I narrow my eyes, wondering why he’s being so dismissive. It’s unlike Mikhail to go behind my back, so it makes me uneasy that he won’t tell me who he’d made the deal with. “Fine, I’m going out,” I say, turning away.
“Natalya,” Mikhail says my name as I get to the door.
I turn and glance at him. “What?”
“I’m sorry,” he says, the muscles in his jaw working. “Be careful on the streets. It’s not safe.”
I nod in response and then leave his office without another word. The apology doesn’t even begin to cut it. All my life I’ve been training at the academy to take control of the bratva, and now he’s telling me he doesn’t believe it will work out unless I’m married to Russian mafia royalty. I swallow my rage and head straight out the door, grabbing my purse I left hanging on the coat rack.
I head into the garage, intending to take one of the cars into town myself.
Popov straightens when he sees me, eyes wide. “Do you need me to take you somewhere, Miss Gurin?” he asks. Popov is Mikhail’s driver, generally.
I shrug. “I was planning on driving myself, as I don’t know if Mikhail has plans to go out.”
Popov shakes his head. “I don’t believe so.” He steps forward. “I can drive you where you want to go.”
I clench my jaw, as really I wanted to get out of the house alone and just drive somewhere and clear my head. “Okay, sure, thanks.” I nod and get into the back of Popov’s town car.
He grabs his chauffeur hat and then slides into the driver’s seat. “Where do you want to go?”
“Jonquils Cafe, please,” I say, knowing that one of their amazing mochas and a delicious cake will help take my mind off of the shit day I’m having.
I pull my cell phone out of my pocket and tap on Elias’ last message. My mind spinning at one-hundred miles an hour as I type out a response.
What the fuck are you playing at? You’re using that information against me, not my brother. I told you I’d find out if the rumor was true or not. Leave my family alone.
I clench my fist around the phone, wishing I could let out my rage on that son of a bitch face to face. He’s a coward and a bully, and I don’t want to stand for it anymore. And yet I know if I push too hard, he can ruin us all. I grit my teeth and stow my phone back in my pocket as Popov navigates through the busy traffic toward my favorite coffee shop.
The ding of my cell phone makes my stomach churn as I pull it out, my heart hammering wildly as I know I’m not going to like his response. I grab it and read the message, my entire body going numb. It’s a simple message, with a photo of Elias standing next to the famous and unmistakable George Washington statue in Boston.
Watch your back, Gurin.
I try not to panic, as he could have taken that photo any time. However, I have a very bad feeling that even when I thought I’d escaped Elias Morales, he’s not going to let me rest. It’s two days until Christmas, and if this photo was just taken, he’s here in Boston rather than in Chicago.
I swallow hard, stowing my cell back in my pocket and resting my head against the headrest. At least he won’t be able to find me. Boston is a huge city. I just hope I stay out of his path.
17
ELIAS
So much for time away from Natalya.
I watch her from afar as she walks down the street alone. It’s surprising that Mikhail allows her to wander the streets alone when the tensions between the mafia organizations in Boston are almost as high as they are in Chicago. Her driver dropped her here, and I watched as she gave him a wave and then turned south down the street. A wave of vicious protectiveness sweeps over me. If Natalya was mine, I’d ensure she had a bodyguard wherever she went.
I shake my head, wondering what the fuck is wrong with me. Five days I’d been home in Chicago and I was going out of my fucking mind. It was boring as hell and Hernandez was driving me crazy already, lecturing me on my duty to the family. I have no duty to the Estrada Cartel. I’m not in line to inherit, so I don’t really give a shit about any of it. All I want is to finish my senior year and head down to Mexico. My home. The place I never should have left.
And yet my uncle wants me to make political alliances and be at his beck and call. Eliza will be married off soon enough, forced into an arranged marriage that she doesn’t want. As will Lila, my younger cousin who attends the syndicate academy. Me and Lila couldn’t differ more apart from being the closest in age of all my father’s and uncle’s children. She’s always loved living in America, whereas I hated it. She’s always been naturally kind and good spirited, whereas I’ve had darkness inside of me for as long as I can remember. The seed of which was planted the night my father tore me from the home I’d always known.
I shake my head, trying to forget the scenes I witnessed that night. Instead, I focus my attention back to Natalya, who walks up to the entrance of an upmarket coffee shop called Jonquils. I roll my eyes, unsurprised by the place she picked out. Preferably, it would have been some dingy cafe or restaurant where I could sneak up on her, but this place is bright and clean.
“Fucking Gurin,” I mutter as I walk over the road at the crossing. She knows I’m here in Boston, if she’s taken my photo seriously, and she doesn’t realize that when I put my number on her phone at school, I also downloaded a background app that gives me access to her location data.
I open the door into the swanky coffee shop and spot Natalya instantly, her back to me in a little booth right at the back of the place. Awareness races down my spine as I realize how insane this really is, coming to Boston two days before Christmas just because I had to see her, torment her, touch her. I’ve lost the plot, that much is clear.
With every step I take toward her, my heart speeds up a little more. It’s ridiculous considering it’s just Natalya, the same girl I’ve spent years tormenting and teasing.
I don’t make myself known, instead I just slip into the booth on the other side.