“He wasn’t—” I try to ease whatever pain I could be causing, but Blake storms out of the room before I can finish. Barrett seems satisfied with his ability to shut his brother down, but I’m not thankful for his uninformed efforts.
“Are you okay? He’s just mad that he got put on the backup team instead of the one with Patrov. But he might be… if he had…” He trails, and I cock my head confused, glaring into his gray eyes filled with hesitation.
“Backup team?” I repeat.
“Yeah… just in case—”
“No… you’re telling me that this type of mission had a backup team ready to go before it even began?” He seems to realize he might have fucked up, and his mouth parts slightly as his eyes trail to the door.
“Kira—” He stretches his hands out, palms facing the floor as he attempts to soothe me, but I don’t let him.
“Get out.” I snap, and his face lowers into a puddle pout.
“You don’t have to be so cold all the time, Kira. I was just trying to help.”
“Please!” I sharply raise my voice before stopping myself, regaining composure before I continue. “Leave. Please, leave.” He continues to stare at me, frozen in place. “Now,” I command, and at that, he jolts over to the door and slams it behind him. I'm about to stick my head back out and yell at him for being a fucking child, and then he murmurs, “Shit,” as his heavy feet carry him back down the stairs.
My shoulders drop, and I roll my eyes. What in the actual fuck was that about? I shove it to the side because I cannot begin to think about the actual repercussions of knowing what he just divulged to me. Whether an accident or not, he seemed very sure of himself. There was no confusion in anything he was communicating.
So naturally, my mind betrays me for ignoring its desire to solve this as I begin to change into my clothes for the day. Instead of being focused on the task at hand, I’m bombarded with the events of last night’s date. They’re only flashes, but every one of the images is of Romeo. The way he looked at me, leaned in while I spoke, smiled at me when I looked away, touched me as we kissed, and watched me walk inside for the night. Every little detail that I don’t want to think about because I can’t afford feelings in my line of work is bubbling to the surface. Like I’ve added too much soap to the bath, and I can’t find the water. Pointless, useless, yet nevertheless they grow higher and higher until I know I must be avoiding grief. There is no other explanation as to why I just can't get him out of my head.
My heart beats a little faster when I think of him. My stomach does this weird thing where I think it's being pulled out of me, and I think I just need his body to get over it. Because I’m mad and frustrated and boiling with rage for what his family is trying to do to mine. That’s it. That’s the fire I need to pop all the bubbles— resentment.
“Hurry up. We’re going to be late, Kira.” Barrett calls from the bottom of the steps. We have our first meeting with Kias about the events of last night. They’ll be casting the video call to the tv downstairs in the living room. Everyone’s expected to be in uniform, but I couldn’t find mine, so I’m in a navy-blue jumpsuit that I’m pretty sure is Armani. It basically looks black. And while the perfectionist in me really believes that I’ll be pulled off the mission if I attend the meeting in the wrong color, the defiant side of me wants to say fuck all of you for not warning me that there was a hit on our backs.
It’s totally possible that they didn’t know, but here’s the deal, in any mob family, you know when you’re being challenged. You know if you’ve challenged someone else and what could happen because of it. The sheer fact that they had a backup team for me means that they must have known I would need it soon into the mission—or, perhaps someone is trying to kill me. The thought only settles for a second as I walk down the steps, and then I reject it, not wanting to think about something so preposterous.
I join the rest of the guys on the couch, glancing around the room to see if I can name anyone else besides the brothers, but I don’t see anyone I’ve worked with before. Someone sets a laptop on the driftwood coffee table, and the tv lights up as they drag a video call across the screen and expand it to fit to the corners.
“Good?” Kias is looking over his screen with those haunting blue eyes, and the boys give him a thumbs up while Barrett answers verbally.
“Yep. We’ve got you up on the television, sir.”
“Great. Good morning everyone. Thank you all for being available on such short notice.”
Less short than I previously thought. I wonder if he knows about this backup team situation. “We have a couple of things to discuss before we let you all get your days started. The first thing I want to discuss is Ms. Volkova’s modeling.” He pulls out a sheet of paper and runs his finger along the text on it as he mouths the words he’s reading.
“Yes. So, Lev is going to bring your,” he air-quotes, “managerfor your modeling. He’ll get all the calls about auditions, shoots, etcetera. From now on, we have an in-home chef, so your address will no longer be open for any delivery services that might leak that information to third parties. We also have you signed up for 5 a.m. workout classes, five days a week, starting tomorrow. Any questions regarding this aspect of the mission, Kira?” He looks up from his paper.
“No, sir.” I shake my head, and I think he notices the navy-colored jumpsuit. There’s a pause, and I don’t know if it's the connection or if he is contemplating calling me out on it. Either way, he ends up nodding once before looking back down at his paper and continuing to read.
“Next up, details regarding last night's attack.” He puts down the paper and folds his arms over his chest, shaking his head. “It’s a tough one. And obviously, we don’t have all the answers yet, but we’re trying to figure it out. If another mafia family did this, it would be odd for them not to step up and make themselves known. Clearly someone was sending a message, but what that message is, we aren’t certain. However, we lost great men last night, and rest assured they will not go unavenged. I’ll have further details on this as it pans out, but for now, are there any questions?” He looks between us, and I feel like asking why they were so prepared for disaster to the point of having a replacement team, yet there is no news on it. But I don’t move, don’t even think I breathe properly as I wait for someone else to speak.
I still want this— to be completely in charge of Odessa one day. And if that means sucking it up and not asking the questions begging to be answered simply so that I might get what I want, then that’s what I’ll do. I have to choose Odessa. They’re the only family I have.
If I’m close to Kias, I’m that much closer to my goal. That much closer to the day when I remove that last obstacle. And then—I’ll be the one calling the shots. No more unanswered questions.
“Okay.” He slides the paper away when he sees no one is curious about anything. Why would we be, though? We aren’t trained to ask questions. We’re trained to take orders.
“Lastly, I would like to know how your evening went with Romeo, Kira.”
He’s not called me Kira in front of my team before. Some guys glance at each other as if to insinuate what I know they will talk about later. I ignore them and try to take steady breaths, so my pink cheeks don’t grow redder.
“Yes, it went really well. We’ll have every weekend together for the next four weeks, so I expect to gain all of his trust by the end of the month.”
He nods along as I speak, jumping in as soon as I pause. “Good. Now, I’ll also need you to send weekly updates. There should always be new information to report, or I’ll assume you are not doing what we sent you to do. So, by whatever means possible, you must not fail. We need to keep making moves towards their weak points. Then we can commence with their immediate take-down.”
“Yes, sir.” I swallow the lump in my throat because I have no idea how I am supposed to do this. Last night was a great start, but I could barely get anything emotional out of Romeo at all. Now I need to deliver new information regarding possible weak points every week, and I feel slightly nervous. Emphasis on the“slightly”because the drive in me to win is far greater than any fear could dominate.