be paradise….
Two minutes to noon.
I kept thinking about what Yuri had said. As his
surrogate daughter, I’d moderated Vasiliy, kept him
warm—kept him human. When I’d pushed him away,
Mikhail had stepped in to fill the void. He was gradually
turning Vasiliy into a monster, no better than him. When
Vasiliy had discovered my betrayal, it had pushed him
even closer to Mikhail. If I walked away, soon there’d be
nothing left of the man who’d raised me.
One minute to noon.
I opened the doors to the balcony and picked up my
bag. I took a long look at myself in the mirror….
And then I slowly put the bag down in the middle of the
floor and climbed down off the balcony without it.
* * *
Angelo let out a long sigh of relief when I ran up. He
pushed the cab’s door open for me, then slammed it as
soon as I was inside. “Go!” he told the cabbie. “Airport!”
Before I could speak, he gathered me into his arms and
his lips found mine. Those big, warm hands slid up to
tangle in my hair and he kissed me as if to make up for
every second we’d been apart. I melted against his
chest, his pecs like slabs of rock. God, he felt so good!
“But where’s your bag?” he asked when he finally broke
the kiss. Then he shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. We
can buy you new stuff.”
He looked so different. It was the first time I’d seen him
in anything other than a suit. He looked younger, as if a
massive weight had been lifted from his shoulders. How
could I possibly suggest that he take it back?
The cab sped on towards the airport. It was bliss, sitting
there beside him, soaking up the warmth from his body,
our whole lives before us...but inside, my soul was
screaming at me. Every minute that ticked by was
making it worse. Tell him, tell him, tell him!
“We can’t leave,” I said at last, my face buried in his
chest.
I felt him look down at me. “The hell we can’t.”
I swallowed. “I don’t have my passport.”
He pushed me back from him. “What?!”
I bit my lip. “I knew if I brought it, you’d talk me round.
We can’t leave.” I glanced out of the window. We were
on the highway, now, and the airport was close enough
that we could hear the jets in the distance. “We have to
talk.” I looked meaningfully at the cabbie—what I had to
say, I didn’t want to say in front of him.
Angelo was still staring at me, aghast. “Pull over,” he
told the cabbie at last.
The cabbie craned around. “Here?”
“Do it.”
The cabbie cursed and pulled over by the side of the
highway. Angelo tossed him some bills and we got out.
It wasn’t snowing, but a thick layer coated everything,
giving even the crash barriers beside the highway a soft
edge. The traffic was too loud for us to talk so I started
walking up the grassy rise that lay alongside the
highway. Angelo followed. “What is this bullshit?” he
asked.
I shook my head. “We can’t leave.”
He grabbed my arm and pulled me around to face him.
“Yes we can. We can go anywhere we want. Paris.
Rome. Fucking Kuala Lumpur!”
I couldn’t meet his eyes. Every cell in my body was
screaming at me to just go with him and, if I looked into
those brown and amber eyes one more time, I’d give in.
“You always told me how important this was. How
people need you in Little Italy. How it was your dad’s
legacy.” I pulled free and started walking up the rise
again.
“Fuck all that!” he snapped. “Maybe I was wrong.
Maybe it’s all just bullshit. You were right. Russians
aren’t any different to Italians. We shouldn’t be killing
each other.”
My heart was breaking. He’d changed so much, he’d
come around to everything I’d tried to convince him of,
and now I had to undo it all. Because the truth was, we
were both right. I reached the top of the rise: ahead, it
sloped steeply down to an empty field covered in crisp,
unbroken snow.
I took Angelo’s hand and led him down the slope with
me, the traffic noise dying away behind us. It felt
ridiculous, leading him along: he was so big and his
whole body was tense and straining with anger. He
could have so easily pulled away or towed me along
with him, but he followed. When I looked across at him,
the need I saw in his expression almost made me
crumble before I got a word out. All he wanted in the
entire world was for me to run away with him. Why
can’t I just go?
Because I’d finally figured out what my destiny was.
Vasiliy had been trying to tell me all along and I’d
refused to listen: I was a Malakov and I had a role to
play.
“We have to stay,” I said, “because we’re the only ones
who can stop this thing. I’m the only one who can come
between Mikhail and Vasiliy and get Vasiliy to talk
peace. You’re the only one who can control your guys
and stop this getting worse and worse.”
“Vasiliy hates me,” Angelo said. “He’ll never talk peace
with me. If I leave and someone new comes in, maybe
they’ll do better.”
We reached the bottom of the slope and stood looking
out across the field. It was surprisingly quiet here, the
hill doing a good job of blocking the traffic noise. “Who’ll
pick your replacement, if you leave?” I asked gently.
“My bosses. The Saints.”
“And will they pick someone who’ll talk peace? Or will
they pick someone who’ll keep the war going?”
I could see him struggling with it. He wanted to deny it,
but he knew I was right. “They hate the Russians. Shit.
They’ll keep it going until we’re all dead.”
I nodded. “And hundreds of Russians will die, too.”
Angelo stood and turned from me, his massive
shoulders hunched in rage. He suddenly turned and
kicked the snow, a huge fantail of it flying through the
air. “I don’t want this fucking job!” he bellowed. “Not
anymore! I just want you!”
“I never wanted to be a Malakov,” I said, lifting my chin.
“But I’ve finally realized that the only thing worse than
being involved in this stuff is running from it. We can’t
run because we’re part of it, Angelo. We’re holding up
the freakin’ building. If we run, like I tried to when I
came to New York, it all comes down.”
He took a long breath in. “What about us?” he said at
last.
“We wait. We go home and we do what we have to do.
I talk Vasiliy into stopping the attacks. If you can hold
your guys back from retaliating, maybe we can get a
ceasefire. Then maybe, maybe, I can get Vasiliy to talk
peace. And when it’s all done...maybe we can be
together. But this is more important than us.”
He took my face between his hands. “Nothing is more
important! Nothing is more important than you!” He
looked away. Looked back at me. “I love you.”
I wasn’t ready for how hard that hit me. It struck me
square in the chest and lit me up, the warmth radiating
out to every cell of my body. And instead of dissipating
and fading, it glowed, a deep, fiery heat that made me
ache and pulse every time I looked at him. Despite
everything, I couldn’t stop myself grinning. “I love you,
too,” I managed, my voice breaking. And I saw his
whole face soften, those brown and amber eyes
suddenly vulnerable for a second.
I swallowed. “There are lives at stake. A lot of lives. We
started this; we have to finish it.” I lifted my chin and