Chapter Twenty-six

Celia

When I wake up I’m alone. I roll over, the sheets are still warm from Milos. Pushing myself up, I run my hands through my damp hair. I lean against the soft velvet-tufted headboard surveying the room.

It had been dark in the room Milos was in. I hadn’t been able to see much besides him, but this feels very different. While the comforter and sheets are silky black, the headboard is white, as are thick fluffy rugs that cover dark hardwood floors. I’m almost positive it isn’t regular wallpaper on the walls—it’s silk in a silverish gray. The room is huge, there is a seating area with a lone leather chair, a side table with a lamp that looks out of the wall of thick glass with an amazing view of Lake Michigan.

A sound grabs my attention. Milos is leaning against the doorway. “Hungry?”

I’m not sure why I’m shy. I nod.

“I made you something. Do you want me to bring it in to you or do you want to eat in the dining room?” he asks gently.

“I want to get out of bed,” I mutter as I lift the covers only to find I’m naked. I hate the way I blush.

A black dress shirt lands in my lap. I look up to find Milos smiling down at me. “I had some of your clothes brought from the house. They’re in the closet, over there.” He points to a closed door. “Coffee?”

“Please.” I nod as I put the shirt on.

“Follow the smell of it.”

I look up but he’s already gone. Exhaling slowly, I push up from the bed and go into the walk-in closet. It’s huge, as large as the one at home. I blink a few times, he said a few things. If I’m missing any clothes from home, I can’t tell.

Laziness has me grabbing a maxi dress in indigo blue. I’m not sure if we’re leaving here. I think it’s nice enough to go most anywhere, at the same time comfortable enough to lounge around in.

There’s basically a cupboard but could be a whole other closet door that is closed. I try the door handle and it won’t move. I’m wondering if it’s a safe filled with guns or something. The smell of coffee hits me, I shrug. Coffee is more important.

Milos doesn’t say much as we eat what I see is basically lunch. There’s tension in him. I’m wondering if he’s mad at me. I have a feeling he is. When we finish, he clears the table. I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do, so I stay put sipping the remainder of my coffee.

As he sits down, those yellow eyes are on me. It’s time. “How did you know my uncle wants me dead?”

Mind fuzzy, I don’t remember saying it. Then again, in the bright light of day I don’t remember anything after the exploding—I close my eyes, then I was in the shower and more blood and Milos wore his shoes.

“Celia, how did you know?” The words are tight, controlled. Someone is in trouble and it isn’t me.

“With the way you were acting, I knew something was wrong. So I tried listening in on conversations when people didn’t know I was there. I overheard people talking. Is your uncle still alive?”

His jaw clenches. “For now. He won’t know the man he sent after me is dead. I’m not sure how long it will take for him to figure it out. I don’t want him to know, for as long as possible.”

I swirl my cold coffee and nod. “Okay. So we pretend a man didn’t die last night because I killed him.” I nod. “I can do that.”

Eyes narrow on me. “You can.”

Pushing out air, I nod. “I actually can. I don’t really feel anything but relief he’s dead, and kind of satisfaction it was me that did it. What does that make me? Where’s the horror? The disgust at what I did. Why don’t I feel anything? I killed a man last night.”

He shakes his head. “You didn’t kill a man. You stopped a threat to me and you. Would you feel bad because you threw out the trash that was piling up in your house for a month?”

I shake my head. “Do you know Carlo said the same exact thing to me? The death the mafia deals in is taking out trash in one form or another.”

“He’s right. The man was a hired gun, his kill count so high he averaged five people a day since the day he was born. He didn’t start doing this until he was twenty-four, twelve years ago. And most of those people were collateral damage, people in the wrong place—between him and his target. I’m sorry I didn’t protect you the way I should have—”

“No, that’s exactly why I did it. You would have died if I hadn’t done what I did. I couldn’t have…” I close my eyes against the tears.

I’m in his arms. “I died a thousand deaths when you screamed and the door slammed closed behind you. My one job in this life is to protect my woman, no pain, no tears, no fucking guns held to your head.”

His phone rings, I feel his body tighten in resentment. It’s the only reason I don’t argue when he answers. I can’t hear what’s being said. He sighs, though, and tells whoever it is he’ll be there in fifteen minutes.

He sighs again as he runs his hand through my hair. “I have to go. I don’t want to but I have to.”

The tortured way he admitted how he feels gives me the strength to run my hand over his cheek. “Then go. And I’ll be here when you get back.”

Catching me behind my neck, he presses his lips to my forehead. “You aren’t allowed to leave here. We’re going to be here for at least another week, maybe two. It depends. I need to be in the city, not an hour away, and I don’t want to sleep here and you at the house. A housekeeper is coming in to work in a few hours. Anything you want or need for the next few weeks, tell her and she’ll get it, anything.”

I nod. Another kiss, this time on my cheek, then he’s up, walking out the front door.

Curious, I go on a tour of the place. I love it. It’s airy and comfortable with beautiful views of the lake. There are three bedrooms that each have an attached bathroom with a half bath off the hallway for guests. It’s so large there’s also a workout room, a formal living room and a room with a television that’s a little more cozy. I’m also not surprised there’s a locked door, I’m pretty sure it’s his office. The kitchen is marble and granite and has an eight-burner stove and double ovens. If it weren’t for the views outside, I would think it was any home in a neighborhood filled with families.

Milos said hours, but maybe twenty minutes later the housekeeper arrives, telling me she’ll be here for several hours, to take my time getting her a list. I spend the day in a hair mask as I read on the large, velvet sofa in the room with the television.

A few hours after he leaves I get a text from Milos telling me he won’t be done until it’s time for us to leave for Carlo’s home and the engagement party at eight.

I decide to take my time getting ready and start with a long soak in the enormous jetted tub. After a half hour I get out and finally wash out the mask in the shower. As I unwrap my hair I wonder what the hell I’m going to do with it. I know what I want to do, but I don’t have the skills for it.

My phone pings with a text from Sergei asking if I want company. I text him yes please, I need help with my hair.

Three minutes later he’s walking through the front door. “Hey, how are you?” His eyes are soft as he studies me.

I sigh. “I guess I’m a sociopath or something because I’m fine. I was freaked out last night. But today…fine. Which actually freaks me out more than what I did. Shouldn’t I be more, I don’t know, sad or something? What was it like the first time you…”

He shrugs. “Not good, I threw up once before from nerves and twice after because the blood went every fucking where. I had nightmares about it for a few weeks, then out of nowhere I didn’t think about it at all. The next one was much easier.”

“Huh, I didn’t have any nightmares,” I mutter.

“Don’t feel guilty, it was self-defense. You saved Milos and probably the lives of his brothers. It would have gotten very bloody very fast. The man you killed had a twenty-one-round extended capacity magazine in the gun, the one on his hip and two more magazines on him. The bullets were Teflon and hollow point—it’s why it made such a big mess. Believe me when I tell you everyone is grateful for what you did. Except Milos.” He rolls his eyes.

My chest twists painfully at his words. “Why is Milos not grateful?”

“Because he doesn’t want you with blood on your hands. You’re supposed to be kept safe and protected from this life.” He goes into the kitchen and grabs a bottle of water.

Too late now. And it doesn’t matter because I don’t regret it. I would do it again if I had a choice. Trailing behind him, I ask what I’ve been wondering. “What happened to his other condo?”

He frowns. “I think he still owns it but he gave it to Aleksander. He bought this one a few months ago. It’s three floors down. So what are you thinking for your hair?”

“I’m wanting those sexy waves you gave me for graduation. Can we do it?”

Sergei grins. “Oh yeah, not a problem.”

Two hours later, I’m studying myself in the mirror while Sergei claps excitedly.

“I’m so good. But it’s easy when I’m working with quality.” He sighs.

Any other time and I’d argue with him, but today I can’t. I’m beautiful, it’s amazing. The white lace dress has a high neck, long sleeves, and the hem falls to the floor with a small puddle of a train behind me. There is a dark sheer lining that won’t allow anything show beneath the lace covering me. The silhouette is a sheath that hugs my breast, hips and cinches ever so slightly at my waist before falling straight down. It’s a beautiful dress, and in it I’m beautiful.

He pulls out his phone. “I’m going to take a picture. Milos is going to lose it. He’ll fall in love all over again. I love this dress, it’s like a wedding dress. Perfect for the engagement party.”

His words make me cranky. “No. No pictures. And don’t say that.”

He’s pouting as he puts his phone away. “Say what?”

“He’ll fall in love again. He doesn’t love me. Let’s not go there right now.” I force a deep breath. I will not cry and mess up my makeup when it took forever.

His bewildered expression somehow makes it worse. “You think he doesn’t love you? The guy who paid for four years of college, killed for you, bought you a car so you’d never have to walk again, has watched over you for all this time. Why the hell do you think he doesn’t love you?”

I’m exasperated. “Because he said so. He told me not to ask for love. That it was a hormone that would fade. It needed to be enough he respected and cared for me. All that other stuff is straight of the mafia handbook for control, contain, keep. Him not being able to have me for years is the only thing keeping him interested. If I’d been with him from the beginning it would have been dead and over long ago. My guess is it’s the marriage thing. He didn’t want to get married earlier and Carlo wouldn’t have allowed anything less. Now that he’s ready for marriage, he’ll take the one he knows.”

“What the hell do you mean he told you?” Sergei’s voice goes up an octave.

“I asked him. Or was trying to ask him and he knew. He cut me off and was like don’t ask for more. This is a marriage based on respect and sex. Like I said, he’s after kids, that’s all he cares about. Come on, Sergei, he could have lied and told me he loved me and used it to get me to do anything he wants. The man is so manipulative it’s not even fair. He didn’t though—because he respects me.” I hate how I mutter the last bit like a petulant child.

He opens his mouth to argue, but Milos is in the doorway of the bathroom. “Sergei. Leave.”

Holy shit, my stomach twists so painfully it leaves me gasping. How much of that did he hear? And how annoyed will he be?

Sergei doesn’t argue. Giving Milos a wide berth, he disappears.

I can’t say a word, don’t dare.

Yellow runs over me as he steps closer. “I love the dress. I also love the way your hair reminds me of how it looks spread out after I’ve fucked you. But kotyonok, I don’t like not seeing you under all that makeup. Give me my Celia back with the pink cheeks, and lips the color of your nipples I love sucking on.”

How does he do that? With so few words, he turns me inside out and upside down. He’s going to pretend he didn’t hear what me and Sergei were talking about? I’m good with that…I think. Whatever it takes to keep him looking at me like he is now.

“Okay,” I whisper in a shaky exhale.

His large hand is gentle as he cups my face. The light caress of his thumb over my lips sends a shiver through me. “Thank you. I do not dare kiss you the way I want. Your father will bitch until the day he dies if we are late. I’m going to go get changed.”

I nod. As he walks away I can’t help notice, he did that thing again where he speaks formally. No contractions, everything measured. What happened in the shower comes back to me. How his Russian accent was so strong it was hard to understand him, the way he spoke was anything but careful and controlled. Maybe…no, stop it. Accept what he can give you—it feels pretty damn close to love.

Sighing, I work to tone down the makeup Sergei helped me with. By the time I’m done it’s only enough to even out my skin tone and give a little bit of color.

I find Milos in the formal living room sipping scotch. “Scotch?”

He smiles. “Don’t tell anyone. When I really want to enjoy my liquor, I drink scotch. Vodka doesn’t roll around in your mouth quite the way scotch does.”

I’m surprised by his admission. “I’ll never tell another soul,” I promise gravely.

He grins. “In that case, I hate borscht and so much of Russian food with the sweet and sour to it. Sometimes, it feels like I’m faking at being Russian. It doesn’t matter if I speak Russian or not and grew up reading Russian literature. Russian literature is so fucking depressing. Every time I go to Russia all I want is to leave again and never go back. As cold as Chicago is, I shudder at trying to make it through a winter there.”

My smile fades and my chest tightens. I’m touched Milos is really talking—sharing with me. And it’s a secret I have no doubt he doesn’t even share with his brothers.

I reach for his glass, he holds it tight for a moment before letting go with a curious smile. I sip. “Macallan, good choice. So many times I feel guilty as hell people don’t recognize I’m part Filipino. I don’t know a thing about the culture. I’ve tried the food. I don’t hate it or anything but I don’t love it either. I hated Carlo for not letting us have anything to do with any of it, not the food, language, not a damn thing. Only now that I’m an adult, another part of me is relieved. Can’t I just be me, without the pressure of being something other—no box of White, Asian, all of that? I just want to be me.”

“You’re willing to raise our children speaking Russian.” The fingers he brushes against my tummy send wet heat to my core.

I can’t help leaning into his touch, he’s addictive. “I’m willing to give our children another world they can live in and learn from. I will also be willing to support them if they want to leave it and try another world.”

He flattens his palm, gently stroking me. “You are going to be an amazing mother. I can’t wait to see you with our children. I find I’m as hard at the thought of you with a belly, your breasts—” He shakes his head and steps away. Only now do I realize how heavily I was leaning against him. “I keep talking and we won’t just be late, we won’t make it.”

Blushing, I swallow the last of the scotch.

“As beautiful as the dress is, it’s missing something.” He slides his hand into the right inner pocket of his suit and withdraws a slim black velvet box.

I accept it with an attempt at a smile. Jewelry has never been all that appealing to me. But I know the world of money Milos moves in, and a man who wears a watch worth two hundred thousand dollars is going to ensure his woman, his most visible accessory, wears something as valuable. His accessory should complement him in every way.

Opening it, I find I’m right and wrong. I thought Milos wouldn’t put a collar on me, I’m wrong. It’s beautiful, there’s no question of that. Not simply a necklace, it’s a collar made of white gold or platinum, with square diamonds inlaid all the way around. From how clear and large the diamonds are I’m guessing it’s easily worth two hundred thousand.

“Thank you,” I murmur. keeping my eyes on it.

An exhale of air, almost a laugh. “Since you don’t like it, let’s try the other pocket.”

I’m shaking my head, but he’s already pulling out another thin velvet box from the inner left pocket of his suit.

“I didn’t say I didn’t like it—” I try to argue.

“No lying. I don’t want to have to spank you before we go. Open it,” he orders me.

It’s a necklace of sapphires and diamonds that match my engagement ring and eternity band that reappeared on my finger when I woke this morning. The design is of Xs and Os—hugs and kisses? This is clearly designed for me as the sapphires are cut into an X shape, not using a marquise cut to create the appearance of an X. The diamonds are round, each diamond is at least a carat. Touched Milos took the time to have it made, I smile. “I like this, it’s more—”

He sighs. “You will be getting a spanking tonight after we get home for all this lying. Last chance for me.”

I open my mouth but he’s pulled a square velvet box out of his pocket and opens it himself. It’s my tattoo and the design on the wall at his restaurant. A black cat silhouette made up of black diamonds, this time I have no doubt yellow diamonds are inlaid for the eyes. “Oh, Milos, it’s beautiful. I love it. Thank you.”

I’m sighing as I run a finger over it in awe.

His hand goes beneath my chin, pulling me up to his eyes. “Silver, no lies. I did good.”

Nodding, I smile up at him. “You did very good.” I turn my back to him and give it to him. “I want to wear it. Please put it on me.”

The chain is a thick gold that complements the yellow diamonds. He fastens it deftly. Satisfaction on his face as yellow runs over me.

A text alerts. “Car is here.” He slides the phone back into his pocket. “Come along, I don’t dare touch you. All I want is to take you to bed and sink inside you for hours.”

Yellow glows down at me, dark and intent. I glory in his need for me. This isn’t just me, addicted to him, greedy for him—Milos feels it too. Maybe it’s a good thing this isn’t love; I can’t imagine enduring Milos more intense than he is now.

I jump at the growl that comes from low in his throat. “Behave, witch. Stop looking at me like that.”

This time I smile as I blush. Before I make an idiot of myself, I lead the way out of the condo.

On the drive to Carlo’s house our discussion is light, going over who is going to be there. Basically all of the Outfit in Chicago and even a few mafia out of New York and Philadelphia to show the Levins respect. His brother Damien has gone back to Philadelphia so Vasily could come in for the weekend, then both he and Maxim would go back home until the wedding.

It isn’t until we’re less than five minutes away when Milos breaks the news. Ever the master manipulator, he leaves me barely any time to process it. “I’ve given Carlo permission to announce the engagement of Carina and Sandro tonight as well. Their marriage will happen a week after our wedding day in Vegas.”

I feel betrayed by him. “How could you? Does Carina know?”

His sigh is heavy as he shakes his head. “This is the way it needs to be. Carina will adjust.”

“Adjust?” We’ve stopped and the door is opened for me. “I hate you right now,” I mutter as I get out of the car. Did he really exhale the word perfect?

There’s no time to think before my mother is wrapping her arms around me. I go stiff. She feels it and her smile falls, as do her arms from me. Carina appears, ending the moment.

“Oh my god, Celia, you are gorgeous,” Carina whispers as she hugs me tight. “He’s here. You can meet him and see for yourself. He is such an asshole. This is awful.”

I blink back tears. She doesn’t know. I’m trying to figure out how to tell her when Milos pulls me into him, not very gently. I glare at him as I watch my mother guide Carina behind us.

Holy shit, there have to be almost three hundred people here, all of them mafia. There isn’t a single civilian among the crush of people who are mingling throughout the house and out over the extensive grounds.

Only moments after we arrive, Carlo gives a speech that lasts way too long and focuses only on Milos and what an amazing pakhan he is and how profitable his relationship with the Outfit has been. It all ends with and Celia got a degree—not even mentioning I got it Magna Cum Laude—and is pretty enough Milos is taking her as a bride.

There are salutes, I’m thinking more to do with being thankful Carlo has stopped talking. No one ever says a word about the wedding band already beside the engagement ring, or that I’m living with Milos already.

His uncle and cousins arrive almost a half hour after we do. They walk in as if they own the place. Carlo’s face when he sees him is the one time in my life when I agree with him. Then his mask comes down, he’s smooth as Milos introduces him.

Grigori smiles down at me, his blue eyes empty. Once again he reaches for me.

Milos tightens his hand that’s been glued to my waist and pulls me closer—away from his uncle. “I told you. No one touches my woman.”

Throwing back his head, Grigori laughs. Except it’s menacing, not filled with a sliver of humor. “Nephew, your woman is a revelation. A whore one night, a lady the next. I can see why you married her, you have the best of both worlds.”

I clench my jaw, not daring to show a reaction. Milos’s grip on my waist is painful, I feel his entire body go hard. Yet it’s Carlo who responds. “Careful there. That’s my daughter you’re talking about. This is my house, my city, and I’ve been making men disappear without a trace for fifty years.”

Tony Sabatini appears on the other side of me. He offers his hand to Grigori. “Tony Sabatini, it’s nice to meet you finally. It’s a shame the men your father sent to kill me and my son never made it back to you.”

Grigori loses his smile and stares at Tony’s hand as if it’s a viper ready to strike.

Milos looks from Tony to Grigori. “My grandfather sent someone to kill you, multiple people?”

While he nods, his sapphire eyes are on Grigori. “He didn’t like how close you were becoming to Dominic and me. Concerned you’d do exactly what you did and shut down your family’s trafficking operation in order to work with us. Two men, two different times, but then you did make the decision, your father accepted it, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.”

The air around us is vibrating with menace. Grigori attempts a smile that’s more of a grimace. “The great Tony Sabatini, who has killed so many men and women the devil himself will welcome you into hell. I hear you retired your ways and business for your young wife and children. Congratulations, I do hope you manage to keep them safe.”

Tony smiles. I’ve never seen anything like it before, and I’m scared of him, very, very scared. “I might have retired in business, but I’ll never retire the thing I’m best at, which is ending the lives of men.”

A scream of, “No!” causes me to jump.

Carina and a very large man are arguing, his hand is around her arm. I don’t even think before turning toward them, intent on kicking his ass. But Milos keeps me in place. “Leave it, Celia.”

“Leave it? He’s—” I try to argue.

Carlo shakes his head. “It’s her fiancé who needs to get her under control on his own.”

I look back to where they were, but they’re gone. “You really do not care who you marry your daughters off to, do you? All that matters is they have money and power.”

He chuckles. “I don’t see you complaining.”

When I look back to where Grigori and his sons were standing they’re gone, blending into the crowd. Luca is in their place with Dominic standing beside him. A woman clings to Luca, who is wearing an eye patch which appears to hide a recent wound.

In true mafia fashion, no one says a word about what happened. Both Regina and Christy are home. But I’m introduced to Luca’s wife, Bella. She’s sweet and it’s clear she isn’t comfortable in the crowd of people.

Luca smiles down at me. “Sandro is a good man. I promise you that. He’s not happy about the marriage either, but he will treat her right.”

I force a smile. “Will he let me visit her?”

“Yeah, of course. He isn’t going to keep her locked down. I mean, he’s going to do what he needs to in order to protect her. But’s it’s only about protection. Sandro has been my number two for over a decade. He’s steady, smart, and if he can handle an entire city he can handle one woman,” Luca assures me.

Tony chuckles. “Women are never as easy to handle as a city.”

Pasting on a smile, Milos and I mingle over the next hour, pretending as if everything is normal even though tension is everywhere.

It happens and there’s nothing I can do about it. Carlo announces the engagement of Carina and Sandro. I fight tears at how miserable Carina looks. All I want to do is go to her, but Milos tightens his hold any time I’m not right up against him. And my mother is keeping Carina at her side, far from me.

With how uncomfortable Luca’s wife is, I’m not surprised when she and Luca leave only ten minutes after Carlo announces Carina’s engagement.

What I am surprised by is that when they leave, so do others, until the huge house and grounds begins to empty from the nearly three hundred down to somewhere around fifty or sixty. It’s earlier than I thought it would be but I’m relieved—the sooner we can get the hell out of here, the better.

Finally I can’t take it anymore. “Milos, I have got to pee, for fuck’s sake. Can you give me three minutes?”

Milos narrows his eyes on me. “I’ll take you.”

Peter appears, whispers in his ear. “Take her to the restroom. Don’t leave her side.”

I shake my head as Peter nods. Annoyed, I move fast through the house, knowing exactly where I’m going. I’m almost to the door when it happens.

Grigori is in front of me, his large hand goes around my wrist. He yanks me into his arms, laughing like a fucking maniac. “Got you. You’re so soft and small, I understand—”

I don’t hear the gunshot. All I know is for the second night in a row a man’s head explodes right in front of me. I’m falling with him until I’m not. Milos is there, his hand around my arm, holding me tight against him. In his free hand is a gun he hands to Peter.

Ivan looks down at his father, then up to Milos.

Voice cold as ice, Milos says. “I told him no one touches my woman.”

Artem shakes his head in shock. “You bastard.”

“It’s a shame the way strokes run in our family. My condolences. Take your father home and bury him with honor that he was able to die in his bed at peace.” It’s an order.

Ivan and Artem share a look. Jaw clenched tight, Ivan nods. “Thank you for your condolences.”

Like he did last night, Milos picks me up and carries me out of the house and into the night. There’s no seat belt again, only his arms holding me tightly in his lap.

Nothing is said on the way home, not a word from anyone in the car. At least that I’m aware of, because I slip into sleep ten minutes in.