War (Bratva and Mafia Chronicles Book 1)

by Melissa Silvey

  I move groggily to the bathroom, and when I look in the mirror I smile.

  A heart drawn in red lipstick, my favorite of course, greets me. Inside the heart is an M, and surrounding it is a C. I should clean it off, but I don’t. I leave it.

  And I think about it while I’m in the shower, and while I’m on the bus, and while I’m getting bagels and cream cheese. And I’m still smiling when I enter my parents’ house.

  My mom must have been hovering at the door, waiting for my arrival. But when she sees me, she stops suddenly. “You look happy. Have you and Frankie finally…”

  My eyes go wide when she suggests it. Is it that obvious that I’ve lost my virginity? My mom could tell immediately. “No, Mom, God no. How could you even suggest that?”

  “Because you just look so satisfied. Are you sure you didn’t get some?” She’s grinning from ear to ear as she says it. It makes me feel literally dirty. Because my mom is saying it? Because she’s right? And because she’s so damn wrong.

  “You know I don’t feel that way about Frankie. You know I’m only marrying…”

  I stop, because she suddenly looks horrified. Oh God, she doesn’t know.

  My mouth is firmly closed now. I look away from her, turning my head almost violently. That’s when she grabs my shoulders, and turns me to face her. Her gray eyes are wide with the realization of the truth. “You tell me right now, Chi. You tell me.” She shakes me one good time when I refuse to talk. “What did your father do this time?”

  I shake my head, and fight the tear that’s threatening to fall. “I brought bagels. Has Nicky eaten?”

  “You stop right now, Chi. Stop being the withdrawn one, and tell me.” I’ve never realized how much Guilia looks like her, until right this moment. She must have been incredible when she was younger. My father is lucky, because he’s a total schmuck compared to her. I wonder if her father forced her to marry him. “Chiara you tell your mother the truth, right now.”

  The tears are coming, and they’re not going to stop. Damn it, why does she have to pick now to worry about me? I’ve always been the one she depended on, the one she practically took for granted. Yea, all those nights I was at home during high school, I was helping take care of the younger kids. Angelina was out raising hell, and I was stuck at home. I don’t regret it, not now that I have Misha.

  She grabs me and hugs me, and the tears flow along with the truth. “He’s threatening to marry Guilia off to Dante if I don’t marry Frankie.”

  “What!” she screams right in my ear. I cringe, and slip out of her arms. “That bastard! He swore he wasn’t involved. I could see that you didn’t care for Frankie!”

  “Mom.” I try to stop her, because I hear Guilia walking down the stairs. “Mom, calm down.”

  “No, Chi. I will not calm down. I’ll cut that bastard’s dick off if he even thinks of marrying her off to Dante.”

  “Dante?” Guilia pipes up from the kitchen.

  I hold my breath. “Mom, shhhh…” I murmur.

  She stops, and turns toward the doorway. “It’s okay, Guilia. Do you want something sweetheart?”

  Guilia’s grin is brighter and wider than I’ve ever seen when she walks toward us. How can a woman look that sweet? Her eyes are gray like our mom’s, and her hair is a mass of black curls against her pale skin. “Dante kissed me at Angie’s wedding,” she says happily, in a sing song voice. “And he’s kissed me since then, too.”

  Mom and I stare at each other silently. I have no fucking idea what to say to her, or to my precious sister.

  “Dante said he’s going to marry me, and we’re going to have a baby.”

  “Oh, hell no. There’s no fucking way you’re marrying Dante, Guilia,” I spit out angrily. I’m still looking at Mom.

  She nods, but her voice is firm when she says, “Language, Chi. We don’t say those words, do we Guilia?”

  She shakes her head, her natural curls bouncing. “Dante’s cute, Chi. Cuter than Frankie. He said he likes me.” She smiles again, then skips off toward the kitchen.

  “Where are your keys, Ma? I’m going to kill him,” I insist.

  She digs them out of her jacket pocket and hands them to me. “Who first?”

  “I’ll start with Frankie, I think. I can always murder Dad in his sleep.”

  Her eyes twinkle as she kisses my cheek. “That’s my girl,” she says, before she opens the door for me.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Misha

  I’m nervous as hell as I walk into the hotel, even more so than when I walked in with the most off limits girl on the planet. I don’t know if he’s still here. I don’t know if he’ll help me. All I know is that I need him, and I’ll do whatever he asks.

  I approach the desk and give the girl behind it my flirtiest grin and say, “Hi there, honey.”

  She looks up from the computer monitor, and her eyes grow wide. I’d say I was the best looking guy she’s seen in a while, if I didn’t know Dimitri Federov was staying at the hotel. Or maybe he’s gone and she didn’t see him.

  “I’d like Mr. Federov’s room number, please.” I give her a little wink. I don’t even know what she looks like, and she’s standing right in front of me. I’m looking at her, and all I see is blue gray eyes, tons and tons of glossy brown hair, and full pouty lips.

  “I really shouldn’t,” she mutters, but there’s a giggle in her voice.

  “I won’t tell, I promise.” My face is going to crack if I have to keep this fake smile pinned to it much longer.

  “Federov, he’s in the penthouse,” she says.

  “Thank you.” I wink again.

  “Can I get your…”

  I’m already walking away, toward the elevator. It’s the elevator where I kissed Chi. I should stop by the room where we made love. I should buy the room, and keep it as a shrine to her. To us. To love.

  The elevator dings, and the automated voice says, “Penthouse suite.”

  And when the doors part, I see two men with guns standing in the hallway, and two more men standing by the door. They’re obviously Russian. One of them even speaks to me in the language.

  I just shake my head. I kinda regret not learning, especially when I see the arrogant look flash in the other guy’s eyes. I walk toward him, and stand at least eight inches taller than him. Now try to act like you’re better than me, motherfucker.

  I tip my head down to look into his eyes, and introduce myself. “I’m Mikhail Ivanovich. You might have heard of me.”

  The confident expression completely evaporates. That’s when I see the flicker of fear in his eyes. He quickly tries to cover it, but I already know he’s almost ready to piss himself. Just the mention of my name does that, even to gangsters.

  “I’d like to see Dimitri. Can one of you let him know I’m here?” I don’t raise my voice. I don’t change my tone. I don’t have to.

  “Yes, right away Mr. Ivanovich,” the guy I’m currently dwarfing answers, before he heads toward the door and knocks. Another guy with a gun answers, and they chat for several seconds in Russian.

  The door closes, and the guy stands just outside it and waits. I’m assuming he doesn’t want to join me again. That doesn’t matter, I know it’s because he’s intimidated.

  I don’t wait long before Dimitri himself opens the door and calls out to me, “Come in, Misha. Don’t stand out here scaring my men.” I chuckle and walk toward him, before I grab him in a hug. He slaps my shoulder and complains, “You make me feel like a kid. Stop growing for fuck’s sake!”

  “I stopped growing ten years ago,” I reply. And I don’t know why he even mentions it, he’s only three inches shorter than me.

  “Did I see you here on Thursday? Weren’t you with a girl? A hot girl, if I’m remembering correctly.” He smiles at me and motions for me to sit on a leather couch. I don’t remember room fourteen twenty being this nice. I guess that’s the difference between being the crown prince and the family flunky.

  “Yea, that’s
why I’m here. The girl.” One of his men brings me a glass of vodka, and I take it thankfully. I need this, maybe more than I’ve ever needed a drink before. I slam it back, and breathe in through my clenched teeth. “Smooth.”

  Dimitri examines me bemused, and I do the same to him. He wears tailored three piece suits, without the jacket of course because he’s in a hotel room. He wears expensive Italian shoes, and gets two hundred dollar haircuts. I mean sure I could probably look like that if I wanted to spend that kind of money.

  “Why don’t you go to Ivan or Anatoli?” It’s a fair question, but not one I wanted to hear. Ivan is married to Dimitri’s sister, as a way to unite the families. It’s worked out well, mostly, but there are still minor issues of two families doing this kind of business so close to each other.

  “I need to ask a favor of you, Dimitri, as the heir to the head of the Federov family. And I would be in your debt.”

  He responds wordlessly to my offer, his blue eyes glitter and a smile creeps over his face. “This sounds very serious, Misha. Tell me your problem.” He leans forward, his forearms resting on his knees and his big hands pressing together. I think Ivan said that Dimitri was an impressive hockey player in college. He looks like he could shred offenses with one punch.

  I take a deep breath, look him right in his eyes, and tell him, “I need you to kidnap Guilia Rossi.”

  He stares at me for several moments, then breaks out in laughter. My expression doesn’t change. He notices, and shakes his head. “I’m not kidnapping Guilia Rossi. She’s Nicola’s daughter, right? Isn’t she marrying Frankie Moretti?”

  “No,” I start, but he interrupts me.

  “No, wait, his fiancée has a really strange name, even for the Italians. It’s something like Cliana, or Clarita…”

  “Chiara,” I provide.

  “Chiara,” he repeats. He blinks several times, and then nods. “You’re fucking Chiara Rossi?”

  Why does everyone have to make a new relationship sound tawdry? “We’re not fucking, we’re…” What are we? She’s insisting on marrying my enemy. I’m insisting on having her at all costs.

  “In love?” Dimitri counters, obviously doubtful.

  “I would do anything, promise anything, kill anyone, for the chance to find out if she could even possibly love someone like me.” I admit. “I’m not ashamed. Chiara is worth it.”

  He laughs at that. Dimitri is older, more experienced in these things, and definitely more jaded. His own wife left him soon after her father died. Apparently their marriage was arranged as well. Apparently that’s a thing in the mob. First sons marry women they don’t love, and last sons are ignored, or worse.

  “Is this what happens when a person falls in love? Is this how they act?” He scoffs, and shakes his head. “You’re acting even more reckless than usual, and that’s not a good thing. With the way the cops are cracking down on the business, no one wants a war right now. Calm down, take a few days to reexamine, and then we’ll discuss how you can get your girl.”

  He’s right. I am being even more impulsive than normal. Maybe I should leave her alone for a few days. Maybe I’ll be able to think straight. But I doubt it.

  “How long are you staying in the city?” I ask, as I stand to leave.

  “I’ll be here until Tuesday. Maybe I’ll see you Monday, and we can chat about your options?” he offers, and extends his hand to me.

  I take it and shake it, while smiling at him. “Maybe you’re right. I’ll take your advice and leave her alone until then.”

  He pats my shoulder, then leads me to the door. “I’ll see you Monday.”

  As I leave, I give the asshole the side eye. He avoids my eyes. Probably best. I’m in the mood for a fight. Anyone will do.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chiara

  I honestly don’t know where Frankie will be, or what he’ll be doing on a Saturday afternoon. We don’t have that kind of relationship. Doesn’t he wonder why I don’t call him, or text him? Does he care that I absolutely don’t want to know where he is or what he’s doing?

  Maybe what he said about wanting me since I was a teenager was just a lie. Mobsters lie, and cheat, and steal. My father has lied to my mom and cheated on her countless times. I should be prepared for it. I should be ready for more of the same from my husband.

  I decide to begin looking for him at his penthouse apartment, in the building he owns. When I arrive, I find two of his men reading the paper in the lobby, I assume he’s here. And before they can stop me, I’m on the elevator and touching the button for the top floor.

  Well, if he’s with his mistress, I’m sure his men will warn him. I arrive at his floor, and find two more men standing outside his door. Is this all really necessary? Is this what I have to look forward to?

  One of them opens the door before I can knock. They’ve been warned I was on the way. Another man, Frankie’s assistant, nods when I enter. No one looks flustered, like they were just escorting hookers out the back door.

  “Mr. Moretti is in his bedroom, Miss,” he informs me. As if I know where his bedroom is. When I give him a look, he nods and says, “This way.”

  I follow him, looking around at Frankie’s apartment with fresh eyes. It is impeccably decorated, expensively adorned. He has good taste in everything, from rings to… Fuck, my ring. In my anger and haste I’d forgotten about it. “I need to use the restroom, if you don’t mind?” I murmur.

  “This way,” he says, and points toward a door.

  Inside, I dig the ring out of its pocket in my purse. I sigh with relief when it’s on my finger, flush the commode, then turn on the water. I don’t want him thinking I’m unhygienic.

  I nod, and give him a wry smile. “This way,” he says again. Broken record much? He stops at a door, gives me a half bow from his shoulders, and walks off.

  I knock, and Frankie immediately opens the door. There’s a man in the room with him, which would pique my interest if he wasn’t holding a fabric pencil, with a pin cushion on his wrist.

  “You caught me,” Frankie says with a warm smile. “I’m having a new tuxedo tailored for the wedding.” I notice he’s wearing a fancy black jacket and black trousers, and no shirt. He looks incredible without a shirt, his washboard abs are… Not Misha, I remind myself.

  “Could I have a moment of your time, alone?” I ask pointedly, while staring at the other man.

  “Of course,” he says, and nods to his tailor. Then, he takes the jacket off and hands it to the man. Damn, Frankie shirtless is a marvelous thing. His chest must be as big around as I am tall. He catches me looking, and grins.

  I have to remember why I’m here.

  “Did you know your brother kissed my sister!” I yell, accusingly.

  He chuckles at my distress. “Well, they’re married, so…” He shrugs. His shoulders are a thing of beauty. He should really put on a shirt.

  “Not that brother, and not that sister,” I spit out.

  He looks confused for several moments. Then clarity comes. “Dante kissed Guilia?” he asks.

  “Yes, Dante kissed Guilia at Matteo and Angelina’s wedding, and a few times since then apparently,” I inform him.

  He stares at me thoughtfully for several moments. “What do you want me to do about it, Chi? They’re both adults.”

  I’ve never wanted to hit someone as much as I much to hit my fiancé right now. “Guilia is not an adult, Frankie. She’s a child in a woman’s body.”

  His dark chocolate eyes seem almost playful. “Maybe you coddle her, Chi. Have you thought of that? She’s twenty-one, and she’s very pretty.”

  My hand is faster than my brain. I pull back, and release, but he catches my wrist before impact. It stuns me that his reaction was that fast. He’s stunned that I actually tried to strike him.

  “There’s something going on here that I don’t understand, Chi. Dante came to me and told me he cares for Guilia. I gave him my blessing.” I try to pull my hand away from his, to attempt another slap
, but he holds it firm. And then he says what I’ve been dreading. “Your father didn’t seem to have a problem with it either.”

  I stare into his eyes for several moments. Then I tear my hand away from his, turn away from him, and scream as loud as I can. Somehow I knew, in the back of my mind, my father would betray his promise to me. Did he think I’d marry Frankie, and what, fall in love with him? Get pregnant? Then I’d be trapped and unable to do anything when Dante proposed and my father said yes?

  I feel his big hands on my shoulders, and I pull away again. “Don’t you touch me, you asshole.”

  “I don’t understand your reaction here, Chi. He won’t hurt her.” He really doesn’t seem to understand why I’m angry, and that makes me even more pissed off.

  “He’d hurt her by marrying her. Don’t you understand that?” I hear my voice, and I’m almost screeching. My emotions are taking over. I don’t think I’ve ever allowed anyone to see just exactly how protective I am of my little sister, and how far I’d go to keep her safe. No one except Misha, and he forced me to admit it.

  “Dante gave his word he’d treat her well, and you know if he doesn’t I’ll beat the shit out of him.”

  I spin around, and I want to hit him again. My eyes must be on fire, because he actually takes a step back. “And my father gave his word that if I married you, he wouldn’t allow Dante to marry Guilia. So I see how much a man’s word is worth.”

  “What?” He looks even more stunned than when I tried to hit him.

  I cross my arms in front of my chest, and bite my bottom lip. I’ve said too much. I went way too far this time. My emotions are out of control, and I don’t know how to reel them back in.

  He takes a step toward me, and suddenly his size and his muscles are intimidating. “What did you say, Chiara?”

  I turn away from him again, but he grabs me and forces me to face him. I try to pull away, but he holds me firmly.

  “You’re saying you don’t want to marry me? That you’re doing this…” He scoffs, and glances away as if he can’t believe it. “You’re marrying me because of a promise from your father?”