Page 2 of Killer Love

Our driver stops the car and I look outside the window. I instantly blink with delight, amazed by the colors surrounding me. In Russia, you see white, you see black, and — as a member of the Lutrova crime family — various shades of red, but you rarely ever see colors like these. The grass is bright green and the sky is a vivid blue. Flowers line the driveway in pinks and purples and oranges. I smile, wanting so badly to touch them but then I remember my mother’s words of warning to keep my hands in my pockets.

The front door opens as we step out of the car and the Zappia family lines up in front of us; father, mother, and the three boys.

“Nikolai!” the man greets my father, throwing up his hand in welcome.

“Antony,” my father says, stepping closer to take his hug. I flinch as the man kisses my father’s cheek. My mother pinches my ear and I stand up straight. “Thank you for welcoming us to your home.”

“I believe it’s long overdue,” Antony says. “The foolish pride of our fathers impeded much progress between our families…”

“I could not have said it better myself.” My father shifts on his heel and sighs at the woman’s face. “And this must be the beautiful Beatrix.”

She lowers her head and says nothing.

Antony waves a finger. “Careful now, Nikolai. A Zappia woman may not engage in conversation with a man who is not her family.”

My father steps back. “My sincerest apologies, Antony.”

Antony grins and waves a hand. “It’s all right. You had no idea. Our traditions run deep, but they are not unforgiving… to an extent.”

My mother steps forward. “I don’t suppose there’s a rule against her talking to me because I must know more about this wonderful landscape. I’d guess she’d be the one to talk to about that, yes?”

Antony blinks twice. Obviously, our family doesn’t have rules against talkative women, and I can’t imagine my mother being okay with being told who she can or can’t speak to. “Of course not, Madam Lutrova. I’m sure Beatrix would be happy to give you a tour of the grounds.”

My father clears his throat at my mother. “Antony, my wife, Nina.”

My mother shakes Antony’s hand and her quick, strong jerk nearly knocks him off his feet. I struggle to hold in my laugh as Yuri nudges my ribs.

I look at the Zappia boys and my smile drops. Each one of them glares at my mother with disgust and my hands roll into fists in my pockets.

Beatrix silently leads my mother inside, but I hear her familiar voice from the other side of the door, purposefully loud and confident.

Antony gestures to his sons. “And these are my boys: Lorenzo, Giovani, and Martino.”

I stare at them, each one trying desperately to emulate their father’s stiff posture. Italian features stand out on their faces. Thick, brown hair, even browner eyes, and that hard upper lip. Lorenzo, the oldest, looks to be about twelve, the same age as my brother. Giovani is my age, maybe a little younger than nine. And Marty’s small, possibly about five.

My father beams at them and fires off a few compliments about how strong they look but I can tell what he’s really thinking because I’m thinking the same thing.

What a bunch of wimps.

He turns to us, still grinning. “And these are my sons: Yuri and Luka.”

Antony regards us with the same respect he gives my father but if I knew him better, then I’m sure I’d see that same, disdainful twinkle in his eyes. The feud between the Zappias and the Lutrovas goes back generations and ingrained beliefs aren’t going to go away after a few handshakes.

“Boys, how about you and the Lutrovas run off and play?” Antony says. “Nikolai and I have much to discuss.”

Martino takes off first, happy to move his tiny, impatient legs while the rest of us stare each other down.

Finally, Lorenzo steps forward and leads all of us around the house to the backyard. I look around with wide eyes, once again amazed by my new surroundings. Bushes cover the grounds in rows, spread from end to end within the tall, stone wall that encircles the grounds. It seems to go on forever and my imagination soars with it.

“Let’s play a game, Enzo…”

I look over to find Giovani wringing his hands. He winks at his big brother and Lorenzo smirks.

“Sure, Gio,” he says. “Let’s play hide and seek.”

It’s an obvious setup. Make the dumb Lutrova boys wander around lost while they snatch up the best hiding places. I can’t say I wouldn’t do the same to them back home on our estate.

“Sure.” Yuri plays nice with them. “Who’s It?”

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