10
Aleksandra
I pretend to read, seated by the fireplace. It gives me the best vantage point, with the wall to my back, to see the twins and the door.
The kids are seated on the floor, telling stories, sharing tales of their recent adventures, which happen to all be terrifying encounters with Russian men.
Mikhail is behind the threats, the fears that have been instilled in these kids. And while I’m not happy that Liam had been snatched, I’d have never wished that on anyone else.
The book doesn’t hold my attention, but I keep it propped on my knees, my legs bent as I turn the page every so often. I don’t want anyone to know that I’m listening in on their conversations.
I don’t think the kids would care, but there are a few adults, women I don’t know. Which means I can’t trust them.
I catch a glimpse of Antonio by the door. I stare at the pages in the book, feeling his presence and his attention on me.
He hasn’t stepped into the room or called out to me. I flip the page as I pretend to be interested in the contents.
He disappears down the hallway, and I wait a beat before standing. The twins don’t seem to notice or care that I’ve gotten up from the floor.
I saunter to the door and head out into the hallway, curious about what is happening. Why bring all the Italian mafia families together? Are they intending on waging war with the bratva?
I’d reach out to Mikhail and warn him, but if what Antonio and the children said was true, then he’s behind the vicious attacks.
Antonio rounds the corner, slamming right into me. “What are you doing,Tesorina?”
“Looking for the bathroom,” I say, attempting to come up with a reasonable excuse. No one noticed that I’d left the room.
Am I no longer under house arrest? Or are the guards too busy to keep an eye on me?
“I’ll take you there,” he says, grabbing my arm. He leads me in the opposite direction, across from the living room I had just occupied with the children.
Antonio waits for me to go into the bathroom.
“Okay, I don’t have to go,” I say.
His eyes twinkle. “I know. You were snooping.”
“I wasn’t snooping,” I counter. “What may have looked like snooping was mild curiosity.”
“Let me guess. You want a tour.”
Is he mocking me? “Are you offering to give me one?” I ask.
His jaw is tight, his lips a straight line without any hint of humor. “No,” he says. “If you’d like, I can escort you upstairs to your room, or you can return to the living room with your children.”
“Not much of a choice,” I say and glance at the room with the kids. “Is it true?”
Antonio looks at me like a child who’s stalling for bedtime. He glances at his watch. “Is what true,Tesorina?”
“Mikhail is responsible for traumatizing all the children in there.”
He leans back against the wall, his arms across his chest. “It’s a lot of power for one man to claim responsibility when he works out of New York City,” Antonio says. “But yes, he has affiliated with other bratva organizations to terrorize the Italians, specifically their children.”
I don’t want to believe it, but with what Luka has told me, it all fits together. “Mikhail isn’t at the complex,” I say.
“We already know that. We hit the building early this morning, before dawn.”
I gasp. “Were there any casualties?” While I’m not fond of my brother, there are a few men I still have respect for, like Luka.