Page 100 of Claimed By Desire

“I think about that constantly.”

“The fucked up part is, I’d still be right where I am, even without Step.”

I open my mouth to argue, but he’s probably right. Nat would still have ran out on Adriano. I still would have married her. And Lev would still be the one forced to take an Italian wife.

“You’re here to do something stupid,” I say simply. It’s not a question, and he doesn’t bother denying it.

“You remember the night at the docks. Adriano held that gun to my head, and he was going to pull the trigger. He didn’t even seem sorry about it.”

“So, what, this is revenge?”

“I don’t know what it is.”

“You realize there has to be at least a dozen of his men keeping an eye on you.”

“Probably.” He sips his whisky. “That only makes it more fun.”

“Lev—“

“And now you’re here.” He looks at me, and this time, his smile isn’t charming or light. There’s only a darkness in his eyes, but also an edge of humor too. “We can kill a lot of Italians together,brother.”

I accept my beer from the bartender and take a long pull. I can’t tell if he’s kidding or not.

“Getting into a glorious fire fight and dying in battle would’ve been tempting once, but my life’s different now. You know what I was doing before I came here?”

“Shacking up with my little sister, I assume. Watching Great British Baking or whatever.”

“We were painting a mural in the nursery.”

Lev softens ever so slightly. “You’re going to be a good father.”

“I’m thinking we’ll give them a Russian name. Boy or girl, doesn’t really matter to me. And we’re going to need a god father, right?”

“Yeah, you will.”

“I’m thinking it should be you. I mean, it makes sense. You’re the uncle. You’re the best family this kid’s got aside from me and Nat.”

He doesn’t look at me. “It’s a nice offer.”

“You’re going to be a great uncle,” I say quickly before he can keep going. “You’re going to spoil this kid. Lots of presents on their birthday. Maybe you’ll come babysit a little, you know, let them stay up late and eat too much ice cream and watch too much TV or some shit like that. Teach them to dribble a soccer ball.”

“I’m shit at soccer. I can throw a football.”

“You’re shit at football too.”

He grunts and finishes his drink. “I know what you’re doing.”

“I’m not being subtle about it.”

“I didn’t come here to fucking kill myself, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

“No, but I think you came here to get killed, and I can’t handle losing you too. Natalya can’t either.”

“I’m here for revenge.”

“No, Lev, you’re here to escape all the shit you hate back home.”

He’s quiet for a while. I let that settle for a bit, because if anyone knows about feeling that way, it’s definitely me. My parents are a distant memory at this point, but I can still remember the way it felt growing up in their house. The neglect, the abuse. Watching them kill themselves with their substances and thinking that was normal. Wondering if I’d be the same way when I got older and figuring that yeah, probably, I would.

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