Ilsa’s mouth tightened. “We aren’t talking about the same thing.”
“Are we not?” I exploded, throwing my hands in the air. “Come on, Ilsa. Roman was horrible to you when he first got his hands on you. You told me so yourself.”
“I was horrible to her,” Roman cut in, something akin to regret in his eyes. Did he beat himself up daily for the pain he had caused her? I hoped so. Ilsa deserved the very best, and the Mafia don should be kissing the ground she walked on. “You don’t have to remind me of how I will be making it up to her every fucking day for the rest of my life.”
Ilsa reached up and touched his cheek, drawing his attention. The look she gave him was purely for his benefit, as if to soothe his tortured soul. “The way you did it this morning was such a great start to your groveling.”
“Ew,” I breathed. “Please don’t give me any mental images.”
“However,” Roman continued, turning away from his wife to face me. There was a light in his eye that I knew only came from Ilsa, and I imagined that if I wasn’t sitting here, they would already be going at it on the sofa. “If Naomi wants to be with Gavril, I’m not going to stand in her way, just like I wouldn’t want her to do the same for us.”
“Thank you,” I acknowledged. I did want to be with Gavril and needed to get back to him ASAP.
Roman held up his hand. “Don’t thank me yet. You need to know what is circulating around LA right now among our circles.”
I opened my mouth, but Roman launched into his story. “Gavril Kirilenko has just declared war on a man named Konstantin Poroshenko,” he started. “Konstantin was Stanislav Orlov’s right-hand man, and he has revived the Krasnaya Bratva that we dismembered months ago.”
I knew this. I knew that Gavril was going to war.
“Gavril was wise enough to put out feelers from the get-go. This will remain purely a Russian decision,” Roman continued, his mouth tightening. “The Belaya Bratva will not seek to become involved with anyone else, and the other organized crime syndicates in LA have agreed to the terms.”
A sense of pride surged through me. My husband had been wise enough to limit the violence. But quickly I realized that it also meant he would be fighting this war alone.
I drew in a breath. “Who do you think will come out on top then?”
“Honestly?” Roman’s gaze turned hard. “I don’t give a shit if they kill each other until there’s nothing left, Naomi.”
His words were biting, but I realized that there was some truth behind them. It wasn’t like the different Mafias were exactly buddies, and I imagined if I asked Gavril the same question about Roman, he would give me the same answer.
Still, it was a hard pill to swallow. “I need to contact Gavril,” I finally said. “I need for you to call him and let him know that I’m here.” I wanted to go back to him, to be by his side as he launched this war and do the very best I could to keep him alive.
Roman let out a bitter laugh. “I’m not contacting Kirilenko.”
Shocked, I stared at him. “But you have to let him know I’m here.”
He shook his head, and even Ilsa seemed surprised by his reluctance.
“I can’t. Don’t misunderstand me. When I say that the other organized crime syndicates have agreed to stay out of this mess that Kirilenko has gotten himself in, I mean it. I doubt he’d pick up if he saw me calling. But more importantly, any contacts I make with him will be viewed as the Marchettis getting involved.” His eyes hardened. “I am not a part of this war, Naomi. I’m sorry.”
“Please,” I begged, desperation in my voice. “I have to see him, and you know how to contact him. Send a damn pigeon if you need to, but let me speak to him.” I wasn’t above leaving to find him myself, but knowing that Jon was somewhere out there, I couldn’t.
I was stuck.
Roman gave me a sad look as he pushed himself off the sofa, Ilsa quickly following. “I am guaranteeing your safety as a favor to my wife. I will not go any further on this, Naomi. I owe Gavril Kirilenko nothing. If he dies, he dies. End of story.”
The pain was swift and all-consuming. Gavril couldn’t die. I looked at Ilsa for help. “Please,” I begged her. “You know I’m carrying his child. That should be enough.”
“Enough,” Roman said coldly, cutting off any further conversation. “If you have been with Kirilenko, then even he would have told you that this is how the game is played. You are welcome in my home, Naomi. He is not. Don’t make me choose to kick you out.”
I watched helplessly as he strode from the room, his body tense with the conversation we had just had.
“Let me talk to him,” Ilsa finally said after a few minutes, her eyes trained in the direction that her husband had just left. “Why don’t I show you to your room and send your food up there?”
In the end, I allowed my best friend to do so, and after a shower, a change of clothes, and some food, I drifted off into a torturous sleep. It was night when I woke and I relieved my bladder before sitting on the bed, contemplating my options. Roman would be content to let me sit here for the rest of my days and pine after Gavril, not caring that my child would need his or her father.
I could understand Roman’s reluctance. Gavril and Roman were enemies, and Roman had his own reputation to think of. Just because Ilsa and I weren’t enemies didn’t mean that Roman owed me favors. And if he were seen to be involved with Gavril’s war, then all hell would break loose across LA.
But at the same time, just because he had such an aversion to my husband didn’t mean I had to suffer the results. I belonged at Gavril’s side, and if Roman wasn’t going to help me get there, then I had to find my own way.