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The moment Mirabella leaves, I pack my laptop into my bag and lock the office. I’d recently found enjoyment in walking through the park in the afternoon, and I had an hour until my next client. Since returning, I hadn’t reached out to any friends; despite the amount of messages I’d received I ignored them all. Sure, some of them probably thought I was a snobby bitch, but I’d rather them think that than know the reality and anyone else getting hurt.
Holding two hot chocolates, I admire the spring leaves doing their best to bloom as I walk through the park. One was for me, and the other was for the homeless woman who frequented the park. Being the start of spring, it was still chilly, and so I frequented her with hot beverages. In return, she always offered an enlightening note in kind gesture.
But I looked forward to it for other reasons. Whether she’s homeless or employed by Dmitri, I’m not entirely sure. But only a week after the incident, when Dmitri broke into my apartment, he’d developed this clever idea, which left no traces of our communication. As much as I wanted to ignore Dmitri, he also had my sister, Layla, write me notes.
A man walks past and flicks a coin into her beanie on the ground. She offers him a note, but he ignores it and keeps walking.
“Ahh, beautiful lady,” the woman announces excitably when she spots me. She holds out a note in exchange for the hot chocolate.
“How’s your day been?” I ask politely and unfold her message of the day.
I know who’s writing it is the moment I unfurl the paper because I always used to give him shit for his horrible handwriting. But it makes me cling to it all the more.
If ever in danger. Come to the Lev club. I’ll protect you and your family.
Also, the bakery called Cappa, which you walk past every morning, offers delicious bagels.
They have the weird spicey jalapeno crème that you like.
Weirdo.
I fold the note up and offer it back to the homeless woman.
Being honest with myself helped me not entirely break apart. It was the last thing I clung to. So, if I could be selfish in only this, I’d pick up each letter and read them carefully. But I’d never return one. Because despite their declarations of freeing me, I knew my wings were already clipped. I was just waiting for when The Lion would tire of this game and pluck me from the city.
And who knows what was to happen to me after that.
9
DMITRI
Had I had the opportunity to step into Luca Armani’s fight ring sooner, I would’ve taken it in a heartbeat. It just so happened that this particular night, I’ve had a month’s worth of serious pent-up rage to vent. The Italian mafia boss was seriously pissed because of the business dealings I had with the woman he was trying to win over, Arabella Barone. It was a sticky situation between the two, considering how their relationship was built on lies and would most likely end in betrayal. But I had stakes in this as well with the recent intention to buy out in silent partnership the company building that Elanee works at from Ara. Luca was simply jealous, and I used that to my advantage to fight in his underground ring now.
I was growing impatient.
Bit by bit, I was putting things in place to pry my father’s control over Elanee. Ultimately, I needed a way to bring him here to New York so I could face him and kill him.
It wasn’t coming quick enough, and I’d wrestled sleepless nights, managing daily business and discipline that I’d never known to hold back. Sending her letters and keeping tabs wasn’t enough. She wasn’t by my side where I could protect her, nor could I run to her side, jeopardizing her family.
I bounce back and forth in the ring, buzzing from the energy of the underground club and the intention of catching Luca’s attention and respect. For the first time in my life, I want allies. Powerful ones. I’d never played nice with others—but for Elanee’s freedom, I was willing to go to great lengths to make them.
I’m disorientated by the heavy pounding of the migraine I’d been fighting through, but I’ve already finished my first match, obliterating their champion with only a few scratches or bruises myself. I relish the way the crowds boo and curses my name, most likely because of all the money they just lost stacking bets against me.
I couldn’t give a flying fuck.
I needed this fight.
And I needed Luca Armani’s approval.
I look in his direction, where he sits like a king on his throne, with a concerned Ara beside him. She had no idea I’d be here tonight. But I don’t watch her. I watch him.
Luca had every reason to be wary of me, “the outcast Bratva prince,” he’d once called me. I personally thought he was an asshole, but so was I, and having an ally like him will work to my advantage if it’s not just my father I’m dealing with but the Bratva he works for as well. It might turn into an all-out turf war. I had no need to hide behind someone, but I'd claim it if it favored the odds of protecting Elanee when I took her back.
With sickening pleasure, I watch Luca rise from his chair and descend the stairs amongst the members sitting and those closely standing around the ring. Ara almost looks concerned for my well-being, which is why I have a feeling Luca has death in his eyes. Lord forbid anyone take his woman’s attention away from him.
I’d fought all through my college days, and behind the mask that society sees, I was more than happy to clean up messes personally when it comes to underhand business.
For occasions like this, being able to blow off some steam, I enjoyed it.
