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I smile and put my phone back. She's such a good friend.
Lost in my thoughts, I startle at the sound of the bell above door ringing and lift my head.
Fuck, why couldn't he have gotten fat or lost all his hair in the last three years. It's not fair!
Damian walks into the building, and he has a box in his right hand and is dressed in jeans and a black Henley V-top. His hair is still short on the side and messy on the top, which is a bit longer than at our wedding, and his face is showing a little stubble that makes him hotter. I notice his left hand as he lifts it to run through his hair. His wedding band. A lump forms in my throat, and I place my hand on my rings through my top, and my eyes feel glossy. No, we're here for Mila, nothing else. I look down quickly to collect myself, straightening the folder that I placed on the table, leaving the other one in my bag. I look up again and his gaze meets mine, showing me all the emotions that he usually hides: vulnerability, sadness, guilt, longing, and loss.
He starts to walk my way and stops a few feet from my table.
"Hello, printsessa.”
sixteen
Damian
I toss and turn all night. At 4 AM, I get up to go to the gym, hoping it will distract me, and stay for four hours before I give up. Covered in sweat, I go back to my room in the penthouse. I can hear music from the kitchen, so I know my mother is awake, and I hurry past, not wanting to talk just yet. I shower, scrubbing my body before getting out, drying myself, and dressing in my jeans and tight Henley V-shirt, knowing how much Sofia loves them. I need all the help I can get to win my wife back and, hopefully, meet my little girl. I turn my head to the nightstand near my bed, the pictures Alexandr brought me last night, sitting there in photo frames. My chest tightens, looking at the most important people in my life. If my enemies knew about them, then they would be left vulnerable. They all think Sofia is dead, but if I could find her, then so could they. Fuck, I really need to fix this. I check the time at 8:40; there are just under two and a half hours to go.
I head back into the living area, then into the kitchen, where everyone is drinking coffee. My mother sees me first, then goes and makes me a cup, handing it to me with a slight smile, and I lean down to kiss her cheek. I know I'm to blame for why she hasn't met her granddaughter, and it kills me she's had to miss out, too.
My dad and Stefano give me a head nod, and Alexandr slaps my back while mom places French toast—my favorite—in front of me.
"Thanks, Mama." Her eyes soften, calling her “mom” in Russian, showing her my vulnerability and fear about this meeting. I want my wife and daughter back, but I know I've done a lot to hurt them. My mother rounds the counter and wraps me in her arms while I tighten mine around her. I glance at my dad, and he just looks sad. Alexandr puts his hand on my back.
"You'll convince her to return, son. I know you will; she loved you then, and she loves you now. You can't stop that kind of love; she still has her wedding rings, not in some drawer but around her neck. A part of her can't let you go; you'll bring our girls home," Stefano says from next to me, and I nod, wanting him to be right. He has to be right. I can't breathe without her anymore. I know I'll have to tell her about the women I tried to sleep with since she's been gone, and the women I've let grind on me in the strip club, or have tried to suck me off. Still, I never got off or even hard, so I'm hoping that will work in my favor, right? Look at me, a pussy whipped soon-to-be Don and Bratva Pahkan. Yeah, the men would love this!
Alexandr must see the look on my face when my mother goes back behind the counter to continue cooking her heart out.
"Brother, it's been three years, and you haven't exactly slept with any women. Yes, you've tried, but you didn't succeed. You wanted your wife but didn't think you would find her; you also wanted to punish her a little, too. I think she'll understand, and Savannah doesn't count, either. She only gave you a lap dance. You didn't get off."
I frown. "It still feels like cheating, though."
Stefano jumps in. "Son, she'll understand; it has been three years. I'm pretty sure she's not lived like a monk."
I growl, making my mother tut at me, pointing a spoon in my face.
"Don't be a damn hypocrite, syn,” she snaps, calling me son in Russian. “You've been sleeping with other women before you made things official when she was seventeen, and you continued to do so despite being with her, and clearly, you slept together before the wedding. So even after she gave herself to you, you still played around on her, even two days before your wedding. We are all to blame for her turning her back on her family, which is supposed to be a crime in our way of life, but you broke her heart. She deserved to run the way she did, and even some of the men who didn't believe she was dead murmured ‘good for her.’
If she has been with someone else, then that is part of your punishment for what you did to her—not seeing her carry your child, being a part of the birth, and missing the first two years of her life, that is the rest of your punishment—and ours for our part."
Then she proceeds to cook. Yeah, I deserved that, but hypocrite or not, if I find out she's been with anyone else, the guy’s dead.
"And another thing," she turns around and all of us men look at her and freeze, frightened with how she's looking at me.
Shit.
"With how you’re feeling right now, about possibly seeing a guy she has been with, how do you think she'd feel, seeing every one of the women you slept with, one is her own cousin, the other…" my mother shakes her head. "Sofia has to agonize over what you're doing day in day out if she decides to forgive you. She knows that woman, Candice, works with you, Sofia knows how that woman told everyone you got her pregnant, more than once. And continues to slaver after you for the last three years. We can't kill her because she's your father's capo’s daughter, and we can't fire her from our legit businesses because she could sue, which leaves us not being able to kill her without starting a war within the Bratva."
With that, she turns around again and continues to cook like she didn’t just scold me like I was eight years old again.
Fuck.
Stefano chuckles while my dad's shoulders shake. Alexandr, at least, has the decency to try and hide his smirk while I stand there with my mouth hanging open like a complete idiot in shock. Dickheads, the lot of them.
After we finish breakfast, and my mother has stopped reaming my ass, my father slaps me on the back, and we make our way to the room he made into the office to get some business done. My brother goes to his computer to start looking at the books. At the same time, Stefano calls his men to ensure everything is running smoothly.
Suddenly, he shouts, "I don't give a fuck what she says; she's not in charge. I'm the fucking Don. She's not in the right frame of mind at the moment, she doesn't need to know my whereabouts, got it?" I give him a raised brow, and he just waves us off, continuing to try and get his wife under control. Poor bastard, you can tell she loves her, she's just pushed him too far.
My father and I go through emails, and so far, things have stayed in line, but then I read an email from Sergi.
