hits the floor, and I close the door.
"Vito Serra, good morning. Do you know me?"
Serra rolls over and squints. Recognition flashes in his eyes.
"What the fuck is your problem?"
This man tried to beat Morgana. There's no fucking way he's gonna survive an encounter with me, but I need him to believe otherwise at first.
