I’ve never thought about meeting my father before.
When Grandma told me who he is and what he does, I thought I was lucky to have never been in his path and decided to keep it that way.
I didn’t even try to learn his name or dig around to find out about him. Partly because the thought of him brought back painful memories of Italy and my parents’ death. Partly because I didn’t want to get caught up in that type of life.
After I learned that Adrian has gotten close to me because of who my father is, it hurt so badly that I wished he’d never had me. I wished that my real father was the kind Paolo Morelli, who took care of me and my mother. I wished I had no relation to Lazlo Luciano.
Now, it’s different.
Now, I’m well aware that he’s possibly my last chance to keep the love of my life alive, to fight for my family and protect it.
Adrian has always been our shield, and I realize now how much I took that for granted. I even forgot what type of horrors await us out there without him.
Now, it’s my turn to save him.
“This is bad,” Yan grumbles as we stand in front of Lazlo’s house in one of Brooklyn’s exclusive sections.
We flew here as soon as we could and it took us thirteen hours I don’t have to spare. I’ve been trying to call Adrian, Kolya, and Fedor, but all I’ve gotten are their voicemails.
Yan attempted to placate me, saying that they were probably in a meeting, but I nearly had a breakdown every time I couldn’t reach them. The only thing that kept me together was Jeremy.
My baby boy is back home with Boris and Ogla, who surprisingly also agreed with my plan.
Yan is the only one who didn’t and has been grumbling at me all the way here, even when he insisted to tag along.
“If you hate this so much, you could’ve let Boris come on your behalf.”
He scoffs. “No way in hell. I told Boss I would protect you with my life and that’s what I intend to do. Also, don’t even think about exchanging me with Boris. One, he’s boring. Two, I’m younger and better to look at.”
“I wasn’t.” I smile at him. “I’m glad you’re here with me.”
“You won’t ever get rid of me, even if Boss throws a jealous fit and ships me back to the Spetsnaz. I’ll find a way to crawl back here.”
“You say that as if I would let him.”
He gives me a lopsided grin. “Of course you wouldn’t.”
I stare up at the huge house. Its walls are tall, allowing no view inside, and several cameras blink in every corner. My father is inside this place somewhere.
It’s still surreal to think that I have a living parent.
“Are you ready, Yan?”
“I’m supposed to ask you that. The Lucianos are brutal, Lia. Lazlo and his brothers have been ruling the Italian families in New York with an iron fist and they won’t hesitate to shed blood if it serves their agenda.”
“You forget something, Yan. No matter how brutal they are, I’m their blood and that should count for something.” At least I hope it does.
“We will see.”
“What should we do now? Is there a bell?”
“There’ll be no need for that.” Yan tilts his head in the direction of a blinking camera. “They already saw us.”
Sure enough, the gate creaks open with a loud, haunting sound and I jerk before I anchor myself in place.
A guard with a pointy face and a bulky frame that dwarfs his suit comes outside and stands in front of us with his shoulders squared. When he speaks, it’s with a pronounced Italian accent. “Mrs. Volkov, to what do we owe this visit?”
Good. He recognizes me. Yan said they would, that no matter how much Adrian has kept me hidden and out of the limelight, everyone in the crime world makes it their mission to know about his family.
Squaring my shoulders, I speak in a firm tone. “I would like to meet Lazlo Luciano.”
“I’m afraid that won’t be possible without a personal invitation from the Don.”
“He would want to meet me.”
The guard remains unaffected. “Still impossible, Signorina.”
I step in front of him, meeting his impassiveness with a glare. “Listen to me. I came here to meet Lazlo and I will not leave until I do.”
He stares at me but says nothing.
“I’m his daughter,” I whisper. “Tell him I’m his illegitimate daughter with Rachel Gueller.”
The guard narrows his eyes.
“What are you waiting for?” Yan spits out. “Do it.”
“I do not believe you,” the guard says.
“I couldn’t care less whether you believe me or not, but I assure you that you will be sorry if he finds out I came here and you turned me away just because you refuse to fucking check with him.”
The guard stares at us for a heartbeat before he turns around and heads inside.
“Is it done?” I whisper at Yan.
“He’s probably calling him. It’s all up to Lazlo now.”
Only a minute passes, but it feels like an eternity until the guard comes again. “The Don will see you now.”
My heart thumps as I share a look with Yan. The guard leads us inside, but before we can go into the mansion, he shakes his head at Yan. “Only the signorina.”
My friend’s shoulders go rigid. “I’m going with her.”
The guard steps forward, glaring at him, probably ready to throw him out by force.
I touch Yan’s hand and muster a courageous smile. “I’ll be fine, Yan. Wait for me here.”
He doesn’t look convinced, but he also doesn’t act stupid and cause a ruckus when we’re obviously greatly outnumbered by the countless guards we spied in every corner of the property.
“Last door to the left, Signorina,” the guard tells me, motioning inside.
I follow the path he showed me, walking down a long hall with several Renaissance paintings hanging on the walls. By the time I reach the door, my heartbeat is erratic and irregular.
You can do this, Lia.
After inhaling deeply, I knock on the door.
A gruff, “Come in,” propels me to open it and step inside.
Soft piano music fills the place. Chopin.
I expected to find an office, but it’s a dining room. The large table is fit for over fifty people, like one from a castle, and the chairs surrounding it are tall and gold-rimmed.
At the head of the table sits a man who appears to be in his late fifties, but his hair is completely white, even though it’s thick. His physique looks fit for someone his age, with his muscles filling his suit. A scar runs diagonally down his face, across his cheeks. His eyes, though? They’re the same exact color as mine—blue, mysterious. Haunted.
This is my father.
I’ve seen him a few times before at the Bratva’s banquets, but I’ve never stopped to look at him, to even see the resemblance between us. I’ve always kept a barrier between me and that part of Adrian’s life, which Lazlo belonged to.
He’s all alone in the dining room. No guard or family member present. Isn’t he worried that I might do something to him? Though he could easily overpower me if that were the case. And he probably has some guards hidden in invisible places.
He’s cutting a piece of steak in front of him as he watches me with his piercing eyes.
I stand a few seats away, meeting his stare.
“Mrs. Volkov,” he says slowly, with a distinctive Italian accent. “My guard tells me you claim to be my daughter.”
“It’s not a claim.” I swallow down my nerves. “I am your daughter with Rachel Gueller.”
“How do you know of that name?”
“She was my mother.”
“Your mother’s name was Morelli.”
I frown.
“You thought I wouldn’t do a background check on Adrian’s wife when he’s my closest ally in the Bratva?”
“Then you know my father was Paolo Morelli and that I was born in Italy.”
“Correct. Which is why I would like to know why you claim to be my daughter.”
“My mother was forced to leave the States after she got pregnant with me and married my father—stepfather.”
“What are you getting at?” He continues cutting his steak but doesn’t bring anything to his mouth. “Is Adrian aware of what you’re doing? If he does know—”
“He won’t know, because he’s in danger.” I approach him in fast steps, but if my sudden movements alarm Lazlo, he doesn’t act on it. Instead, he observes me closely when I’m a step in front of him. “I’m not sure what else to tell you to make you believe me, and I’m probably wasting my time, but know this, my mother was happy in Italy and with my stepfather, but sometimes, I saw her crying alone. Sometimes, she would hug me and tell me she wished it was different. The day those men came and killed her and Papa, I wished it was different, too. I know someone hid me and smuggled me to the States, but I have no idea who it was or why they did it. All I’m certain of is that it had something to do with you and the Rozettis and that Luca could’ve been working with them…”
I trail off when he releases the utensils and reaches a hand toward me. I’m about to flinch back when Lazlo wraps his fingers around the pendant that’s peeking out from my coat.
His eyes widen as he runs the pads of his fingers across the surface with infinite caution. “How did you get this?”
“Mom gave it to me.”
“I gave it to Rachel. She said it was a precious gift and she’d hand it down to our child if we had one.” He stares at me with what seems like awe. “You…are my daughter.”
“I believe so, yes.”
“And I never knew you existed.”
“I think someone tried hard to make it so you wouldn’t.”
“Or some people.” His expression tightens. “Did you mention a Luca?”
“You know him?”
“Luca Rozetti.”
“His last name is Brown.”
“It’s fucking Rozetti. He and his family have tried every trick under the sun to destroy me, but I never thought they would go so low as to hide you from me.” He stands and strokes my face. “My daughter. My blood.”
I swallow at the tone of his voice, at the way his eyes soften as if he’s finding a long-lost treasure.
“I should’ve found you sooner. If I had known Rachel had you, I would’ve followed her.” He taps the scar on his cheek. “I should’ve sensed something was wrong when she gave me this.”
“Mom did?”
“Yes, though it was a bit of an accident. She didn’t take my engagement to my current wife well and held a knife so I’d leave her alone. I was trying to disarm her when she cut me. That was the last time I saw her.”
“How come you…didn’t hurt her for it?”
“I hurt her enough by choosing another woman over her. You, however, I didn’t know about. If I had, it would’ve been different.”
“Would you have married my mother?”
“No. But I would’ve raised you.”
“That must be why she chose to stay away.”
I can tell he doesn’t like my response, but he doesn’t press the issue.
“How did you know?” He pauses, narrowing his eyes. “Did Adrian figure it out and kept you from me?”
“No, no he didn’t.”
“Then who told you?”
“Luca.”
“Filthy Rozetti.” He curses under his breath in Italian.
“What’s your problem with them, anyway?”
“We always have territory wars. However, they made the mistake of killing my father, so, in turn, we’re killing all of them.”
Typical.
His expression softens as he tightens his hold on my hand. “I’m happy you came, Lia. You are a gift that I’ve finally received.”
“If I’m a gift, then please help me.”
“Anything.”
“My husband, Adrian. He was taken by Sergei because they believe he killed Richard Green in order to help you and betray the Bratva. You’re the only one who can rectify the misunderstanding.”
“I do not get involved in the Bratva’s internal affairs and they do not allow outsiders in.”
“You said you’d help me with anything.”
“Not when it comes to Bratva business. Besides, I don’t believe it was by mere chance that Adrian ended up marrying you. He knew about your relation to me for years yet chose to keep it a secret, and for that alone, I will not help him.”
“He’s my husband and the father of my son. If you don’t help him, then you can forget you ever had a daughter.”
“Are you threatening me, Lia?”
“If that’s what it takes. I don’t want to threaten you, and I really want us to be different and for me to get to know you, so please, please help him. Help me.”
“You will allow me a chance to get to know you?”
“Yes, I will.”
He grunts. “I will try, though don’t get your hopes up. Sergei doesn’t like it when anyone gets involved in his internal affairs.”
A huge smile stretches my lips. “I have a plan.”
