Page 4 of Fortress of the Heart

A five-foot-eight, raven-haired, Russian Mafia Princess problem.

Katiya Petrov.

She’s Aleksi Petrov’s niece.

Aleksi is head of the Russian Bratva, and an archenemy of my family.

She’s a mad woman. Just the very thought of her and what she did tonight is enough to make me understand that I genuinely know nothing about women. Well, at least far less than I thought I did.

I run a hand over my face.

She’s a complication, one that I had no idea was mine to solve.

I don’t want to be stuck with her, but I can’t argue with Angelo. He might be my older brother, but he’s still very much in charge of this family and the head of operations. As much as I want to tell him to fuck off and babysit this chick himself, I keep my mouth shut, knowing I’ll repay him the favor when the time comes.

Tonight’s been rough.

We just witnessed a death in the family. Angelo’s lover, Rayne, is not the woman I thought she was and it turned out she was being bribed for weeks, she was sent to end him but we all know she was never going to really kill Angelo. Her sister Mia was kidnapped and held for ransom and in the midst of it, Katiya Petrov was caught in the crossfire.

Now she’s here. Under this roof with my mother and my little sister until we know what to do with her.

This isn’t good.

While this isn’t my home, having one of the Petrov’s on Medici soil feels wrong, like it taints it somehow.

If there is one thing I despise, it’s the fucking Petrov family.

There’s not a decent one among them. That old saying about tarring them all with the same brush is quite fitting when it comes to the Russians.

Add to that, I’ve been a dick to Rayne. It didn't matter that I only had my brother's best interests at heart, I couldn’t see the truth for all the rage I felt. Any kind of betrayal to anyone in my family is a direct hit on me.

I guess you could say I have an issue trusting women.

The last one I cared for nearly cut my balls off and ripped my heart out at the same time.

That’s when I swore I’d never let a woman possess me again.

When I love, I love hard. Deep. I become one with them. I want to please them no end. That’s my downfall.

Apparently, I have the look of my father. When he was alive, he was the most powerful man in all of Boston until he was gunned down when I was a child and Uncle Mario became the Don. He too was handsome, and women literally threw themselves at his feet. Lucky for his balls, my Ma was the only woman he had eyes for.

He rescued her from a would-be prostitution ring when she was sold off by her Sicilian family and shipped to America. It was a true love story that was cut short.

There’s been so much fucking bloodshed, and now this. At some point, it has to end. But that won’t be anytime soon.

Our enemies swooped in after Angelo faked his own death, believing he could catch our enemies in droves, and the vultures were unrelenting. More heads will roll in time.

A war is brewing.

I knew it was a bad omen; to fake one's death in Sicilian culture is the ultimate sin, and while I’m not as religious as my mother thinks I am, it still gives me the heebie-jeebies just thinking about it.

Sitting at the dining table, waiting for Angelo to come downstairs, I clutch my knife and fork with vigor as my Ma interrupts my thoughts.

“You need to take that girl some food,” she says in Italian.

I look up to her, shaking myself out of my reverie as I answer, “Who?”

She tuts, shaking her head. She is still the strongest woman I’ve ever met. Ma will let you know when she’s displeased. While she’s kind and loving, she also has a whip-lash tongue and isn’t afraid to use it on any of her children

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