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He mused over this some more as he accepted a plate from her. It was surreal, the way they sat at the kitchen island having breakfast. Loki sat at their feet, somewhere in the middle between them, as if he belonged there. Which he didn’t, of course. His dog should remember where his loyalties lay. The damn mutt hadn’t even greeted him; he’d been so caught up in his meal.
“So, now what?” Elena asked. She didn’t look him in the eyes as she pricked her fork into a waffle.
Good question. Now what? Nothing had changed, really. And at the same time, everything had. He didn’t know how to deal with it, nor did he want to. This picture-perfect life an outsider would get from peeking in through their window wasn’t real. He wolfed down his breakfast and got up.
“What do you think? Now we start our fucking honeymoon.”
Her eyes narrowed at the sarcasm in his voice. He didn’t give a shit.
She leaned down, her hand hovering over Loki. The beast licked her fingers, then rolled onto his back. The old bastard had already fallen for her. Disgusting.
“He’s beautiful,” she said softly.
That, he was.
“He reminds me of Pucci.”
The words, innocent in their nature, were like a blow to his chest. The last thing he wanted was a reminder of the old Elena. Seeing her this way, in his kitchen, looking carefree, it was as if the last sixteen years had never happened. He couldn’t fall into that trap. He couldn’t let himself forgive her for the unforgivable, only to be stabbed in the back again. Those days were over. And he sure as hell wasn’t going to answer the unvoiced question in her eyes regarding his dog.
“Don’t leave this place without Baran. He’ll be looking out for you.”
“You mean, keeping an eye on me?”
“Does he need to?” Did she really think he was ever going to let her go? Surely she knew how their world worked. If a Vory wife left you, you had to give chase. He’d find her and punish her.
Her chin jutted. “Maybe.”
She was outright challenging him. First by showing she had his dog wrapped around her little finger, and now by questioning his authority over her.
“Try me,” he growled. “Just try me and see what happens.”
He’d drag her back kicking and screaming.
***
His morning didn’t start out great, and his afternoon didn’t look like it was gonna be much better. The only ray of light was his daily check-in with his daughter. So far he had only missed one day and Artist had informed him Vicky had expectantly watched her phone all day. He liked to think it was because of him. It wasn’t ideal, speaking to each other only over the phone, but it was all he could offer her right now. He wasn’t going to take any chances with her life, not while Pedro Morelli still was on the loose. Sadly, the bastard had gone off the grid. It was like the Earth had opened and swallowed him up, offering him refuge. Viking would love to personally accommodate Pedro’s permanent stay in the depths of the Earth, but the opportunity hadn’t yet presented itself. Even Damon’s extensive circle of spies hadn’t spotted him yet.
Damon handed him a glass of raki and took a seat across from him. “You look like crap. Married life treating you badly?”
Viking swallowed two painkillers and washed them down with the white liquid. “You taking a page from Baran’s book now?” According to the Turk, raki was the cure to a hangover. Never mind it tasted like toxic liquorish with a hint of pain.
Damon grinned. “Looks like you kissed a raging bull and he didn’t love you back.”
Yeah, Vasili had gotten in a few good punches. “You should see the other guy.”
“I have. He looks like an even bigger pile of shit.”
“He is a pile of shit.”
“Speaking of…shit might hit the fan.” His chin jerked toward the office in the back of the club. “Damian Caputo showed up an hour ago. I was supposed to call you if it took you any longer, but you’re here now.”
“What do you think he’s here for? The feuds?” If anyone knew it would be Damon.
“Maybe. Though he wouldn’t need our manpower. He’s got enough of his own, being the boss of all bosses.”
“That title doesn’t exist anymore.” The Italian families hadn’t had a true leader for ages.
“Courtesy of Lucky Luciano,” Damon agreed. “He abolished the old ways.”
