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“How?” Eden asks, eager to hear anything about her past.
“We put you and your father up in one of our safe houses,” replies Vito. “We helped with documents, gave your father a new identity, and scrubbed the trail clean,” Vito smirks when he looks at me. “Gennady wasn’t going to find Eden or her father until Zakhar wanted to be found.”
“Why?” Eden’s tone is pressing. “Why did you help my father—the Avtoritet of your enemy? Why were you willing to help us?”
“Have you heard nothing, Edie?” Vito’s expression softens. “Because I love my family. Aria was among the best of us. I knew she was making a big mistake, and I should’ve said something to Christian before she eloped. But I didn’t, and not a single day goes by that I don’t regret that decision.” Vito gazes past Eden as he recalls that fatal day. “Eighteen years ago, I went to help Aria and Zakhar run from their house in Long Island. The Starukhin brigadiers wanted control of the Bratva, and Zakhar was in their way, so they made him look like the villain for marrying her.”
Eden is silent for only a moment. “I know the brigadiers murdered my mother. But I don’t know which one pulled the trigger. But you can’t tell me the Lanzzare are innocent in all this!”
Vito senses Eden’s increasing bitterness. “We’re not what you think we are,” he speaks softly. “And neither is your father.”
“What does that mean?” she snaps.
“They knew that only one could make it.” Vito’s gaze narrows on us, conveying gravity. “One died to save the other and you. Your mother was a brave woman, Eden. And these are the men you trust, Starukhin. Three men who turned against their friend because he married the wrong woman.”
Vito shakes out the worn cloth napkin on the table and tosses it on his lap. “Zakhar doesn’t have kind things to say about Gunsyn Bolotov, Alexander Vorobyov, or the late Ippolit Tsarnaev. It’s to be expected, of course. They betrayed him, after all.” Vito eyes me. “And he believes they’re betraying you right now.”
I scoff. “So far, he’s the only one trying to kill me.”
“Those three men spoke shit to your father,” Vito points his finger at me, “and you shouldn’t trust the two remaining.”
The conversation ceases abruptly in uneasy silence as Vince returns to the table. Bianchi has the good sense to only speak to Vince and has kept quiet while Vito talks. Bianchi places our orders while Vito glances over at the game, though he hasn’t shown any interest before.
I don’t give a damn who’s playing and glance over at Eden. She clenches and unclenches her fists under the table, seeking some small measure of control.
Idly, I wonder if I will leave here alive. Maybe Zakhar is hiding in the back, taking aim at the back of my head.
We break bread—a warm garlic loaf—and dip it in olive oil mixed with a bit of sea salt. Vito toasts to our health, aware that the bar is casually watching us. Another level of tension peels away as the spaghetti is served. But the overflowing plates sit untouched as the red sauce pools around the rims. Only Bianchi has an appetite and uses his big mouth to eat.
So much for the best burgers in Manhattan.
Vito returns to the conversation. “I’ll talk to Zakhar and tell him to pull back. But there are no guarantees. I’m not his keeper.”
“But his actions benefit you,” I reply coldly.
I eye Bianchi, who has the nerve to smile as he stuffs his mouth. Relaxing, I toss my napkin onto my lap, knowing that if these two men were up to no good, they wouldn’t bother to touch their food. Big carb meals slow down your aim.
Vito cuts a meatball in half as he speaks. “Zakhar just wants his daughter back.” He pauses his fork. “I understand his feelings,Starukhin. You should speak to him. He can tell you a lot more than I can. Fill in the details that I don’t have. Details that you’ll want to know. Details that might even save your life one day.”
Under the table, I grip Eden’s hand, and she closes her mouth. She was on the verge of speaking. And I know what she wants, but she has to let me handle this.
“Zakhar has made it clear that he would rather kill me than speak to me.” I relent a little for Eden’s sake. “But now that you’ve seen Eden, you can tell him that she wants to be with me, something that he isn’t convinced of.”
Vito nods. “I can extend the olive branch, that’s all. We don’t need any more chaos than we already have between us. Despite Zakhar’s antics, we aren’t willing to enter a full-blown war.” Vito’s gaze shifts from me to Eden, and his eyes narrow. “I had hoped my daughter would be with you.”
Eden speaks up quickly. “She’s safe, Uncle Vito. The Bratvas won’t dare touch her while she’s under Nikolai’s protection. We were concerned the guests might take their revenge on her after what happened …” her voice catches, “at our wedding.”
Vito sternly watches Eden and smiles, but the warmth is missing. “My daughter would’ve also been safe under my protection. You should know that, my niece.” Vito addresses me. “And do you think keeping her away from her father will help the situation?”
“Mercy is insurance,” I speak firmly and honestly. “I need to make sure everyone stays calm until Zakhar is subdued.”
Vito scoffs loudly. “Interesting strategy,” He grins at Eden. “Are you okay with your father being subdued?”
Eden pauses, and I squeeze her hand under the table. If Vito finds out that Eden took a bullet meant for me from her father’s gun, hell will be the only place Zakhar can hide. She knows how it will end for her father if the Lanzzare also turn against him. Eden says nothing. Not even about our child.
“I want to marry Nikolai.” Her voice is solid as she speaks with conviction to her uncle. “I’m not being forced.”
Vito nods as he takes a bite of pasta. “I heard about the baby.”
