Page 37 of Born into Sin

She’s not mine, I remind myself, but they’re just words, and every part of my body knows that. There’s a truth that goes deeper than words and thoughts and forced actions, and that truth is screaming at me right now that Natalya Melnikov is most definitely mine.

Lev would be so fucking thrilled to know that.

I shake my head, burying the truth I’m not ready to face down deep before I walk into the kitchen. Lucia is busy preparing supper, but as soon as she sees me, she drops the wooden spoon she’s using to stir the pasta sauce with and rushes over to me. Lucia started working for my family when she was twenty and I was just a baby. She’s always been like a second mother to me, and I’m not at all surprised to see the concern in her eyes. Her heart has always been too big to work for a family like this, and I know she only stayed because of her love for my sister and me. Isabella’s death nearly killed her. She felt it just as strongly as the rest of us, and when I’d told her she could retire, that she’d always be taken care of financially, the hurt on her face had ensured I’ll never ask again. She’s family, and she’ll be here until the day she dies.

“How is she?”

“She’s fine, Lucia, barely a scratch on her. She’s soaking in the tub now. I’m going to make sure she eats and then force her to get a good night of sleep.”

Lucia nods like she thinks my plan is a good one and goes back to stirring. “I’ll make you a tray of food to bring up. She needs her strength.”

I can already imagine the huge helping of food Natalya’s about to get, and I can’t help but smile. Lucia shows her love through food, and my little Russian is about to get a huge dose of it. I ignore the way my mind immediately switched to the possessive my, and instead pat Lucia’s shoulder on my way out.

“Thank you, Lucia. I’ll be back to get it in a minute. I want to talk to Dr. Bianchi before Natalya is finished with her bath.”

“Tell him supper’s almost ready.”

I smile back at her, because we both know she’s never late on having supper ready and that the doctor never misses a meal. Dr. Bianchi came to my father before I was born, desperate and willing to do anything to get revenge on the man who’d killed his wife in a hit-and-run. My father delivered the man to him, not caring that it was the son of another powerful mafia don, and Dr. Bianchi got his revenge and pledged his life to the Alessi family. He never got over the death of his wife, but I know he and Lucia have had a thing going on for well over a decade. I know everything that happens under my roof, but I pretend I don’t see it because if they wanted me to know, they’d tell me themselves. He’s nearing eighty, and she’s in her late sixties, and both of them immediately shut me down anytime I mention retirement.

Heading downstairs, I peek into the operating room I had built for him that rivals the best hospital in the city. It’s saved more of my men’s lives than I can remember, but it’s currently empty and dark. Knowing he has to be around here somewhere, I keep walking to his private area of the house. Having a doctor nearby has proven to be one of the best decisions my father ever made, and when I see Dr. Bianchi sitting in a chair by the window, book in hand and reading glasses on, a sadness hits me that I wasn’t expecting. I let very few people into my personal life, and I’ve already lost so many of them. I’m not looking forward to losing the few I have left.

As soon as he sees me, he puts the book down, concern written all over his face. “Is something wrong?”

I raise a hand for him to remain sitting when he starts to get up. “Everything’s fine. I just need some antibiotic cream and a few bandages.”

His eyes run over me, already fully in doctor mode. “Did you get hurt?”

I give him a pointed look because he knows me better than to think I’d come running to him for a band-aid, but his concern for me overrides his common sense sometimes.

“Natalya Melnikov was attacked not long ago. Her bodyguard took three bullets but still managed to send her to me. They were at a restaurant a few miles away. She’s unharmed, but her knees and the soles of her feet were rubbed raw in a few places, and I want to make sure it heals like it should.”

Whatever he hears in my voice has the corner of his mouth lifting up.

“What?” I ask, feeling defensive and mentally replaying everything I just said, trying to find what would cause the amused look in his eyes.

“I didn’t say anything.” He stands up and takes off his reading glasses, slipping them into his shirt pocket before motioning for me to follow him. He may be close to eighty, but he’s still pretty damn spry, and there’s no denying his skill as a doctor hasn’t wavered at all. We both know he’s not getting any younger, though, and he finally agreed that we need to bring someone else onboard to help him out and eventually take over. He’s being very picky about it, but I’m confident he’ll choose the perfect person when the time is right.

I follow as he goes into a storage room and grabs several bandages and a tube of cream. Holding them out to me, he asks, “Do you want me to take a look?”

“No, it’s okay. They’re minor scratches. I’m being overly cautious.”

Again he gives me an amused look.

“I don’t know why you’re looking at me like that.”

He huffs out a small laugh. “I’ve known you a long time, Dominic.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you don’t usually come down here for antibiotic cream because someone has a tiny boo-boo.”

“She’s Lev’s daughter,” I tell him, ignoring the boo-boo comment. “I gave him my word that she’d be safe and looked after.”

He gives another laugh because obviously his old age has made him reckless as well as fearless. When he sees the look I’m giving him, he smiles even bigger and says, “Well, this should be interesting.”

“I don’t know what in the hell you’re talking about.” I take the medicine and bandages and turn to leave. “Thanks, Dr. Bianchi.”

“I’ve told you a million times you can call me Carlos,” he says from behind me.

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