Not waiting for her response, I leave the room in a fog of confusion.
* * *
Sitting down heavilyon my bed, I grab my cell off the desk and dial Kira’s number. She picks up after the first ring.
“Daniil! Nice to see your name pop up on my caller ID, even though it’s the middle of the night.” In the background, a car horn honks and yells ring out. The familiar sounds of New York City streets.
“And what are you still doing out at this late hour?” I chide jokingly.
“I could ask you the same thing!”
I snort. “Alright, fair point.” I lie back on the pillow and stare up at the ceiling of my bedroom. “I’m sorry I’m calling out of the blue. I know we haven’t spoken in a while. I’ve been busy.”
“Hell yeah, you have been. You’re a married man now, I hope you’ve been living in bed, having a shit ton of sweet newlywed sex—”
“Not quite,” I interrupt, rubbing the back of my neck. “That’s why I’m calling.”
“Oh… ’kay.” There’s rustling and the sound of keys jangling as she enters her loft. “I’m all ears. What’s going on?”
Kira has only been in our lives for about a year—hell, we didn’t know we had a sister until shortly before that—and yet she’s become an integral part of our family. The best part, if you ask me.
“Fuck… I just…” I stumble, at a loss for how to explain myself. “I don’t know how to be married. What am I supposed to do?”
“I’m sorry?” A stifled laugh on the other end of the line. “You mean like, how to treat her?”
I close my eyes and pinch the bridge of my nose. I sound like such a loser. “She’s bored and lonely and told me as much. I’m working all the time, cause that’s what I do. She’s not like other mafia wives—she doesn’t want to shop and go to the gym all day. She wants to work, and I don’t know… be useful somehow.” What I don’t mention is how shitty I’ve treated her. Purposely.
There’s silence on the other end of the line before she asks, “So you didn’t even take time off for a honeymoon?”
“It’s an arranged marriage, and I’m busy with the casino.” And she hates me. But there’s no point in sharing that.
“Right. Well, first things first, you gotta make some time for her. Take her out for dinner. Nowhere fancy or too stuffy. Somewhere down-to-earth where you can both relax and get to know each other as people. Bianca does not strike me as a cartel princess, so don’t treat her like one.”
I scratch my chin. “I can do dinner. Anything else?”
Kira huffs out a laugh. “Start with dinner and not working all the damn time. She’ll tell you what to do next.”
I grin to myself. Yeah, she probably will. Bianca is no shrinking violet. “Can you organize a girls’ night out for her? I think it would help if she had some friends.”
“Already on it. We just need to settle on a date, then we’ll whisk her away for a crazy night on the town.”
“What!? I meant a quiet dinner, maybe a lounge or something… somewhere that we own. No crazy night!”
There’s a loud cackle on the other end of the line before she hangs up.
Shit. I have a feeling I just opened a big box of worms.
CHAPTERTWELVE
BIANCA
“What kind of breed is that?”I point towards the boisterous black puppy running circles around my feet on the lawn.
“That’s a black Lab, ma’am. He’s a month old.”
“So cute,” I exclaim. “What’s the temperament of this breed? High-energy?” I ask the breeder hopefully.
“They do require quite a bit of activity, but they are highly trainable and make for wonderful companions,” she assures me with a smile. “Labs are very gentle.”