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“There is no reason to prove anything to me, Kolya.” She lets go and quietly disappears down the hallway as I watch her. I release a pent-up breath and mourn a past when I was clueless.
I shut the office door, staring at the envelope as I walk to my desk. The tape is too thick for my silver letter opener, so I have to open it with a box cutter. A burner phone falls on the desk, and I press the button on the side.
There’s only one number in the contacts.
A voice answers as soon as I call it. “Nikolai Starukhin?”
“Yes,” I recognize the voice, but I want him to confirm it. “Who’s speaking?”
Laughter erupts as the man throws back his head. “Luigi Bianchi, your old friend.”
I smirk. “Not dead yet?”
“I guess you’ll have to do it yourself,” he replies smoothly. “My boss, Christian Genovesi, sends a message.”
“Not in person?” I ask.
“I like the rest of my fingers,” he says. “And my orders are to kill you the next time I see you. So, you can see how that presents some … difficulties.” He sighs. “But to business. The woman you’re holding matters a great deal to Genovesi. You’ve made him very angry. And the threats you made … made him even angrier.” Bianchi laughs. “So not only does her father want you dead, but the whole family wants you dead.”
I know what he means by family. He means the Lanzzare. “Is that all?” I scoff as if it’s second nature.
“Genovesi has put a price on your head,” Bianchi explains. “He’s convinced you’ve already touched the girl because you Russians have no sense of class or decorum. So now, he wants to cut off your hands while you watch. Make you beg for death while you bleed out and then feed you in pieces to his dogs. Like your bitch of a brother.”
My breathing picks up. “You can tell Genovesi?—”
Bianchi cuts me off. “I’m not your errand boy, Starukhin. You’re nothing but scum to me. You went after family. And there will be consequences for that.”
“Perhaps you should ask Genovesi about the familyhisboss went after,” I remind him. “And then we can talk about consequences.”
“Russian boys like their games, and now we will teach you our rules.” Bianchi’s voice becomes oily smooth as he purrs. “I hope she was worth it, Starukhin.”
The call disconnects, and my hand shakes with fury. My head is clear enough to prevent me from smashing the phone to bits against the wall. I grab a figurine of Cupid chasing Daphneoff the shelf and smash it to pieces on the floor. The priceless piece is crushed under my heel until the broken pieces are embedded in the wood floor.
It’s not about Eden. It was never about her. Matvei deserves his revenge, and they have forgotten the part they all played in it.
Suddenly, Ippolit’s ghost now whispers in my ear.
Budanov must’ve known that Matvei Gennadyevich would stand to take your place all those years ago. He must’ve tipped off Emilio about the hit. And in return …
Zakhar forgets what he has already done to me and my family. It’s not about Eden. It’s about him. I want him to pay, but I can only make him pay through her.
The phone skids across the desk as I toss it down and head out of the office door. I take the spiral steps two at a time. And before I can think, my actions take me into her room. I glance around at the art books covering the floor in stacks. I don’t understand the rhyme or reason for the piles, but that is no concern. I don’t see Eden until she exits the ensuite in a bathrobe. Eden wipes her damp hair off her face but freezes when she sees me glaring across the room.
“What do you want?” she asks roughly.
My head spins as I stare at her, and my anger turns into something that shocks my gut. Maybe it was an excuse to touch. And I doubt the necessity of my original plan. I should’ve locked her away and never looked at her. Lured Zakhar to an abandoned warehouse. A sniper could’ve ended this in days, but I chosethis.
To draw it out.
To make him suffer even for a little while as much as I suffered all those years ago.
And now, we’re all suffering.
62
EDEN
I was toldto wear a pretty dress, not by him, but by Dominika.
