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Ah, okay, so they aren't talking about the elections anymore. I clear my throat and nod, taking a sip of my whiskey. "Yeah, we cleared the area, why?"
"There are rumors that Gerardo is mad about it," George says with a smirk, leaning on the counter, and I can't help but laugh. It's good to know that the Bratva cares about Escarra's feelings as little as we do.
"Great! It's an honor to spoil his day, isn't it?"
I look around and find Sergei in the hallway, talking to Riccardo. He's frowning with a rather cold and distant expression on his face, but over the past four months I've learned that he's not always grim or unhappy about something. It's just his neutral expression, but when you get to know him closer, you realize that Sergei is just a quiet and cool guy.
"Hey, Sergei!" He blinks and looks up at me in confusion, prompting Riccardo to look my way as well. "Did you hear that? Looks like we pissed Gerardo off yesterday."
Riccardo chuckles at that, and even Sergei smiles a little and nods. He's not the expressive type—unlike someone else in the room.
"I'm sorry to disappoint you,querido," Jacinta suddenly interjects from the other side of the kitchen and straightens up, pointing at me with Luna’s spoon. "But it's not that big of a deal. I used to piss him off twice every week when I was fifteen."
She quirks an eyebrow at me with a joking challenge, and I chuckle. The difference between Jacinta’s hot temperament and the Russians' ever-cold facade is still killing me. And they still manage to find a common language! Mostly because Jacinta doesn't care about their attitude, and I love her for it.
"So it sounds like you were an exceptional daughter." I meet her challenge with my own smirk, and Jacinta immediately puts her hands on her hips.
"Are you trying to offend me, Louis Messina?"
But before our bickering grows, Luna whines out loud and waves her arms, demanding her puree. Jacinta immediately turns back to her with gentle cooing on her lips, and I count myself as a winner of the nonexistent argument.
I turn back to George and Matteo, but they're discussing something else already—apparently, there's a new app that can help them keep track of all intercepted calls in one place—so I decide to sneak away and take a better look around.
Sasha, Elena, and Irina are still together in the living room, now talking to each other over the kids' heads with smiles on their faces. Ever since Sasha's natural hair color returned, their family connection has been more obvious. The three of them look similar: postured, blonde, with bright eyes and cold features. Still, call me biased, but I think Sasha is the most beautiful in the room, and something in my heart tightens at the thought.
God, I can't wait till everyone leaves, Misha goes to bed, and I can finally pull Sasha into bed to…do things I'm not supposed to think about at a children's party.
I clear my throat and look away from her, allowing my gaze to dart over the people around me. Paolo and Natalia, George’s wife, are making drinks in the kitchen while Sergei joins George and Matteo after Riccardo gets a call and goes outside. The kids are playing with dragons and board games on the fluffy carpet in the living room, and through the big window behind them I see the snow melting under the afternoon sun.
The smell of spring is in the air, and I can’t help a smile as a sense of peace fills my chest.
God, it still feels surreal how everything has changed over the last few months. Could I imagine celebrating my son’s birthday with the Russians? Could I even think about invitingthemintomyhouse? Even after Riccardo and Elena’s marriage, I was cautious and refused to trust the Bratva’s word—and in a way, I was right. Yuriy had never taken our deal seriously.
But Olga is different. She decided to rule over the Pushkov family not with cruelty but with an emphasis on cooperation and mutual respect. She doesn’t scare her subordinates into obedience—she treats them fairly and doesn’t abuse her power, gaining the Bratva’s loyalty in return.
Of course, it doesn’t mean that things have been smooth for her. Not everyone in the Mafia world—or even in her own family—is willing to accept Olga as the new leader of the Russian Bratva, so they’ve experienced quite a few betrayals and attacks from outsiders. But Olga stayed true to her word and re-signed and expanded the alliance with us. And in return, we helped her through the first months of her rulership.
The relationships between the Messina Clan and the Russian Bratva are stronger than ever now, and the scene in front of me proves it even further. Sergei has become some kind of a friend of mine while George and Natalia’s children, Tina and Vlad, got to know Misha and Romeo at Max’s birthday and all five of them quickly found a common ground.
God, I can’t even explain how good it feels to see Misha in the circle of close friends. To be honest, at first I was worried that with his closed personality he wouldn’t be able to find friends at school or around the neighborhood. But with Matteo and Romeo living a few streets away from us, Max going to the same tae kwon do section, and all three of them going to one school, things quickly got better. And if their friendship with Tina and Vlad lasts, it will only solidify our alliance with the Russians!
I smile to myself just thinking about it when someone nudges my shoulder. Sasha lingers by my side with an empty plate and eyes me with a cheeky smirk. “Hey, handsome. What are you thinking about?”
I look at her, and my gaze automatically darts over her face. Sasha is wearing pretty makeup, the earrings I bought her last week, and a new blouse that shows her neck and collarbones, and…ah, why does she have to be so damn beautiful?
“You,” I mutter, completely forgetting about my previous thoughts, and she chuckles and shakes her head. But I can see fondness in her eyes when she leans in to press her shoulder against mine for a second.
“You’re so silly, Louis Messina.”
I don’t know if it’s supposed to be a compliment, but it makes me feel proud. Sasha continues on her way to the kitchen, but I’m still standing in the hallway, grinning like an idiot, when the front door opens a few feet away from me.
“Look who’s here,” Riccardo announces, holding the door for the new guest, and I laugh and gesture for Olga to come in.
“I’m glad you made it!”
“Hi, Louis.” Olga smiles a little, and maybe I’m seeing things, but she looks almost shy. “I can’t stay for long, but I didn’t want to miss Misha’s birthday.”
“Sure, I understand. Misha, come here! Do you want something to drink?”
