Chapter Four

Celia

Only I couldn’t let it go. When I told Hank, the owner and vet for the clinic I worked at, who knew my dream was to one day work with him then take over his clinic, he offered to pay for half of my school as a loan without interest. He saw it as an investment because he wanted me to take over. His son is a pediatrician in the far west suburbs. He hadn’t made any other connections to partner with and didn’t want the practice to close when he was ready to retire in ten years or so.

If that was true, then maybe, just maybe, I could get Carlo to give me the rest. So more than a week after I met with Carlo, I demanded another meeting with him. Yes, I had to ask for a meeting with him.

The bastard put me off for four days.

He was in a bad mood the minute I walked through the door. “What do you want now, Celia?”

I took a deep breath, trying not to lose my temper. “The owner of the vet clinic is willing to pay for half of my school. All I need is ten thousand. Please, Carlo—”

He scoffed. “What the fuck I gotta tell you? I’m not paying for school. It doesn’t matter if it’s ten or five grand. Shut the fuck up about it.”

“Why can’t you help me for once in your fucking life?” I hated that I was crying in front of him. I wasn’t sad; I was frustrated I couldn’t kill him.

“Sonny! Get her the fuck out of here.” Carlo shouted to one of his soldiers.

“I’m your daughter, you asshole! I’m not a fucking lackey for you to toss out when—” Sonny grabbed me by the arm and started dragging me out of Carlo’s office.

I couldn’t believe it. “I hate your fucking guts. My greatest hope is you get cancer like Johnny and it eats away at your body too!”

Sonny let me go when he closed Carlo’s office behind us. Anger firing me up, I pushed hard against him. I managed to catch him off guard and he went into the wall.

Another of Carlo’s soldiers, Al was there and laughed at him. “She almost took your ass out.”

Sonny backhanded me across the face, sending me off my feet. The blow left me stunned, my ears ringing. While I was out of it, he grabbed me by the arm again and shoved me out of the house, then slammed the door and locked me out.

I fell, still stunned. My mother appeared at my side. Sighing, she muttered, “Why do you have to fight with him? You shouldn’t say such things to him. He’s your father.”

Her words hurt worse than the blow from Sonny. I blinked back tears caused by her—not Sonny. “Why do you never fight for me? He says awful shit to me all the time. You never say a word until I say them back. If he were my father he would give a shit about me. But he doesn’t and neither do you.”

“Celia, please, you don’t understand.” She grabbed my arm to help me up.

I shook her off. “No, I don’t understand. I don’t understand why it’s always Carlo. How come it’s never me or Carina, even one time?”

She didn’t say another word or try and help me to the car. I didn’t look back as I drove home.

The next day I almost didn’t go to school. I didn’t want the other kids seeing the huge bruise. I was already an outsider, with my weight, dyslexia, and being held back a grade when I was ten because of a teacher who thought I was stupid despite the dyslexia diagnosis. And I might have brought a kitten to school a few times to feed. Kids called me the weird cat lady.

Most of the mafia kids went to private schools—there was a Catholic school and a regular rich place. Capos sent their sons to the rich place and their daughters to the Catholic school. Carlo hadn’t cared enough to send me and Carina anywhere. We went to public school in Evanston.

While it was better than half the schools in Chicago, the kids felt childish compared to the mafia sons and daughters I knew. They’d never dealt with their fathers coming home with blood on them. Or men in and out of the house at all hours, being taught how to shoot a gun, learning how to pick locks, playing hide and seek in old speakeasies.

When I got called into the office by the guidance counselor, I was sure it was about the bruise. It wasn’t. I won a scholarship. It paid for everything. Not just tuition and housing, it covered another fifteen hundred dollars a month as a stipend to live off of and a thousand dollars in housing if I decided I didn’t want to live in the dorms on campus. All the years of school necessary to become a veterinarian, as long as I maintained a C average.

I was stunned. How could it be?

The guidance counselor shrugged. The scholarship was created by the family of a recent vet student who loved animals. She saw students around her dropping out because they couldn’t afford school even though they earned their place. Her dream was to create a scholarship fund for those who wanted to help animals.

Since I had contacted the school a few days ago to decline due to insufficient funds, they submitted me for the scholarship and I was approved.

Three days later I was still on a high when I texted Milos that Koshka was ready for him. She’d had her shots and was healing from being spayed last week. He told me he was busy during the day, he couldn’t come until this evening or the next day. It was up to me.

Milos was coming—wanted to come here? After everything that happened, I expected him to send someone.

Since it was Friday night, my mom was spending the weekend with Carlo. Carina was meeting with a client for design work at six thirty and said it would probably take a few hours.

The idea of seeing him again was already causing my chest to twist and stomach to tighten in anticipation. But the idea of seeing him alone had me breaking out into a sweat. I paced as I told myself, Tell him to meet me at the clinic tomorrow. I swear it’s what I meant to type, but it came out as he could come by tonight, whatever time worked for him. Since I was a night owl, I would be up until midnight.

He texted back that in that case, he’d like to take me out for dinner as a thanks for taking care of Koshka. Seeing it, my hands were trembling too badly to type, and I dropped my phone. Crap, not the thousand-dollar phone. Thankfully due to the ugly-as-fuck case I bought for it, there wasn’t even a scratch on it.

No need. Between the car and the phone, you’ve done more than enough.

I sent it and waited with air frozen in my lungs until he responded.

There is every need. Mine.

Blushing so badly I nearly passed out, I couldn’t come up with an answer that didn’t sound stupid. I guess I took too long to respond because my phone chimed again.

Tell me what you like and I will bring it to you.

The command was it. I gave in because there was no denying Milos Levin, and in the end I didn’t really want to.

I usually love Italian food, but I’m in the mood for Chinese if that’s okay. The place Great Wall on Chicago Avenue and Main Street does really good rice noodles with chicken and crab rangoons. Pretty much everything is good there.

I’m not sure why I was wincing as I waited—prepared for the blow of him saying never mind. Only for his response to come quickly.

I will see you at seven.

Falling back on my bed, I sighed. It didn’t matter Milos Levin was everything I shouldn’t want, should stay as far away from as possible—I was drawn to him as powerfully as a moth to a flame. What made it worse was I had no doubt I was the one who’d be burned in the end.

I changed seven times before six thirty. In the end I went with a pretty purple long-sleeve velvet sweater and basic black leggings. Then I saw the bruise matched the sweater. Shit, I needed to cover it up. My only problem was I didn’t have any makeup. I knew how to use makeup, but only because I watched and helped Carina with her cosplay stuff. It was all hers. She’d been locking her door lately when she left. She said it was because she thought Mommy was going through her room. A week ago stuff was moved, then again the other day.

Nonna taught me how to take off a set of cuffs by the time I was ten and how to get into most safes by twelve. Locks were a little harder and took until I was thirteen. I could break into her room—it just felt wrong.

The doorbell goes off. No freaking way, it’s seven already? Ten minutes early but still. Damn it.

Opening the door, all the air in my body leaves me in a rush at the sight of Milos Levin in all black filling the doorway. I stumble back into the house, giving him room to come in.

“Good evening, you—” He breaks off as he steps forward, his big hand catching my chin.

So every single time that electric shock was going to happen? My stomach twists, filling with heat at his touch. Suddenly I want—need his hands everywhere on my body. His touch is a brand burning into me.

“What happened?”

Ice slides down my spine at the danger in the softly spoken words. I can’t shake my head, he’s holding me so tightly. “Nothing, I—”

“Do not lie to me, Celia. I do not like liars,” he growls.

A gust of wind hits me from the open door, causing me to shiver. Milos lets go of me, stepping further inside. He pulls the door from my numb hand and closes it behind me, all without ever taking his eyes off me. “Tell me. Who hit you?”

It’s happening again, the violence is rolling off him in waves. This is a man who has killed and will kill again—if I give him a name.

I’m afraid, but not of him, and I’m not sure if it makes me naïve or not. Deep down I trust he won’t hurt me. It’s why I felt safe enough to yell at him—it didn’t matter what I said, Milos wouldn’t hurt me. Right now, I’m afraid of what will happen if I give him the name.

I shake my head. “I tried talking to Carlo again about money for school. It didn’t go well. This was my own fault. I was dumb and pushed one of his men. He got embarrassed and…”

“The one with slicked-back hair and a chain around his neck like an extra on a bad mob movie?” Lethal intent flows out of him, inky dark and alive.

How did he know it was Sonny?

The smallest of nods. “He is the type to hurt a woman if his ego was bruised.”

Shit. I shake my head, unable to verbalize the lie. “I deserved it. Please, let it go. If you do something you could start a war. I’m not worth that.”

His frown is so scary I step back from him. “You are worth far more than you could ever imagine. Your father does not deserve your protection from a war of his own making by not protecting you.”

How could he think that? Eyes wide, I shake my head again. “I’m not protecting Carlo. I mean you. Carlo is relentless when he’s crossed. I am begging you to let this go.”

Yellow touches every inch of my face. He nods. “If it is what you wish.”

“Yes, thank you.” All at once it’s easier to breathe again. “Besides, I have amazing news. I got a scholarship for my entire schooling. Everything I could possibly need is paid for. I’m going to get to go to school and become a veterinarian the way I’ve dreamed of since I was eight years old.”

For the first time he smiles wide. This man is so stunning it isn’t fair. “Congratulations. You deserve it.” He slips off his long black coat.

Wow, once again he’s in black on black. His suit, shirt and tie are all matte, nothingness black. He should be scary with how large he is, yet with the light caressing his honey skin and those yellow eyes soft, the only thing scary is how much I want him.

I take his coat, it’s cashmere and I’m sure costs more than I make in a year. I hang it up on the coat rack by the door.

When I turn back to him, he’s studying the small open-plan living area of the living room, kitchen and small dining area. I have little doubt it’s probably one of the smallest spaces he’s ever had dinner in.

“Thank you, I, um. Do you want to set the food down? I’ll grab some forks. Do you want something to drink? I have sweet tea, water, and a box of wine that I swear tastes good,” I offer.

His chuckle skims up my tummy and causes my nipples to tighten in need. “I will take water, thank you.”

By the time I’m back from the kitchen with a few forks and a glass of water for him and tea for me, he’s unpacked everything and taken the lids off the plastic rectangular containers. I sit down across from him at the table.

For a few minutes we sort everything out and eat in companionable silence. Me with my noodles and him with beef and broccoli.

Koshka appears, meowing like mad to be held or for me to share with her. It was always one or the other with her.

“She has grown far more than I thought she would in only two weeks.” Milos smiles down at her.

I can’t take my eyes off his smile. “They do that. It feels like you blink and miss seeing them grow, time speeds past.”

“It’s not that we have little time, but more that we waste a good deal of it.” We both watch the kitten, who has finally stopped meowing. She yawns and goes down to his feet, lays her head on his shoe and closes her eyes.

“I think she likes you. Who said that?” I ask.

“Seneca,” he murmurs as he sips his water.

It’s the last name I would have thought he would give. “You read Seneca? The Roman Stoic philosopher?”

A soft chuckle. “The Russian philosophy I grew up with was from people who were not as successful as the Romans and Greeks at creating and maintaining kingdoms. As painful as it was to accept, if I did not learn a different way, I stood to lose everything.”

His honesty hits hard. I take a deep breath as I move my rice noodles around. “I’m sorry about the way I reacted to you telling me your family trafficked. That wasn’t fair to you.”

Yellow meets mine and holds. “It was and it wasn’t. I accepted it because it is what I was raised with. My father started me into our life young. As a young boy I was raised with the identity of Bratva. By twelve I was sitting in with him during business. At fifteen I was handling business. I trusted we were doing what was right for us. After all, we were not the only ones doing it. For years I handled drug and weapons shipments, but I never handled human cargo. The day I did I experienced the same horror you showed me. I should not have accepted it simply because it was done for so long. Just because we could doesn’t mean we should.”

I see it in his eyes, he means it. I long to touch him to soothe his turmoil.

“That was the last shipment we ever handled. Here in Chicago and in Philadelphia where my brothers operate, we do not deal in trafficking and we do not work with those who do. While my uncle and cousins do in New York, we do not do business with them. Even with the connections they have I could use, I refuse.” His deep smoky voice wraps around me. I couldn’t look away from him if I wanted to—and I don’t want to.

“It’s hard to go against family, against how you are raised. Even if it doesn’t feel right, the fear of losing them if you even question it isn’t easy.” I sigh as I move my noodles around.

A ghost of a smile. “I can’t see you accepting anything just because it’s how it’s always been done.”

Blushing, I shrug. “I’m going to take that as a compliment.”

Another smile that turns my whole body hot and achy. “It is. To you and your nonna.”

Laughing, I nod. “Nonna would love that compliment. My nonna—Carlo’s mother was the person who raised me and my sister. Almost all my good memories are of her. I still miss her deeply even though she’s been dead for more than three years.”

“Your mother…” Milos Levin unsure, I doubt it happens often.

“My mother wasn’t a mother, so much so until I was six I thought Nonna was my mother. Nonna lived in the house across the street, she refused to live with Carlo so he bought it for her. When my mother became pregnant it didn’t matter Carlo wasn’t married, he wouldn’t marry her. He put her here so my nonna could be near her grandkids and help my mother. It became way more than helping. My mother woke us up, got us breakfast, took us to school, then after school we didn’t see her again until we woke up. We fell asleep in our rooms at my grandmother’s house and spent all our waking time there even in the summer.” I shrug.

“What happened when you were six?” The question is soft, like his eyes.

How did he know something happened? “Why do you ask?”

An eyebrow goes up as if to say of course he knew something happened. “Because you said until you were six. What happened for you to learn otherwise?”

I shouldn’t be surprised he doesn’t miss a thing. “Nonna and my sister were in a car accident. My little sister was hurt really badly I don’t remember everything, but she was in the hospital for several weeks. Thankfully Nonna only broke her arm, but it wasn’t easy for her to get around. She was upset my mother didn’t go visit Carina in the hospital. They fought and I heard Nonna say she wasn’t even our mother, and when was my mother going to do her duty to us?”

Suddenly Carina is home. I almost cry at the loss of the time alone with Milos.

Her eyes are wide as she looks from me to Milos. “Sorry.”

“What are you doing home?” I can’t believe she’s here.

“Client didn’t realize I was still in high school. He was an asshole and thought I couldn’t handle the job because of my age. I’ll leave you two alone,” she mumbles.

He stands, offering his hand. “Milos Levin, please do not leave on my account.”

Carina stares at his hand, but doesn’t move to take it.

His phone goes off, and he stiffens. “One moment please.” Answering the phone, he crosses to the other side of the room.

Eyeing him with fear, Carina spits out, “I’ll be in my room.” In seconds, she’s in her room, nearly slamming the door behind her.

“I am sorry, kotyonok. Something important has come up. I must go.” Peter is behind him, scooping up the kitten and the bag of her things I prepared for her to leave with. Then he’s gone again.

“I understand. Thank you for dinner.” I offer him the keys to the car.

A barely there smile is on those thick, plush lips. “Do not end this evening by annoying me. The car is yours. If I find out you are not using it or do something naughty like donating it to some charity, I would hate to have a discussion with your father about how you refused my gift.”

I’m gasping in shock; how the hell did he know I was considering gifting it to charity? He couldn’t talk to Carlo—if Carlo knew the car was from Milos, then he’d have the two of us tied up in a marriage before either of us could blink. I would lose everything. “You wouldn’t,” I beg.

“Try me, kotyonok.” It’s a dare.

“Fine.” I sigh. “I don’t understand why you care, but fine.”

A finger traces along my jaw. The touch is light, too light, yet sends my stomach twisting tight with need as warm honey flows through my veins. “Ty ne.” The Russian words are rich, thick, wrapping around me like smoke. “Odnazhdy ty vse poymesh’.”

“What did you say?” I can’t keep the husky note out of my question.

His smile has my core clenching tight as it floods with wet heat. “I want you to promise if you need anything, you will call me—day or night. Whether it is your father, your car, anything at all, you will call me.”

“That isn’t what you said.” My lips are numb from pressing them tight to keep the sob in.

He caresses my cheek with the back of his finger. I want to grab it and hold it against me—it isn’t nearly enough of his touch. “No, it isn’t. Regardless, I want you to promise me if you need anything—even just a voice in the night—you will call me. I will answer no matter the time and I will be whatever you need.”

I blink back tears. He’s saying goodbye, but he’s leaving the door open to me.

“Promise me, Celia,” he demands.

Nodding, I swallow against the lump in my throat. “I will call you if I need you.”

Milos gives no quarter. “Not me, anything.”

“Okay, yes, anything I need, I’ll call you,” I promise him. I need him gone so I can cry alone.

At last satisfied, with one last stroke of his finger across my lips he’s gone, leaving my whole body trembling and my lips tingling from the slight caress.

Only minutes after he closes the door, my mother is home. She and Carlo had an argument, she mutters as she slams the door to her room. Holy shit that was a close call. I wipe my face, grateful my mom didn’t see I was crying—the tears falling the moment I heard the door close behind Milos.

He said goodbye. I would likely never see him again, and if I did…it didn’t matter. It was the right thing—for the both of us.

As I cried myself to sleep, I wondered why he made me promise him I would call him. The man had walked away from me. No way could I bring myself to call him—unless I was on the brink of death and there was no one else.

One week later Sonny disappeared. Carlo flipped his shit. He wasn’t sure if Sonny disappeared on his own or if someone else did it.

For a long minute I considered calling Milos and asking if he was behind what happened to Sonny. Except I knew the answer. Milos would know I knew and see it as the pitiful need to cling to him it was. I couldn’t do it. Despite my promise to him, I made a new promise to myself, never to call him.

It’s what I reminded myself of over the next few weeks as thoughts of Milos lingered. Yet thirteen months later I would call him. And yes, it was only because I wondered if I was on the brink of death. He also kept his promise—he came for me and he saved my life, then took another life for me.