Page 26 of Plus-Size Bratva Possession (Vadim Bratva #12)

I tried to focus on what Carlo and Dino were saying about the new shipping routes they had formed, a necessary measure we had taken once we learned our employee Marconi had shared all operation plans with those nasty Espositos, but I found myself asking them to repeat themselves.

“All okay?” asked Carlo.

“Yeah, yeah,” I waved his concern off. “Just tired.”

I was lying again. I wasn’t tired. I was harrowed. It had been a week since Elena had left, and all I did, every waking moment, was think of her.

There was a hollowness in my chest that wouldn't go away, no matter how much I worked. I’d stopped drinking, though. I couldn’t after I drank myself into such oblivion that I wasn’t even there to stop her when she left.

This was all my fault.

“Gastone? Are you even listening?” Carlo snapped.

I blinked, forcing myself back to the present. “Yeah. Naples. The new routes.”

Dino exchanged a look with Carlo. “We were talking about Palermo for the last five minutes.”

“Right,” I muttered, rubbing my temples to help with that constant headache I’d been feeling.

“Look,” Carlo sighed. “We can do this another time. You're clearly—”

Just then, the door to my office burst open. I sat straighter on seeing who it was. Elena’s brothers. All six of them.

And they looked furious.

“Gentlemen,” I rose, motioning at them to sit. Had it been any other time, I would have kicked them out. But today, I was hoping they were here with news of Elena. For the first time in my life, I needed something from them.

“We aren’t here to sit,” said Caspian.

“What is this about?” I asked, meeting each eye.

“We’ve never seen Elena like this,” Gio hissed. “What did you do to my sister, you piece of shit?”

Carlo and Dino were on their feet now, too, and moved to stand beside me.

“How is she?” I asked, before I could stop myself.

“Like you care!” Dante spat. “Elena didn’t come because of you, and when we finally did find her over at our lake house, she was a fucking mess. You hear me? A mess!”

The muscles wrenched around my heart, and I clenched my fists, thinking about her in a lake house, all by herself. Elena always loved company. And now, she was hiding away. She’d become a prisoner of her own mind, all because of me.

But Federico started ranting before I could tell them I made a mistake. “She defends you, you know. Even now. She told us through tears that you're a good man.”

“But she still won't come home! She’s telling us nothing more about this alleged fight you had!” fumes Dante.

My jaw clenched so hard I thought my teeth might crack. But I had no words, no justifications for what happened. “I want to talk to her…Please,” I added.

“If you dare step one foot close to our sister-” Luca roared.

“Look,” Dino cut in, stepping slightly in front of me. “I don't know what's going on between my brother and your sister, but storming in here like this isn't helping anything.”

“Stay out of this,” Dante warned.

“No, you stay out of it,” Carlo countered, his voice deadly quiet. “You’re out here, threatening our brother when he’s worried sick about Elena, too. You know you aren’t the only ones who care about her, right? We all do .”

“Maybe. But you haven’t seen her state,” Gio said in a gentle tone. “Larissa goes over every day, and Elena’s only getting worse. She’s heartbroken, and it’s clear whatever happened between them was bad . She’s losing weight. She isn’t eating. She isn’t sleeping. And she won’t talk.”

The word heartbroken hit me like a physical blow. When she first left, I imagined she was mad. I pictured her mad. Mad was better than heartbroken.

“I didn't—” I started, then stopped. What could I say? That I didn't mean to hurt her? I had.

“You didn't what?” Gio pressed, taking another step toward me. “You didn't think she'd actually care when you treated her like garbage?”

Dino moved between us. “That's enough. You've said your piece. Now get out before this gets ugly.”

Gio was about to say something, but Caspian put a hand on his shoulder. “We should go.”

He then looked me straight in the eye. “We just came to tell you that whatever it is you did, fix it, before she breaks even further.”

None of us said a word until the Lebedevs were gone.

“I need to talk to her,” I said, more to myself than to them, my eyes still at the door.

Carlo nodded. “Yes, you do. But first, maybe figure out what you want to say.”

***

Later that night, after an hour of mustering up courage, I finally called her number. I had stopped calling two days ago, but after today’s confrontation, I knew I couldn’t just…stop.

I thought I was helping her by giving her space. But now I wonder if that was the entirely wrong strategy. After how I spoke to her, how bad I hurt her, I needed to beg for forgiveness. Even if it took weeks, months, or years.

The phone rang, and when that little click came on, my eyes widened with shock. She picked up. She actually picked up. The adrenaline coursed through me so hard that I jumped to my feet.

“Hello?” Her voice was hesitant. Just the sound of it made my chest ache.

“Elena,” I breathed. “It's me.”

“I know,” she said, after a pause.

“Your brothers came by today,” I said, for lack of anything better. “Told me where you were.”

“I know that too,” she replied. “Larissa called. Said one of them let it slip.”

I could hear her breathing on the other end; somehow, that small sound was a painful reminder of the distance between us.

“Are you okay?” I asked finally.

“Not really,” she answered with a small laugh that seemed more of a snort. “But I'm getting there.”

“Elena, I—” I stopped, unsure how to continue. I knew it might sound hollow, but I couldn’t come up with anything better than the truth. “I miss you.”

Her breath caught, and for a moment, I thought she’d tell me I had no right. “I miss you too,” she admitted so quietly I barely heard it.

“Come home,” I said, the words out before I could stop them. “Please. We can talk about everything. I promise I'll listen this time.”

“I can't,” she said, her voice wavering slightly. “Not yet. It's too... I need more time.”

I nodded, though she couldn't see me. “I understand.”

“Do you?” she asked, a hint of challenge in her tone. “Do you understand what it felt like to have you look at me like you couldn’t stand the sight of me? After everything we...” She trailed off.

“I was wrong,” I admitted. “I shouldn't have reacted the way I did.”

“No, you shouldn't have,” she agreed. “Gastone, I need to go. I'm not... I'm not ready for this conversation yet.”

Panic flared in my chest. “Wait, Elena, please—”

But the line went dead. I sat back down in shock, but as the hour passed, I told myself that it would be okay. At least, this time, she picked up that phone.

***

I couldn't sleep that night, or the next. After speaking to her, I had become obsessed all over again. It was like she was a clot, and I’d just picked it, and every good memory I shared with her was gushing up like blood.

All the time.

Talking to her again made me remember exactly where I’d gone wrong. How I hadn’t listened when I needed to most.

Three days after the call, I had half-convinced myself to just drive over to the lake house when Dom called.

“Boss, I found Ricardo,” he said. “He's in an abandoned warehouse near the docks. Looks like he's been living off the grid for years. Sending you the location.”

With everything that had happened since the Lebedevs came into my office, I had gotten so lost in my thoughts of Elena that I’d forgotten I’d asked Dom to find what he could about the things Elena said. To see if Adriana’s lover truly existed.

“I'll be there in twenty,” I said, already grabbing my keys.

***

Dom waited for me outside our warehouse.

“He's in there,” he said, nodding toward the side entrance. “I kept an eye on the place and followed from a distance.”

“Uh-huh,” I said, making a move. “You keep watch out here.”

Dom nodded, and I headed indoors, careful not to allow the door to creak.

Once inside, the place wasn’t anything like I expected.

The dim, concrete warehouse had been repurposed into a home of some sort.

There were lamps, a makeshift kitchen, carpets, and sofas.

I walked in as quietly as I could, and that’s when I came across the wall.

On the right, the wall was covered with whiteboards scribbled with dates, maps, and shipping routes. Our shipping routes. Pinned to a string were photos, even surveillance stills of my goddamn apartment building.

It looked like Ricardo kept himself busy planning my destruction. In that single moment, I understood who had been responsible for many of the attacks against our operations. How? How had he managed to cause such destruction? With what resources? What money?

I kicked a chair to the side in anger, and the sound startled him.

He jerked upright from the leather chair he was sprawled in, and when he saw me, his eyes were wide with fear.

“Ricardo,” I said, testing if Dom’s theory was right.

He jumped off the chair and scrambled back until he hit the wall. “Who are you? Wh…what do you want?”

Seems like Dom was right. I moved closer and got on my haunches until I was inches away from his face.

“I’m Gastone Ajello. Surely, you know who I am.”

All the color drained from his face. “I don't know what you're talking about.”

I pulled out my phone and brought up the photo Larissa had shown me. I had ignored her then, but after she left, I went back into her room and went through all the papers to find the photo she had tried so desperately to show me.

“You remember my fiancé, Adriana?”

He stared at the photo, then at me, before making a foolish mistake. “That was her name?”

With a roar, I clamped my throat around his neck, slammed him to the back of the wall. He sputtered, gasping for air, and I let go.

“You killed her,” I said.

“What? No!” He denied it, his eyes darting around the room, looking for an escape.

I got closer. “The police knew it was you. They just couldn't find you. But I did.”

“I didn't—”

“Shut up,” I hissed. “Here's what's going to happen. You're going to tell me the truth—all of it—and then I'm going to take you to the police. Or,” I pulled out my gun, letting it hang loosely at my side. “We handle this my way.”

Fear bloomed in his eyes. “Wait, please. I'll tell you everything. Just... don't kill me.”

“Talk,” I ordered.

He swallowed hard. “We met at a fashion event. She was there because of you, but you couldn't make it that night. We hit it off. Started seeing each other. It was just supposed to be a fling, but then...”

“Then she got pregnant,” I finished for him.

He nodded miserably. “She swore it was mine. I wanted her to leave you, to be with me. But,” his voice turned bitter, “she said she loved the lifestyle too much. She was using both of us, don't you see? You for your money, me for... whatever the hell she wanted from me.”

I thought of all the times Adriana had talked about our future, about raising our daughter together, about leaving life behind. Had it all been a way to keep me on the hook while she played her games?

“So, you killed her,” I said flatly.

He was silent for a long moment, then nodded, almost imperceptibly.

“I was angry . I loved her. I thought the baby was mine.

When she told me she was staying with you, that she'd found out the baby was a girl and you were both so happy...” He trailed off, his face twisted with old hatred.

“I lost it. I waited for her outside the doctor's office.”

“And you shot her,” I said, my voice steady despite the roiling in my gut. “You shot her and my baby—” I stopped, correcting myself. “Her baby.”

Ricardo’s words were rushing out now. “I panicked. I knew they'd be looking for me. But I wanted to hurt you, too. So I paid that journalist to implicate the Lebedevs, who I thought could bring you down.”

All these things he was saying made me physically ill. Three years. Three years of hatred against the Lebedevs for something they hadn't done. Three years of mourning a child that wasn't mine, a woman who had betrayed me in the most fundamental way possible.

But more than that, I had driven away the one person who had tried to show me the truth, who had cared enough to want to protect me from it, even as she knew I needed to see it.

“You framed an innocent family,” I said, my voice hollow. “You caused me to—” I couldn't finish the thought. Couldn't face what I'd done because of his lie.

“I'm sorry,” he said, though his eyes showed no remorse. “I was desperate.”

“Who helped you?” I asked.

His eyes darted around. “No one,” he said, quickly. Something told me he was lying, but in time, once I broke him, I would find the answers.

I raised the gun, pointing it at his head. My hand shook with the effort it took not to pull the trigger. He closed his eyes, waiting for the shot.

But I couldn't do it. Not after I had made a deal.

With a groan, I lowered the gun just a bit. “You're going to the police,” I said. “You're going to confess everything , and you're going to rot in prison for the rest of your miserable life.”

His eyes opened, and then, he smiled. “I don't think so,” he said, and lunged for me.

He was faster than I expected, catching me off guard. His shoulder slammed into my stomach, knocking the wind from me. The gun clattered to the floor as we both went down. He scrambled over me, kicking the gun away, and bolted for the door.

“Dom!” I shouted, struggling to my feet. “He's running!”

I heard shouting outside, but I knew Ricardo had a head start. Dom would pursue him, but whether he caught him or not didn't matter right now. What mattered was that I knew the truth. All of it.

Adriana had been unfaithful, yes. And she'd been killed for it, not by the Lebedevs, but by a jealous lover who couldn't stand to lose her.

Elena had been right all along. She'd tried to show me the truth, and I'd pushed her away, accused her of lying, of conspiring against me with her family. I'd hurt her deeply, and for what? To preserve a narrative that wasn't even true.

My hands were numb, but I felt so very ashamed.

I had to see her. Now. I had to tell her I was an utter fool, completely in over my head, living in the past to a point where I was willing to let go of the future.

I had to get on my knees and beg for her forgiveness. I pulled out my phone and called Dom as I rushed back to my car.

“He got away,” Dom panted. “Lost him near the shipping containers. I'm looking—”

“Keep looking for Ricardo. I'm going to the lake house,” I told him.

I ended the call and peeled out of the parking lot, praying it wasn't too late to fix what I'd broken.