I didn’t expect Julij to dive into new business ventures one day after the casket with his father was lowered into the ground, but when he learned the V brothers were due in Chicago tonight, he packed a suitcase and left New York by my side. That’s not what struck a nerve, though... Anatolij boarding the plane with us without a word or explanation, did.
There’s something peculiar about him. The sophistication of Prince Charming mixed with the wickedness of Scar from “The Lion King.” He carries himself with an abundance of respect and an undeniable sense of conviction, and he talks like a Commander strategizing his next move. He fooled me into believing he’s the two-point-oh version of the bosses from the olden days like the infamous Al Capone, whom Julij compared him to a few weeks ago.
But there’s more to Anatolij than meets the eye. More layers than most notice. For a reason I can’t yet understand, he favorsmeover his nephew. We spent the better part of the flight back to Chicago engrossed in a conversation about the hit on Layla. With no connection to the matter, he offered to help in any way he can.
It got me thinking... connecting the dots.
“How’s Jackson doing?” Julij asks, marching across the room to shake my hand.
The king-of-the-world attitude is back in full—a defense mechanism designed to hide his insecurities. He disregards the V brothers and the need for introductions, his eyes fixed on me, awaiting an answer.
I motion behind his back. “That’s Vinn and Vince, and that’s their right hand, Caro.”
“I had an idea,” he continues, without as much as a nod in the V brothers’ direction. “You’re not gonna like it.”
Vinn’s jaw tightens, eyes sparkling with annoyance that paints his face bright red. Looks like we’re off to agreatstart. Under different circumstances, I’d deal with his shitty attitude first, but right now, I don’t give a fuck. He’s onto something. I can tell. Any idea is worth pursuing if it’ll help me find Layla. No way he’s referring to anything else. He’s on his toes, worried, impatient, and desperate to find her. Under normal circumstances, his feelings would be bothersome, but right now, I don’t give a fuck who loves Layla if anyone is ready to turn every rock, check every lead, and kill anyone who stands in my way to her. Julij will. He won’t rest until she’s back in Chicago. Safe, withme.
He’d happily give his arm to make it happen.
I’d happily detach his arm from his body to teach him a lesson.Don’t touch what’s mine. Don’t dream about it either.
“Spit it out,” Vince seethes.
“I know someone who might know exactly where Layla is.”
I narrow my eyes, straining to see the big picture among the white noise of obsessive worry thrashing inside me like a pissed-off snake. The answer leaps in front of me out of nowhere and smacks me across the face. Fuck.
Why didn’t I think ofhersooner?
“Jess.”
Julij’s right. I don’t fucking like this.
CHAPTER NINE
Layla
My heart beats double-time, ramming against my ribs hard enough to cause pain. The sound of soft footsteps coming from behind me catches me by surprise. I half expect Dante to materialize before me, lethal, ruthless, and unforgiving. I scramble to my feet, my body feeble, fragile. Pulse throbs in my ears when I spin to stand face to face with Jean.
“Are youinsane?!” she booms, hands akimbo, murder in her eyes. “Why did you call him?!”
“You told me to say goodbye, remember?” My voice mirrors the emotions rolling inside me—fear, helplessness, defeat.
She grabs my arm and tugs hard, manhandling me back toward the bar. “Yeah, but I was just teasing. I didn’t think you’d actually do it. Shit, Layla, what the hell were you thinking?! Did you tell him where you are? Is he coming?” An unhealthy dose of panic pushes her voice higher an octave.
“I didn’t tell him anything. I cut the call the second he realized that it was me calling.”
She stops to turn my way, or else I’d miss her beautifully cocked eyebrow and how she’s scrunching her nose at me like I’m certifiably insane. “Youdidn’ttalk to him? Then why the hell did you call him? Jesus, Layla, you’re so fucking confusing! You called him, so you might’ve as well said goodbye.”
I’mconfusing? Can she hear herself when she speaks?
“I can’t keep up with you. First, you tell me to call him, then you’re pissed off I did. What did you expect me to do?”
“Let me think,” she mocks, tapping her chin with her long, red nail, a condescending look on her ghastly pale face. “Either call him back and apologize or stop living in the past and get a grip! He’s not going to kill you! It’s been two weeks, but no show. He doesn’t want anything from you anymore.”
As cruel as that sounds, as deep as her words cut, Jean’s right. Dante’s unlike any man I ever crossed paths with. With his connections, money, and several skilled men at his command, he has the means to find me but chooses not to.
It’s time to face the music. Accept, that the three months we shared were all fate had planned for us.