ALEKSEI

MY MOTHER DIDN'T KNOW how to walk away from my father.

Her obsession with him ended up being the cause of her destruction.

All the signs were there.

She'd seen it coming from a mile away, but she was powerless to stop it.

Or maybe she didn't just want to stop it.

Day by day, I watched her deteriorate, slowly tipping to the edge of insanity because the object of her obsession shunned her.

I watched the object of her obsession continue to live like she didn't exist while she withered away in exile.

I made a promise to myself when I was ten.

After watching my mother's downfall, I promised I wouldn't grant anyone that much power over me.

I knew from a young age how humans liked to abuse power once they had it. It was too risky.

I couldn't take the chance knowing that I could suffer the same fate as my mother because I gave someone the irrevocable power to wreck me.

Instead I'd wield that power, bending everyone around me to my own will, using them as I saw fit until they no longer served me purpose.

Love had no place in my life.

When I told my mother that, she'd laughed at me.

"It sneaks up on you, idiot," she'd said while tipping back another shot of tequila. "You have no way of preparing for it. Not even the most powerful of men can. Come see me when you fail."

Her words triggered me. If there was anything I loved more than my brother, it was proving people around me wrong.

At the end of the day, my mother wasn't wrong. Despite her less than stellar parenting skills, she was a smart woman.

I failed.

****

Hello, guys! Welcome to my story. If you're reading this, thank you for giving this book a chance, and I hope you enjoy it!

This book is meant for a mature audience as it contains swear words that might not be suitable to minors. Don't forget to recommend it to others, too!

ARIANA

ROSSI RELATIVES LIKED TO SHOW off no matter the given event.

It didn't matter that it was a funeral. Or that said dead man was their cousin five times removed.

I'd seen about five women donning expensive Cartier bracelets and diamond necklaces that cost more than a year's rent in New York, while they wailed loudly over a man they knew next to nothing about.

Especially one who deserved his death.

Of course, not a single tear slipped down their eyes. Whimpers, loud wails, sniffles, and sobs they could do while holding a crumpled Kleenex to their eyes, but they wouldn't be caught dead ruining their flawless make-up.

Papà wasn't a good man, and that was a truth I'd carried with me for years. Perhaps that was why I couldn't manage a single tear at his funeral. Or maybe it was just because I found crying... unnecessary. The deed had already been done. The smartest thing to do was to move on.

I cringed when another loud wail filled the air, this one accompanied by snorts in between. Cristo. What was wrong with these women? One would think he was their lover or a close relation. Many of them flew in from Sicily and Naples. I could guarantee that not one of them had sat down to have a conversation with him in the past. They were merely distant, extended relatives.

Deciding she wouldn't be left out of the show, another woman screamed in pain, clutching her chest like someone had dug a knife deep inside it.

I eyed her with irritation. I was leaving this ceremony with a killer headache in my skull. That was for sure.

For a second, I contemplated joining Papà in his coffin just so I could escape the theatrics, but I squashed the thought when I realized I'd have to be within breathing space of him.

Beside me, my youngest brother sat with a bored look on his face, looking like he'd rather be anywhere but here. Same here, brother.

Just like me, Enzo didn't like Papà, but no matter how many times I asked, he never told me why. I eventually gave up asking, because we were in the same boat.

In my case, I couldn't tell him even if I wanted to.

I reached for his hand, squeezing it lightly in a silent show of support.

He turned to face me, a slight smile reserved for only family tipping up the corner of his lips. I grinned back at him before placing my head on his shoulder. He wrapped an arm around me, his other hand resting on mine.

To the onlookers, we looked like two grieving siblings, but in reality, we were both relieved he was gone.

As if he'd read my thoughts, Enzo said, "He deserved to die."

I nodded in agreement. That I could easily agree with. Rocco Rossi was scum of the earth.

The ceremony droned on for minutes, our relatives' cries acting as a soundtrack.

Just when I was about to throw in the towel and walk out of the ceremony, the priest announced that it was time for the committal.

I jumped to my feet so fast that I'd have fallen had Enzo not held me to his side. I flashed him an appreciative smile as he led me to our Papà's coffin.

The wails only got louder as we went to say our last goodbyes to the dead.

We had to have a closed coffin during the funeral because my cousin, Nicholas, had tortured him beyond recognition for all his sins. All I could say to that was good riddance.

I felt someone come up to my side, and when I turned, I found my other brother there. Matteo. He and Mamà were the only ones wrecked by Papà's betrayal. Understandably. Matteo had been closer to him than the rest of us. They'd arguably been best friends, so Papà's treachery came as a shock to him.

I slipped my hand into his, squeezing it the same way I squeezed Enzo's, only Matteo needed the comfort. He squeezed back, throwing an arm around Mamà, who stood on his other side.

I shivered slightly as a wave of cool breeze hit my face. It was the perfect weather for a funeral, setting the mood for the somber air that had fallen over the solemn crowd.

Together, we were the perfect, mourning family.

If only they knew I wished I was the last thing he saw before he took his final breath.

*

I shrugged off my coat, handing it to the maid that stood by the front door to collect everyone's coats as they came to say their condolences for the umpteenth time.

Mamà had returned home immediately with Matteo, unable to bear everything that happened. Enzo and I stayed behind for appearances' sake until every last guest had left.

I wanted nothing more than to kick off my six-inch heels. Maybe I could have a glass of bubbly champagne in the privacy of my room while taking a bath. I nodded to myself. That was a foolproof plan. It'd be like my little celebration without anyone being none the wiser.

I began my journey up the stairs, and for some reason, I found my feet dragging me in the direction of his office. I hadn't stepped foot in there in years, so maybe this was my closure.

'Or maybe you're a coward for doing this after his death,' a voice taunted.

I immediately tuned it out.

Either way, I was getting my closure today.

I squared my shoulders, taking sure, measured steps to his office, my heels clicking on the pristine marble floors. I paused in my tracks a few feet away from the door when I heard raised voices. One, in particular, sounded like Matteo.

"Get out! He's dead. We don't have to do shit!"

His outburst was followed by three successive shots. I ran to the door, throwing it open, panic making my eyes wide.

I paused when I saw a fuming Matteo standing behind papà's desk while Nicholas sat next to him, his gun pointed at a man, who sat on the other side of the desk. Two strange men I'd never met before sat across from them, and they both turned around when I burst into the room.

My heart stuttered in my chest as two heavy gazes landed on me. The two men looked alike with their angular faces, sharp jaws, and generous lips. I immediately knew they were related—probably brothers. One had a wider set shoulder and a five o'clock shadow on his jaw. He also looked older than the other man.

"I change my mind," the older man said without taking his emerald-green eyes off of me. "I'll have her instead," he declared, tilting his head to the side with a cocky air around him.

The way he dragged his gaze over my body slowly and intentionally rubbed me the wrong way. I immediately decided that I hated him.

I scowled at him.

There was something about the way he carried himself that said he was a cocky narcissist.

Immediate red flag. I didn't like such men.

"Like **** you will!" Matteo burst out, storming over to my side. "I'm done with this conversation, Niko. Get them out of here," he spat, directing me to the open door.

I'd never heard or seen Matteo this upset before. Papà's betrayal must really be eating him up. I followed him up another flight of stairs until we got to my room.

He threw the door open, gesturing for me to walk in.

"Don't leave your room for the rest of the day. Understood?" He snapped.

I folded my arms behind my back, cocking a brow at him. Did he forget that I was older than him and Enzo?

He sighed, his shoulders dropping. "Sorry, Ari. Just... stay here, okay? For your safety. I have to clean up Father's mess."

My heart melted for him. He was the eldest son, hence the responsibilities of the family now fell on him as the new head of the family. I knew he'd been preparing for this day, but not so soon.

I wrapped my arms around his torso, pressing myself against his chest, silently offering him some comfort. His body sagged against mine, and he tucked his head into the crook of my neck.

"I... ****, Ari... he..."

He choked on a sob, his shoulders shaking with tears. I rubbed small circles on his back, letting him purge it all out.

"He ruined our family, Ariana. He's not who I thought he was. He raped all those... ****!"

He cried silently on my shoulder for over five minutes before he pulled away from me. He plastered a weak smile on his face. "You should go get some sleep. I'll go take care of those Russians downstairs."

I returned his smile, squeezing his hand lightly before closing my door, so he could get back to his meeting.

My plan to celebrate was now scrapped.

Mission make Matteo happy again was now in place.

ALEKSEI

“YOU ARE A DISAPPOINTMENT TO this family.”

Those were my father’s first words the moment I accepted his call. My jaw worked in anger, but I remained silent, letting him get all his anger and frustration out because this time, I did **** up.

“Is this how you plan to take over when I step down?” He spat, his voice deep with anger.

He then proceeded to spew rapid-fire Russian at me, displeasure rolling off every syllable.

I heaved a sigh, checking the time on my wristwatch to see how much longer I had to endure this form of torture.

We still had about ten more minutes to go before he decided he’d said enough.

I zoned him out, trailing my fingers over the paperweight on my desk, doing anything at all to distract myself from this one-sided conversation.

I mentally listed off all the work I had to get done tomorrow while my father’s voice buzzed incessantly in my ear. He could talk for days, that one.

“Do you understand?” He paused to ask as if sensing I wasn’t listening to a word he said.

I hummed in reply to throw him off my tail as I shot off an email to my assistant. Did he fire the bouncer at the fight club as Mikhail had requested?

“Good.”

He promptly hung up after that, deciding that he’d said enough.

I checked the time again. That was surprising. He still had about two minutes more to go.

I threw my phone on the desk, pushing to my feet. If that was not a heart-warming father-son moment, then I didn’t know what was.

I made a quick detour to my bedroom to grab a quick shower before I fixed dinner for myself. I’d given my staff the day off. My assistant had suggested it. He said it boosted their morale, so here I was, left to fend for myself because I wanted the morale of my ******* staff to be boosted.

I ran a towel through my wet hair as I strolled into the kitchen to heat up some of the food the cook had made before she left for the weekend. My stomach growled with a vengeance after I refused to feed it for almost twenty-four hours.

I skidded to a halt when I came face-to-face with my cousin, Viktor, seated at the kitchen island, his face mirroring a blank canvas.

He was a mean **** who acted as my father’s eyes and ears in the Bratva.

The scar that ran down his temple to his jaw was enough to deter people from him, and damn if he didn’t wear the scar like a badge of honor.

He claimed he didn’t like conversing with people, and the scar was his one-way ticket to escape socializing.

All of that wasn’t what surprised me.

No, his presence here did.

My father lived in Russia, so that meant Viktor had to be there at all times. Igor was a paranoid man and he only trusted a handful of people. Viktor happened to be at the top of that list.

I was ready to bet Igor was having a mid-life crisis back in Russia. His favorite ****-rider was in another continent.

“You don’t look happy to see me,” Viktor rumbled. He sounded like he gurgled on glass for breakfast.

Add his voice to the list of reasons people feared him.

I regained composure over myself, tossing him an indifferent look over my shoulder as I pulled my fridge open. “You’re not supposed to be here.”

His tone was colored with amusement when he replied, “The guards let me in.”

“That’s not what I meant. I meant, you’re supposed to be in Russia with Igor, so what are you doing here?”

“Nice way to refer to your father. Show some respect, Alyosha.”

If there was a ****-riding contest somewhere, Viktor would definitely win because of how much he rode my old man’s ****. I couldn’t blame him though. That was the only way he earned his place in the Bratva.

“I told you not to call me that.” I tipped back the almost-empty carton of orange juice, guzzling down the sweet liquid. “Too much familiarity, don’t you think?”

He chose to ignore me, moving on to his next topic of discussion. Classic Viktor. “I’m here because your father has a message for you.”

I couldn’t help but snort. Of course, he did. He always did. “Another message? I just got off the phone with him. What did I do to get so lucky?” I drawled, my tone as dry as the Sahara.

Viktor shot me an unimpressed look, his lips pursed with displeasure.

I rolled my eyes at him. He needed to loosen the **** up sometimes. “Shoot.”

“He wants you to step down and let Misha take over things here. He doesn’t trust your leadership here anymore.”

“He doesn’t trust my leadership anymore, huh?” I asked nonchalantly, like my father questioning my leadership didn’t leave a bitter taste in my mouth.

Did he forget all my contributions to the Bratva?

I was the reason we were where we were today. I sacrificed my teenage years and early twenties to re-brand the family name, and then he was just going to cast me to the side like a piece of used Kleenex? I think the **** not.

“How many men have died in the last few weeks under your leadership? You made the wrong choice. Admit it.”

“How the **** was I supposed to know we would get caught in the crossfire between the ******* Italians?” I spat, anger simmering just beneath the surface of my skin. “I’m not a ******* seer.”

“Exactly! This is the point Igor made during our meeting. You need to accept you were wrong.”

My jaw flexed in anger. That wasn’t grounds to ask me to step down. It was all an excuse. “Okay. Aside from this latest incident, what other thing has made him question my leadership?”

Viktor shrugged carelessly. “You would have to ask him.”

My guess was right.

“No, you tell me. You’re the bearer of bad news.” Plus, he knew everything there was to know about Igor Tarasov.

He exhaled, placing his inked forearms on the marble counter-top. “Look, Aleksei, I don’t know what to tell you. First, you lose the Albanians to the Cosa Nostra, and now, you have an unpaid business deal with a now-dead high-ranking capo in their ranks. Your father isn’t too pleased about you losing over a million dollars, and some of your men.”

It was twenty million dollars, but they didn’t need to know that.

I stroked my chin as I mused over the thought. Igor wasn’t wrong in this instance. I’d fucked up big time, and I’d lost a great deal. The cherry on the already fucked up cake was that Rocco was dead.

I couldn’t even blame their capo for killing my men. His wife and unborn child’s life was on the line. Rocco hadn’t come clean to me from the beginning, and like a ******* fool, I’d fallen for his trick.

I ran my towel through my hair again. “Tell him to give me a chance,” I said through gritted teeth.

Like things couldn’t get any more embarrassing for me. Now I had to plead with my cousin to talk me back into my father’s good graces.

“Igor doesn’t do second chances,” Viktor reminded me.

“If there’s anyone who can convince him to, it’s you.”

“And what do I get in return for my act of kindness?” He asked, cocking a brow at me.

I scowled at him. “Fucking seriously, Viktor?”

He merely shrugged his shoulders. “What? It’s business before family. You should know that by now. Besides, what do you plan on doing when Igor gives you a second chance?”

I pushed my hair out of my face, squaring my shoulders. “I’ll get the Italians in line.”