14
Aleksandra
Two days later…
I pull Antonio aside after breakfast. He’s been busy entertaining the other mafia families, which has spared me from dealing with him too many times over the last forty-eight hours.
The twins have been with me in the living room during the day and the bedroom in the evening. Thankfully, Antonio hasn’t separated us again.
We have meals with the other guests, and Sophia and Liam seem to get along with the other children. Me, I keep to myself. Nikki has been polite, offering a warm smile, but I can’t help but wonder if she’s trying to get information for the mafia.
“Yes?” Antonio asks as I grab his arm and lead him just outside the commotion with the other families.
The guards breeze past as they clean up the dishes from breakfast, ignoring the conversation between the two of us. Although I don’t feel like there’s any privacy, I don’t want to be away from my children, either.
“I want to see Mikhail,” I say.
Antonio’s gaze meets mine. “That isn’t a good idea,Tesorina.” He brushes a strand of hair behind my ear. The gesture is intimate, and I should push his hand away, but I don’t.
“Why not? Why can’t I see my brother?”
He’s been in their custody for just over two days. What have they done to him?
“You wouldn’t like what you’d see,” he says.
I shouldn’t be surprised, but it’s a punch to the gut. “Because you’ve tortured him?” Mikhail can be an asshole at times, but I wouldn’t wish anything bad on him.
“I kept my promise,Tesorina. My hands are clean,” Antonio says.
“Ordering a man to be tortured isn’t keeping your hands clean,” I retort. I’m not blind to the fact that he has interrogators downstairs, causing Mikhail to suffer. The bratva would be doing the same if we were under their roof.
“Precisely why you don’t need to see Mikhail,” Antonio says. “Go, enjoy the company of your children and our guests. They will be returning home soon.”
“And me? When might I be allowed to return home?”
I don’t care about when his guests leave. They’re not prisoners. And while he’s been generous with letting me roam his estate, I’m still held captive. Just because I have a nice bed and a warm meal doesn’t detract from the fact that I’m without my freedom.
“You heard Mikhail the other day. He’s not inviting you to return to the bratva compound,” Antonio says.
I tug my bottom lip between my teeth. I heard him, but I didn’t want to believe it. “He doesn’t mean it,” I say. “I’m welcome in my own home.” I’m certain it was a show, for Antonio’s sake.
“And if you’re not? What will that mean for your children?” Antonio asks.
Would Mikhail or his men murder me because they believe I’ve consorted with the Italians? The bratva doesn’t take prisoners. Instead, they kill any man who gets in their way or interrupts their plans.
Is that a risk that I’m willing to take?
It’s not only my life, but my two children. There’s no sense in lying to Antonio; I suspect he can see right through the facade. “I don’t know,” I say. “If you don’t let Mikhail leave, then I suppose I could return, and my safety would be ensured.”
“Who would take Mikhail’s place as the bratva leader?” Antonio asks.
Is he asking because he wants information? There are always two underbosses for the Pakhan, spies who watch over the captain, the Brigadier.
Yuri is one of Mikhail’s underbosses, but so is Dmitri. And if one were to take Mikhail’s place, I’m not sure which it would be. I’m not privy to the politics of the bratva. I’m kept out of their meetings.
Would they fight for the position of Pakhan?
“I don’t know who the next boss would be,” I say. It’s not a lie, but I also don’t want to jeopardize the lives of any more bratva men. Assuming they’re still alive after the Italians attacked my home.