“He would do what he could, but this isn’t syndicate business. We’re partners with the Severinovs, but they’re not our muscle. They’ll fight alongside us but they won’t overstep. They have their own demons to deal with.” Matteo gets up and places a strong hand on my shoulder, his jaw tightening. “If there is a threat, if the Volkovs are watching and waiting, if Conor really is on their hit list…we need a plan of attack. That sonofabitch has put us through too much already. If he’s coming here to bring the fight to us, we have to be ready for it, whether or not it’s ours to finish.”
Chapter Sixteen
Anya
“I have the perfect dress for you!” Heaven squeals, clapping her hands together as she stands in front of her monstrous closet a couple of days later. It’s early in the morning, but she’s definitely on a mission. I’ve been so busy with the baby and running errands with Heaven for the christening that I’ve barely seen Dante.
Or maybe he’s just been avoiding me since the fogged-up window episode.
He hasn’t been around, and I figured with us living in the same apartment, we’d still see each other, even in passing. I guess Heaven and Matteo decided I’m not some psychopath and its okay to leave me alone with the Aisling after all.
Maybe they decided I don’t need a babysitter anymore.
Or maybe he’s just out doing “family business.”
Either way, I miss seeing him.
I miss his teasing voice and his mischievous gaze.
And…much as I hate to admit it…I miss how I feel when I’m around him.
I bounce Aisling on my hip, watching Heaven dive into the racks of dresses, shoes, and handbags.
“Ohh,” I breathe as she holds it out to me. “It’s gorgeous.” I narrow my eyes at the tag.
Versace.
Really?
For the au pair who’s burping and changing Aisling pretty much every hour on the hour?
“Heaven, the dress will be destroyed if I wear it,” I say, handing it back to her. “I can just wear one of my sundresses.”
Heaven lets out a snort. “The hell you will. I want you to show off that beautiful figure. And I’ve got shoes to match!”
I shake my head. “You’re really being too generous—”
She waves a hand in the air. “Stop. It isn’t like I can fit into it anymore,” she says with a hint of glumness lacing her words.
“You just had a baby!” I exclaim. “Of course you’ll get back into that dress. You’ll be back in fighting shape so soon!”
She rolls her eyes. “Not unless I can find a calorie-free substitute for chocolate soft serve ice cream with butterscotch sauce.”
I smirk. “We all have vices. I get it.”
She takes the baby and sits down on a white leather recliner, nodding toward the closet. “Anya, I am your boss and I demand you put that dress on. And I want to see the shoes with it, too! Go!”
I bite down on my lower lip. This is so incredibly bizarre.
Heaven is like the big sister I always wanted. Someone to gossip with, to try on clothes with, to cook with, to laugh with.
I had that relationship with my mother and then she was gone.
I never got it back.
It’s part of the reason why I was so envious of Dottie and The Golden Girls from the airport. To nurture that kind of relationship over so many years, growing up together, experiencing life together — I missed out on all of that. Nothing about my life has been normal for as long as I can remember.
And here I am, trying on dresses deep in the enemy’s closet.
Forget irony.
This has to be some alternate universe.
I pull off my tank top and start to unbutton my shorts when my phone buzzes in my back pocket. I grab it, my heart thudding so loud, it almost drowns out the sound of the familiar, guttural voice.
“Uncle Boris,” I whisper. “Where have you been? It’s been days! I’ve been calling and texting—”
“I know, Anya. And I am sorry I didn’t get back to you. But I have been busy working on something very important for our cause.”
“I’m sorry,” I say in a hushed tone so that Heaven can’t hear me. “But what could be more important than the well-being of your niece? You know, the one you order around but never bother to check in on?” It’s been days and I am pissed off at him for leaving me hanging like this.
I don’t give a damn what kind of plans he’s putting together.
I could be dead for all he knows or cares!
Anger bubbles in my veins.
He’s never been the father figure I need, but he’s the only one I have.
I press my lips together, my eyes darting at my half-naked reflection in the floor-length mirror.
Like it or not.
He’s been using me as his personal weapon for years, why should I be shocked that he’s pulling this shit again?
You have nothing else, Anya. Nothing, nobody…
I bite back a scream.
Don’t I fucking know it?!
“You could have called back to check on me. You’re the one person on the planet who’s actually supposed to give a damn,” I mutter.
“You’re right,” he says in a flippant tone. “But there were things that had to happen back here, to prepare for our work in Vegas.”
“What work?” I ask, holding my hand around my mouth the muffle my voice. I manage to unzip my shorts and slide them to the carpet as I balance the phone against my ear. “And what do you mean ‘our’?”
“We will discuss all of the details tonight when I arrive.”
“Wait, you’re coming here? I thought the plan was for me to get the information your contact needs. Since when do you need to be here?”
“Since the plans have changed,” he snips. “My contact would like to acquire the information himself.”
“That’s a good thing since I’ve basically heard nothing that could possibly be useful to you. I haven’t met any of these other elusive brothers you mentioned, and Matteo’s office is locked up like Fort Knox!” I say in a frustrated whisper.
“You don’t have to worry about it anymore,” he says gruffly.
“Well, then, what the hell do you need me for?” I demand. “This is ridiculous! I’ve been living with strangers for days and changing shit diapers for what?”
“Having you there gives us access, Anya. Your work is not in vain. And soon enough, we will have plenty of money and even more power. Ivan Volkov will be eating out of our hands, I can promise you that.”
I roll my eyes. I’ve heard it all before. Uncle Boris has delusions of grandeur. It’s why we’re in this shitty position to begin with, the one where we’re scrounging around for any job that can make us a windfall.
And I question that this is it.
Who the hell knows who his contact is, and who’s to say the contact won’t kill him once he gets what he wants?
Unless my uncle has a different idea about how to deal with the contact…one that involves me killing him first.
“I don’t know if I’ll be able to get away tonight. The baby’s christening is tomorrow and I’m not sure—”
“You’re the au pair, not the full-time nanny. Set hours means you get time off to meet your dear old uncle who flew in for a special dinner and to take a tour of UNLV, where you are so excited to go in the fall.”
I bite down on my lower lip. “Okay, I might be able to get away for a little while.”
“I will text you the details tomorrow once I land.”
“Okay, Uncle,” I say, slipping off my flip flops and stepping into the high-heels Heaven left for me. “Have a safe—”
Click.
“Flight,” I grumble, stabbing the End button. He really is a huge prick more often than not. I totally understand why so many people want to either kick his ass or just flat-out kill him. And yeah, I feel a tiny bit guilty thinking that since he took us in, brought us to Brooklyn, gave us a roof over our heads, and food to eat.