Page 16

Deep down, I knew something was happening behind the scenes. I tried getting Ilya to talk, but he shut me down fast, ordering me to drop it.

So I did, but the knot in my stomach didn’t loosen. The last time I ignored my gut, it brought misery and death to our doorstep.

In the weeks that followed, Alisa and I planned a wedding worthy of a royal couple.

But I couldn’t shake the thought: who actually stands to gain from this?

Ilya, securing his position as Pakhan with a potential heir?

Alisa and her family, climbing the ranks, getting closer to power than ever?

Or the Bratva, putting on a show for the rest of the world?

The answer didn’t add up. Maybe I was looking for a reason when there was only one: love .

According to Alisa’s wedding plans, straight from the mind of a twelve-year-old in her long-awaited dreams, the weekend before the event was reserved for family and close friends.

She pulled out an entire to-do list, covered in stars and hearts made of glue and glitter. One look at it, and I knew there wasn’t a single item on that list I’d deny her.

The search for a place was slowed by the ridiculous rules her brothers and future husband set, all for our safety, they argued, even though they knew exactly what I did for a living.

While I fumed, Alisa remained calm. She let them hash out the logistics, maintaining the illusion of control they were so sure they had.

The weekend was closing in, and we still didn’t have a place to stay. It needed to meet very specific criteria. Luckily, I had one in mind.

Being the maid of honor, I suppose it fell under the role’s responsibilities.

Before I had a chance to change my mind, I picked up the phone and called the only person posh enough to buy a house in the Hamptons.

“ Pronto ?”

A commotion of voices filled the line. Fast Italian fired from all sides, and while I didn’t speak the language, I knew Enzo was at work. Since he answered, I didn’t let that stop me.

“Do you ever pick up the phone and just say hello?”

His smooth English didn’t carry a hint of an accent. “Here’s a tip for you. Don’t question me when you call for favors.”

“How did you know?”

“That’s the only reason you call. Calls are for business,” Enzo clarified.

“You got me.” Not wasting any time, I spilled the reason for the call. “Do you still have the getaway house?”

“In the Hamptons? I do. Why?”

“Care to share it with me and a couple of crazy Russians?”

A grunt carried over the static. “I don’t like where this is heading.”

“It’s okay to say no. I know the house serves its purpose,” I teased, leaving room for rejection. “Wouldn’t want to expose its unique location or whatever.”

Enzo didn’t take long to agree. “Fine. I don’t have a use for it, anyway.

The staff should be tending to it. I’ll notify them.”

“I owe you. You want to come?”

“With who?”

“Me, Alisa and her brothers, maybe some of her friends? I’ll have to check in with her before finalizing the plans.”

I could almost hear the eyebrow raise in his voice. “That’s an odd mix. Chances I’ll find some quiet to work?”

The hustle didn’t stop just because it was the weekend, but even the toughest needed a break now and then.

“Zero percent. Only come if you want to unwind. Work can wait a day or two. And please pack at least one pair of jeans,” my voice pleaded.

“The best I can do is a casual sweater.”

“With dress pants?” I rolled my eyes at his poshness. “That doesn’t count.”

“Fine. It better be worth my time. And I expect to be dined and wined.”

I laughed, knowing he was the host. “Promise. But who knows? Maybe a hot, very lost model will wash up on your beach. We might never hear from you again.”

Enzo exhaled a low grunt, clearly unimpressed. “I’ve had enough bodies to deal with this week.”

“That totally killed the mood.”

“I hoped so.”

I could vividly imagine the smirk on his face.

“Pick you up on Friday?”

“You know I employ drivers for that, right?”

“What’s the fun in that?” I pouted .

“I’ll be expecting some decent coffee and snacks.” The Italian in him was unmistakable.

“That’s a given. Thanks again.”

Enzo hung up without a goodbye and went back to work.

Not wasting a second, I dialed Alisa next, eager to share the good news.

The second the ringing stopped, I let the words fly. “House secured. Have you ever been to the Hamptons?”

Excitement filled Alisa’s voice. “Can’t say I have. Is it yours?”

“My friend’s. Hopefully, it’ll pass the code.” I rolled my eyes, even though no one was there to see it.

“Ilya says it’s a precaution. ‘The tension is rising’ is all I got. He couldn’t come, so he ordered my brothers to accompany us. Andrei will probably be busy with arrangements, and Mila’s working, so I guess we’ll be stuck with Maxim and Luka for company.”

I mean, I could think of worse people to be stuck with.

“Let them play guards. You and I will sip mojitos and sunbathe by the pool. Another first of mine: vacation.”

“It’s an honor to witness your firsts,” Alisa said, cringing at her own words.

“That sounded better in my head.”

A laugh escaped me before I remembered to ask. “Is it cool if Enzo, the owner of the house, shows up?”

“Enzo, the dark Italian guy that always surrounds you?”

“That would be him,” I confirmed.

A gasp filled the silence before Alisa breathed out. “Thank God. We needed some eye candy.”

Her reaction caught me off guard. Not because of the wedding, but because she noticed things so quickly and said them outright.

“Really?”

“You can’t blame a girl for some last-minute glances.” That, I couldn’t.

“Look, no touch. I promise. ”

“Knock yourself out.”

This version of Alisa was even better. More authentic. And I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t looking forward to the day.

***

After a pit stop at a downtown bakery, morning traffic slowed us down on the way to Enzo’s mansion on the east side. The bakery made the best Iris, a Sicilian dessert stuffed with ricotta and sugar. It was Enzo’s favorite, and my way of repaying him.

As my Mercedes G-Wagon pulled up to the gate, a guard recognized the car. Without hesitation, he headed for the trunk and began loading his boss’s luggage, two suitcases guaranteed to be filled with suits. That was on top of the walk-in closet waiting for him at the house, stocked with even more.

Through the lowered window, I watched Enzo nod goodbye to his staff.

“Uber pickup for Lorenzo?” I yelled out. I rarely used his full name.

He glanced at the passenger in the back seat. “I didn’t order a shared ride.”

“Play nice,” I scolded. “This is Alisa, the bride-to-be.”

I made the introduction while reversing out of the driveway.

“I gathered that,” Enzo muttered. They’d been in the same room at parties, but I’d never seen them interact.

Turning his head toward the back seat, I expected a greeting. Instead, a plea slipped out. “Please tell me Maxim isn’t coming.”

“That would be a lie,” Alisa said, unfazed. She was probably used to the effect her family had.

Enzo groaned. “Great.”

“Cheer up. The house is enormous. You might not even meet,” I tried to lighten the situation .

“I highly doubt that. For some reason, her brother can’t seem to shut up around me.”

“Not just you,” I added shamelessly.

With the convoy visible in his wing mirror, Enzo asked, “What’s with the entourage?”

A line of SUVs followed us after I picked Alisa up. Ilya wasn’t kidding about security. Part of me wanted to floor the gas pedal, but Alisa didn’t deserve what would follow.

“It’s because of me,” she took the blame, confirming what we already knew.

Mischief played on his face as Enzo joked, “Maybe he’s afraid you’ll run.”

“Maybe he should be.” Alisa seemed deep in thought before she added, “But I won’t. In case you were worried.”

Her face fell as I watched her reflection in the rearview mirror, wondering who she was trying to convince: us or herself?

“When should we expect the rest of the Galkins?” I asked their youngest sibling.

“They’ll meet us there.”

I nodded in acknowledgment.

Reaching into the back, I held up the bribery for Enzo. “Coffee and Iris, as promised.”

How he managed to eat the pastry without getting crumbs on himself was impressive, but the price of seeing him smile was worth all the crumbs he’d leave behind.

As we left the hustle of the city and drove closer to the coast, the conversation eased. While my fellow passengers discussed the engagement party or how the Italian pastry was baked, I remained silent, focused on the road.

The lives we lived were opposites.

Both Enzo and Alisa had grown up in families with deep ties to the underworld, surrounded by people they could rely on, people who guided them through the important stages of life. They’d been part of the group from the start.

While death and questionable circumstances followed me, I still fought to find my place.

I would never hold anything against them. We all had our demons. But there were moments, brief glimpses, when the distinction became clear.

I knew I was different, yet somehow, I also felt the same.