Page 13 of Forgotten Vows
Just not the father of my son who I would die trying to keep safe.
5
IVAN
All through the flight and then once we landed in Italy, Emil pulled more answers out of me. Then when we checked in at the hotel, we talked some more.
It wasn’t a basic matter of explaining the hell of realizing that the woman I loved was someone forbidden from me. Discussing Mafia Family politics was a conversation that could take hours. Days. It wasn’t a straightforward topic. And it was no simple concept of how to handle losing Raisa.
Late into the night, we drank and talked, then drank and talked some more. Alcohol wouldn’t solve anything, but with my cousin’s company, it didn’t seem like a pathetic way to spend the night.
Once I finally went to bed, I was ready to admit it was cathartic to talk to Emil about why it was such a problem for me to have been with Raisa Petrov. He had no answers, but he did listen to me. And that helped. He also didn’t have any suggestions for what else to do, equally aware of how getting involved with the daughter of a strict, Old-Guard Mafia man like Konstantin Petrov spelled trouble.
The morning after, though, I woke up in a shitty and sour mood all over again.
I sat up, groaning and rubbing my head from the ache of a budding hangover. A pounding rhythm bothered me at my temples. My mouth was dry. I hadn’t had that much to drink in a long time, and I regretted it now. I also regretted opening my mouth at all.
More flashbacks of staying up and talking came to me, and I hated that I’d been so open and vulnerable to discuss it at all. Keeping to myself had seemed like the wisest course of action. Now, Emil was aware of all that had been bothering me.
As I got up to shower and got dressed, I dreaded the chance that he might pester me for more information. He’d never been in love before to realize how this was like picking a still-healing scab off a wound.
But he wasn’t as inquisitive when I found him on the balcony off the lounge of our penthouse suite.
Leaning against the railing and scowling as he nursed a coffee, he looked like he was hating how hungover he was as well.
“Haven’t had that much booze in a long time,” he muttered darkly when I joined him.
I smirked, not wanting to risk any more of an expression than that. “Me too.”
“I guess it was warranted, though.” He turned, resting his elbows back on the railing with the morning sunshine behind him. Facing me, he raised one brow. “Of all families to have found a woman from, it had to be the Petrovs.”
I shrugged. “I didn’t know. When we met at a bar, it was just us. Two ‘strangers’ traveling and crossing paths. Then we agreed not to share many details that first night.”
“Because she was just going to be a vacation fuck? A fling?”
I shook my head. “No.” From the beginning, I knew she was different. Special. Ihadplanned to spend a night with her and move on because of who I was. But we clicked. And we stuck. That one night of fun had turned into four months of loving each other. A deep commitment I bet neither of us expected. “But when she told me who she was, I tried to just ignore it and let us have the time that we’d found.”
“That was a hell of a risk.” He drank his coffee. “To willingly be withhisdaughter.”
“It was. But she was just as motivated not to announce it to the world.” We were partners in keeping our relationship on the down low. Even when Emil partied with us, we were careful not to let him know who she was.
“That’s gotta be right about the time when Konstantin fell out of favor with Luka, too.”
I nodded, hating that he was correct. Of all times for Konstantin Petrov to challenge Luka Dubinin about Mafia business, it had to be then. Luka never cared for the Petrov outfit after that. Even though we were affiliated loosely—not designated rivals—Konstantin led a sizable faction of loyalists. They represented the potential problem of infighting, and that wasn’t something Luka would’ve shown much patience for.
“You haven’t heard from her or seen her since you left her?” he asked.
I shook my head, in misery all over again for that fact.
“Then what if…” He sighed and rubbed his jaw. “Then what if Konstantin found out about the affair? What if he had Raisa killed because of it?” He furrowed his brow, watching me seriously. “I don’t think Luka would’ve ordered it…”
“No.” I tensed up and cleared my throat. Luka wouldn’t have ordered my lover to be killed because of who her father was. He wouldn’t have given me approval to stay with her for the sake of politics, either. “She’s alive.”
“You know that she’s alive?” he asked, dubious.
“Yes.” I hadn’t heard of her in all these years. And I hadn’t seen her once. But I knew that at least in the short term after our break, she had lived.
She was theonlyone who’d lived.
