Page 3 of Heritage of Fire

“Antonio continues to burn us even from the grave,” my father says, setting his phone down. “In deep with some senator who’s also in with the Bratva. Well, at leastwasin with the Bratva. I’m sure Luka Morozov would love to get his hands on the senator after his and Antonio’s stunt.” He chuckles to himself.

A shiver races down my spine. Luka Morozov is a name you never forget.

One of the youngest pakhans in Bratva history, he’s a legend within our organization—even despite our feuding history. His name alone makes the strongest Cosa Nostra soldier’s knees shake. The fact that Uncle Antonio tried to take down the pakhan and kidnap his fiancée—well, like I said, the best thing to happen for our family was his murder.

“Be careful when you meet with him, Sal. I don’t want to have to plan a funeral for you as well.” My dad levels a glare at her, and my mother's eyes widen—like she got caught saying something she shouldn’t have. I meet my father’s gaze, and it’s like he’s daring me to ask.

Yeah, I’m going to ask.

“You’re meeting with Luka Morozov?”

“Yes. And that will be all on the Morozov family at this table for today,” he says, digging back into his lunch.

My mother pours herself a generous second glass of wine as a myriad of thoughts carousel on an endless loop in my mind. This meeting must be important. What could my father possibly have to speak with the Bratva about?

Giulia sets a plate of tiramisu in front of me, and within its distinct layers of utter perfection, I can smell the sweet scent of coffee-soaked cakes and mascarpone. I snatch the accompanying dessert fork.

Out of habit, I glance up and find my mother’s eyes on me. A thickness clogs my throat and I shrink back, pushing the plate away.

I’m full anyway.

I wait the few riveting minutes of silence while my father eats and answers emails on his phone before asking, “May I be excused?”

My sister patiently waits for the answer as well.

My father inclines his head, and a beat passes before I realize that’s all the approval I’m going to get.

Excusing myself, I head to the gardens for the rest of the afternoon. I’ve made big plans to finish my book until I’m recalled back to the table for dinner.

Later, after another dessertless meal, I tuck myself away in my room for the night and open my dresser drawer to count out several chocolate candies. Once I’ve separated them by color and organized them into different repetitive patterns, I eat one and put the rest back.

Instead of savoring it, when the sweet chocolate hits my tongue, guilt knots in my belly. I sigh and shove my drawer shut.

Crawling onto my bed, I face the bolted window. It takes a few adjustments to get comfortable on my lumpy pillow, but once I do, I stare out at the velvet night sky, the perfect backdrop for the incandescent stars and luminous moon. I wish I couldopen the window and experience the stillness of the night, or feel the cool air kiss my skin.

Eventually, I find the Big Dipper. I trace it with my eyes until they grow heavy, as I mumble the same words over and over while I drift to sleep.

I wish for more.

Chapter 2

Nikolai

Luka’s jaw grinds, back teeth grating together so hard it’s audible.

I’m worried he’ll put my comfort above the Bratva. Hewould. He would avoid this alliance so he won’t have to command me to marry. But I’ve been loyal to the Bratva—no,to Luka—since I was a?—

“Absolutely not,” Luka booms toward Salvatore.

His voice interrupts my perusal of the bookshelves that stretch from the hardwood floor to the lofty ceiling of Luka’s office. I don’t miss the small additions. A Russian oil painting of treeless steppes from the home country is propped up on a shelf, and new veterinarian textbooks are slumped on the shelves.

Sunlight streams in through the window wall behind Luka’s desk and bounces off the crystal tumbler glasses over at the bar. I blink, trying to refocus on what Salvatore said a minute ago. Words knock around in my mind—arrangement, alliance, marriage. They’re all up there in a big jumbled mess.

Me?Marriage?Never planned on it in my lifetime.

“Hear me out, Mr. Morozov. I know you’re engaged, and I also know Nikolai is your unmarried second, loyal to the Bratva and the Morozov family.”

Salvatore Buscetta has a set of balls on him, I’ll give him that.

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