Page 40 of Bratva Knight

The elevator plopped us out into a well-lit hallway. Nikolai took my suitcases and led the way until we got to 7c. I pulled out the keys and unlocked the door. Nikolai’s phone rang as we began to make our way inside. He left my suitcases by the door and pulled out his phone, answering it.

“Da? Yes?”

I left him to talk privately and walked further into the apartment. It was everything I expected it to be: charming, classic, elegant. A neutral palette filled with spatterings of black, white and greys. It had a spacious lounge room and a clean-cut kitchen with modern appliances. The bedrooms were at opposite ends of the apartment, which filled me with relief. The last thing I needed was one of those cliche movie moments where the main characters run into each other late at night. I placed my suitcases in front of one of the rooms and turned to face Nikolai as he made his way into the apartment.

“It’s nice. Spacious, like Arturo said.”

“Yes. Very.” He wandered around aimlessly and I couldn’t help but notice the somewhat vacant impression on his face.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” He stopped at the floor-to-ceiling window and stared out at the view.

I admired his long, muscular frame. The streak of sunlight shining on his hard, angular face, the way it made his eyes sparkle.

“Nikolai.” He didn’t look at me, continuing to stare outside like a man utterly consumed by his thoughts. “What is it? Who was on the phone?”

“Aleksandr.”

“Is everything okay?”

“Depends on your definition of the word, I suppose.”

I had a feeling that I knew what was troubling him. “Your father?”

“Mmm.” He moved about the room, lightly touching the furniture with his fingers. “There hasn’t been any luck finding him. Considering how things ended at the meeting with Dominik—”

“You’re worried he’s dead.” Guilt weighed heavy on my heart. Illayana told me how the meeting went. Dominik’s final words. I could see why he was so concerned.

“I’m worried that if he’s not dead yet, he soon will be.” He turned his face away. “The animosity between my uncle and my father is great. I was surprised to hear he hadn’t killed him the moment he got his hands on him, to be honest. After Aleksandr refused to hand over control of the Bratva, I can only imagine what Dominik has done to him—”

“Don’t.” I went to him, the agony on his face making it impossible for me to do nothing. I clasped his hands in my own tightly. The sudden contact shocked him, his eyes snapping to me. “Don’t think about it, Nikolai. Don’t imagine it. It won’t do you any good. I’ll tell you what I told Illayana. Have faith in your father. He’s strong. He won’t go down without a fight. I know it.”

“So do I,” he sighed. “I just feel so…helpless. Like I should be doing more.”

The guilt I felt increased tenfold. “Nikolai, you should go home. Your father needs you. Your family needs you. You shouldn’t be wasting your time here with me.”

“Is that what you think? That I’m just wasting my time?” he shook his head, moving his hands to cradle the sides of my face. “Watching out for you couldneverbe considered a waste of time, Tati. Never. Haven’t you realised by now that there is nowhere on this Earth I wouldn’t follow you? Nothing I wouldn’t do to keep you safe? Nothing I wouldn’t sacrifice? Yes, my father needs me. But there’s nothing I can do there that I can’t do here. If we get even a hint of where he could be, I’ll go.”

“And I will too.” I gripped his wrist tightly, pushing my face deeper into his hand. “Because no matter what’s happened between us, I’ll always be here for you when you need me. Always.”

Chapter Twelve

Tatiana Andreeva

“So,you’vevisitedthreeout of the five cash houses that have been raided by Franco, Mr Bianchi?” I asked the Cosa Nostra soldier sitting across from me as I scrolled through the information Arturo provided on the iPad.

5’11. Thirty-one years old. Child legacy, meaning he came from a long line of men who'd worked for the family: his father, uncle, brother, great-grandfather.

There was nothing alarming about him. No red flags I could see on his file. Apart from his attitude, that is. But that wasn’t surprising, considering all the men I’d interviewed before him were exactly the same. They were all rude, obnoxious and downright dickish.

It was now 7 p.m. and he was the last soldier I had to talk to. I’d gone through the list of men Arturo gave me within a few hours, talking to each one and picking at their story. Based on the evidence in front of me and their responses to my questions, I was inclined to side with Arturo and Illayana. I didn’t believe any of them betrayed the Cosa Nostra. Not actively, anyway.

It hadn’t been a particularly enjoyable time, I’ll admit. Every single one of them weren’t happy to be questioned by an outsider. Awoman. They looked right through me, talked like I wasn’t even there. Some of them even completely ignored me and tried to talk to Nikolai instead, who was standing behind me the whole time like a bodyguard. Or Vincenzo, who was barely paying attention, staring at his phone. It was as if a woman in charge was ludicrous to them.

Had we been home, and I was dealing with Bratva soldiers and not Cosa Nostra ones, we’d be having a much different conversation. One where I let my blade do all the talking.

But as much as I was dying to put these men in their place, I couldn’t. I was a professional, there to do a job and help my best friend. I couldn’t go around seriously injuring or maiming every soldier who spoke disrespectfully to me. Not then and there. The day would come though.

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