Page 13 of The Mafia's Quadruplets

“And risk angering Valerian?” I counter. “Dad, you don’t understand how powerful he is. Jaw messed around with the wrong people and this goes way beyond legal action. Doing a little extra work is the safest option for all of us.”

Mom’s voice is quiet when she speaks. “How long will you have to work for him, exactly?”

I hesitate, trying to do mental math. “I’m... not sure. Until the debt is paid off, but I forgot to ask the amount. I did get him to agree to credit me five hundred bucks per hour of massage time. So, if Jay owes twenty-five-thousand, that’ll take...”

Mom blurts out, “Fifty hours.” She looks at Dad. “That’s not so bad.”

“Unless it’s way more than twenty-five-thousand,” says Dad with a twist of his lips. He stops pacing, turning to face me. “Andwhat exactly does this job entail? Are you sure it’s just massage therapy?”

The implication in his tone makes my cheeks burn. “Yes, Dad. I’m a professional. That’s all it is, and I’ll find out the exact debt. I’m an adult, and I know what I’m doing.”

An uncomfortable silence settles over the kitchen. I can see the worry on their faces, and the fear for my safety warring with the desperation to save their life’s work.

Finally, he sighs heavily. “I don’t like this, Claire. Not one bit.”

“I know, but I’m going to do it anyway. Jay can’t pay this off when he’s behind bars, and things could get much worse if we don’t just get this debt out of the way. I need you to trust me.”

She stands, circling the table to wrap me in a tight hug. “We always trust you, sweetheart. We’re just scared. First Jay, now you…”

I lean into her embrace, drawing strength from her warmth. “I’m scared too, but I’m also determined. I’m not going to get into trouble like he did. I’m going to fix this.”

Dad joins our hug, his strong arms encircling both of us. “You shouldn’t have to,” he murmurs.

“I know, but I want to for our family.”

“It’s a good thing Jay is going to be in prison for a while,” he says, tone laced with anger. “I might just about cool off enough to forgive him by the time he’s released.”

I nod my agreement, glad they aren’t going to bail out Jay this time. I don’t want to see my brother suffer, but every time we help him, we’re enabling him.

My parents might forgive him, but I don’t think I’m ready to even consider that until I’m finished paying off his debts.

The sleek blacklimo glides to a stop in front of Valerian’s mansion. I grip my suitcase so hard my hand hurts. The huge house is even more impressive than the building with the penthouse. House isn’t the right word. Mansion, for sure. It’s like a physical manifestation of the power Valerian wields.

Ivan opens the car door. “We’ve arrived, Miss Bennett.”

I step out, and the crisp night air nips at my exposed skin, but it’s not the cold that makes me shiver.

Sergei retrieves the rest of my luggage from the trunk. “This way, please.”

They flank me as we approach the grand entrance. Ornate iron gates swing open silently, revealing a path lined with meticulously manicured topiaries. The scent of roses mingles with something darker, expensive cologne and cigar smoke.

The massive front doors open before we reach them. An older man in a dark suit greets us. “Welcome, Miss Bennett. I’m Anatoly, the butler, and I’ll see to your needs. Mr. Rostova is expecting you.”

I swallow hard, forcing myself to nod. The foyer is a study in opulence—gleaming marble floors, a crystal chandelier that probably costs more than my parents’ house, and artwork that belongs in a museum. It’s beautiful, but the grandeur feels suffocating rather than impressive.

“This way.” The butler leads us deeper into the mansion.

We pass silent staff members, who avert their gazes as we walk by. Their rigid postures and carefully blank expressions concern me. What kind of life do they lead here, under Valerian’s watchful eye?

We enter a spacious study. Floor-to-ceiling built-in bookshelves line the walls, interrupted only by a massive fireplace.

And there he is.

Valerian Rostova stands with his back to us, silhouetted against the fire. He turns slowly, and his gaze locks onto mine. My breath sticks in my throat like a lump of dry bread.

“Claire.” My name on his lips sounds like a caress and a threat all at once. “I trust your journey was comfortable?”

I lift my chin. “It was fine, thank you.”

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