He waves me off. “Go back to bed. In the morning, you and Yuri will go to Rome for a nice play date with Giovani.”
I stand still, staring off into the dark corners of the room.
Markov leans back in his chair and crosses his arms. “Unless there’s some reason you’d like to disclose as for why you’ve been avoiding Italy for three years?”
I blink. “I haven’t been avoiding Italy.”
He raises a knowing brow. “Really?”
I force a shrug. “It’s too warm there. I am but a simple Russian boy.”
“A simple Russian boy who has been framed for murder.”
“We all are at least once.”
He laughs. “That is true.”
I pat his shoulder. “Goodnight, Markov.”
“Spokoynoy, Luka.”
Three years. Is that how long it has been?
It feels much longer than that. In truth, I never planned to go back there at all. There’s no point to it. Going back to Rome would only answer questions, ones I’d much rather leave unanswered.
Life is simpler that way.
* * *
“We need to come here more often, Luka,” Yuri says, staring out the window at the bright, Italian cityscape.
I shift in my seat. The closer we get to the Zappia estate, the more I twitch. I can’t sit still no matter how hard I try, but it’s not just the possible murder charge breathing down my neck giving me the jitters.
“I prefer Moscow,” I mutter.
“Moscow this, Moscow that. Home is great, but you should travel more often, little brother,” he says, slapping my shoulder. “You can’t go by the book all the time. Live a little. Break a few rules. It’s good for you.”
“I’ve broken plenty of rules.”
He scoffs. “Like what?”
I flex my jaw. “Me living by the book has kept you alive, hasn’t it?”
“Is that really all you care about?”
“Yes.”
“If my death is what it would take for you to have a little fun, then I will throw myself on a damn sword right now.”
I laugh. “You wouldn’t know which end of a sword to hold let alone which end to throw yourself on.”
“Is it not the pointy end anymore?” he jokes.
“We can travel once I get this Petrovin business squared away.”
“I will hold you to that.”
I nod and look forward as the car pauses in front of the black gates of the Zappia estate. Traveling doesn’t sound so bad at the moment. I’d love to get as far away from this place as possible, but Markov was right about Gio. If anyone can get me out of this and clear my name, it’s the Zappias and their far-reaching influence.
The car stops and I step outside first, glancing around the grounds as I did three years ago. The wedding lanterns are gone, stripped away with all the other decorations, but more bright-colored flowers have taken their place. My eyes flick toward the back garden, drawn to the path like a magnet. I force myself to turn away from it.
The front door opens and Gio appears with a grin. “Buon giorno, Lutrovas!” he greets, throwing up his hands. “Welcome back.”
Yuri climbs the concrete stairs, but I linger behind, pretending to scan the grounds again with my head down. Avoiding Italy meant staying away from many things — especially Gio.
I glance at my watch. It’s just before noon. If I play this right, we can be out of here within an hour. Get in, explain the situation to Gio, and get out. There’s no need to stay any longer than that.
I throw on a smile and follow Yuri to the front door. “Privet, Gio,” I say, extending my hand. “It’s good to be back.”
He shakes my hand, whipping his wrist like a damn cowboy. “If only it could be under better circumstances,” he says.
“What did Markov tell you?” I ask, pushing as hard into business as possible while ignoring Yuri’s annoyed glance.
“Murder and mayhem in Moscow, as usual.” Gio chuckles. “He mentioned a few details, but most was deemed too sensitive for a phone conversation.”
“That’d be right.”
Gio waves us inside. “Well, let’s not speak outside. Let’s head to the study. You can fill me in there.”
Yuri nudges my ribs, his way of urging me to pump the brakes, but he has no idea what the other side of this doorway might mean to me. If I’m lucky, the path to Gio’s study will be clear and quiet.
Get in. Get out. Go home.
I follow them inside with my head down, listening to the two of them pass small talk back and forth. How is your mother? Is the business going well? Has your brother opened any new places? I don’t even hear the answers over the ringing in my ears.
As we move down the hall together, my neck tilts upward on its own, forcing me to look around and my memory returns to me. Once again, the estate hasn’t changed at all since I last saw it. The same boring paintings line the walls with the same over-the-top furnishings in every corner. The security has been cut in half — but there’s no special occasion calling for guns this time. Just me and Yuri.
We round the corner toward Gio’s study and I come to a grinding halt as something small collides with my knees. I let out a groan, thinking I’ve run into some ugly Zappia trinket, but my breath catches when I see otherwise.
It’s just a little boy.
He wraps his arms around my ankles to hold himself up and I freeze as he looks up at me with playful intent.
Those eyes.
They’re mine.
Bright and silver, somehow copied and pasted from my face onto his. He has that natural Italian look about him with brown hair and puffy cheeks — but those eyes.
The boy blinks, and I wonder if he sees it, too.
“Get back here!”
Her voice echoes around the corner before she even shows her face. As she rushes toward us, she keeps her head down and reaches for the child, but he holds onto me a little tighter, refusing to be tugged free.
“What have I told you about running in the halls?”
Sofia.
She’s even more beautiful now than she was before. I flinch at the perfect sight of her. Her chestnut hair has grown longer, and she’s secured it back in a sloppy ponytail. Stray hairs spider down over her forehead, framing her thin cheeks. She wears a loose blue dress with short sleeves, the skirt dangling down over her ankles. The stress of motherhood has done nothing to wrinkle her face. She does appear a bit tired, but I suppose the tiny ball of energy standing on my shoes explains that one.
Sofia leans over to gently pry his hands from my trousers. “Lucian, you know better than this…”
Lucian.
She scoops him into her arms as she stands up. “Apologize to…” Her eyes finally land on me and her breath leaves her body. “Mr. Lutrova…”
“There’s no need to apologize,” I say, still transfixed by his eyes. “You’ve done nothing wrong to me.”
Sofia looks from his face to mine and she turns away to conceal the blush in her cheeks from Gio’s watchful eyes.
“You both remember my wife, Sofia,” he says to us.
I clear my throat. “Of course, Madam Zappia.”
“It’s a pleasure to see you again.” Yuri nods.
Gio slides over to her and pokes the child’s ribs. “And this handsome young man is my son, Lucian!”
Sofia’s eyes instantly flinch to mine. She says nothing — she isn’t allowed to speak to me directly — but I read every word on her tongue by the look on her face.
“He is very handsome,” Yuri says, grinning wildly at the boy. “Well done, Gio.”
“It was quite simple, really,” Gio gloats. “Born nine months to the day of our wedding. Now, if only conceiving the second one was as easy…”
I bite my inner cheek, feeling a quiet rage building inside of me at the mental image those words bring.
Yuri waves a hand. “Oh, I’m sure you’ll be blessed with another son when the time is right. By the looks of him
, I’d say Sofia has her hands full enough already.”
“She could always do more,” Gio says, casting a look of blame onto her before shifting away. “Come on. I’m eager to hear more about your little problem.”
Yuri turns to follow him, but I linger behind, feeling completely latched in place near the boy.
My son.
With those eyes, how could he not be?
With that look on Sofia’s face, could there be any doubt at all?
I turn away, realizing that I’ve stood in place for too long, but I glance back one more time. “You mind your mother, Lucian,” I say to him.
Sofia blushes and takes a step back. “Come on, Lucian, it’s time for your nap.”
He fidgets in her arms and she lowers him to the floor before he can pull out of her grasp. Yuri pauses to watch them as I do, grinning as the child runs down the hall away from her. Sofia picks up her speed, but she can just barely catch up to him as he blazes out of sight around the corner.
“He’s quite the rambunctious lad, isn’t he?” Yuri notes.
“A trait he gets from his mother, I assure you,” Gio murmurs. “I keep insisting we belt it out of him, but Sofia believes he’s perfect just the way he is.”
“Perhaps she’s right,” I say, digging my nails into my palms. “A mother knows best.”
Gio scoffs and rolls his eyes. “Perhaps.”
He and Yuri continue on down the hall, chatting and chuckling, but I don’t follow right away. I try to move, but I can’t.
The odds were stacked against Sofia from the start. There was never any guarantee that there’d be a child at all, let alone that he would be mine. I always assumed that if he existed, I’d feel him out there somewhere. I never did. Now that I know for sure…
I never expected to feel so regretful.
Lucian is my son, my blood, but I don’t know a thing about him. I don’t know what toys he prefers or what colors he likes best. I don’t know what his favorite food is. I don’t even know his birthday. I don’t know a damn thing about my own son.
Sofia’s rebellion has gone completely according to her plan. Somehow, the stars aligned just right that night and those few moments we spent together changed everything. She carried him for nine months, she gave birth to him. For three years, she’s kept our secret safe right under their noses, just like she said she would.
For three years, my son has been claimed by a gutter rat like Giovani Zappia.
But that was the idea from the beginning. Sofia promised she’d never ask anything of me again. I’d bear no commitment to him. I’d hold no responsibility for either of them. She would raise him, teach him, guide him, and someday, she’d pull the rug right out from under them and the Zappia way. No one would ever know I was involved at all. Sofia would take that secret to her grave and I’d take no blame whatsoever, no matter the fallout.
I continue down the hall, forcing my feet to move but I can’t shake the dark spot taking hold of my gut.
Gio fathers my child. He provides for him and Sofia the way I should be. Lucian will grow up with an image of his father in his mind and that face will be Giovani fucking Zappia.
I pause by the study doorway and shove my hands into my pockets to hide my closed fists.
“Stop lingering around, Luka,” Yuri calls from the sofa with a glass of bourbon swishing in his hand.
I peek inside and my eyes fall on Gio across from him. My rage spikes. If I walk in here now, I might take it out on his pathetic, little face.
“I’m going to check the grounds,” I say instead.
Yuri laughs. “This is the Zappia estate, little brother. You don’t have to play security here.”
Gio waves his hand. “It’s all right.” He chuckles, bringing his own glass to his mouth. “Muscle does what muscle does. I only wish my own bodyguards were as dedicated as he is.”
I flex my jaw. The last thing I want to hear coming out of Gio’s fucking mouth is a goddamn compliment.
“I’ll be back soon,” I say, forcing a smile.
I don’t wait for a reply. I walk on down the hallway until I can no longer hear Gio’s inane cackle echoing through the corridor behind me.
Lucian Zappia is my son.
What the hell was I thinking?
Chapter 9
Sofia
Luka Lutrova.
Nothing in the world could have prepared me for that. I didn’t even know the Lutrovas were coming to the estate today. If I had known I’d come face-to-face with Luka this afternoon… I probably would have avoided it altogether, to be honest.
But I’m happy I didn’t.
I stare at Lucian in his crib from my rocking chair beside it, unable to pull my eyes off his face. His thick forehead. The shape of his chin. Every single part of him. Now that I’ve seen Luka again, it’s more obvious than ever where he really came from.
I’ve imagined it many times before, that inevitable moment when Luka would meet his child. I pictured it differently. In my head, Luka would nod and say hello. He’d recognize him but, as planned, he’d pretend not to. He’d deny everything and go on with his life — as we both agreed.
I never once pictured that look in his eyes or that brief smile beneath his sharp lips.
Luka knew in an instant that Lucian was his and, in the very next moment, he claimed him.
It was so subtle and fleeting, it’s possible Luka didn’t notice it himself, but I did. I saw that tick in his eyes, that quick change in him that could mean everything or nothing at all.
In the end, it will mean nothing. It has to mean nothing. That was our plan. That hasn’t changed.
I take a deep breath to soothe the heat growing inside of me, but my cheeks burn red.
Lucian stirs in the crib, gently kicking his legs before settling back down again. He’ll sleep for another twenty minutes or so before standing and trying to escape over the walls of his crib. I know the feeling, my darling.
My heart thumps harder in my chest. Luka Lutrova is here. Right now, he’s sitting in Gio’s study as if nothing ever happened between us. Soon, he’ll leave and who knows how long it’ll be before he comes back. It’s been three years since I saw him last. It might be just as long before I see him again.
My nerves twitch with fire, but I urge myself to stay in my chair. To confront him here would be far too risky. Preserving this secret is more important than my own desires. It’s more important than the subtle throbbing inside of me. That warm ache I haven’t felt since that night in the shed…
I stand up and bounce on my toes, attempting to shake off the urge in me. If I don’t walk this off, I’ll go crazy. If I keep pacing around in here, I’ll surely wake Lucian up. I don’t want to deal with a frustrated toddler right now.
I open the door and silently step out into the hallway. My entire body tingles, triggering the hairs on my arms and neck to stand tall. It doesn’t matter how many steps I take, I can still feel that burning inside. I can feel him near me — even in a house so large and guarded.
My legs run on autopilot, taking me here, there, and everywhere without a map. The magnet in my shoes pulls me around another corner and I freeze in place as he comes into view.
Luka stops as I do, and we stare at each other for several silent moments. My heart knocks against my ribs. He’s still so handsome and exotic — like nothing I’ve ever seen behind these stone walls. My mouth waters. I watch as his eyes trail down to my toes and back and he forces himself to take a breath.
Instinct pushes me forward. I walk in his direction, unable to do a damn thing to stop myself. Everything screams at me, begging for me to touch him, but I know that I can’t. I veer off course and I pass him by, beelining toward the laundry room across the corridor.
Luka shifts on his feet to watch me move and I make sure he’s looking before I step inside.
I spin around and I wait for him to follow me in. My pulse thumps louder in my ears. I barely even hear it when the door opens, and he walks inside.
“Sofia…”
It’s a distant echo — just like in my dreams. I blink over and over again, wondering if he’ll disappear each time I open them. If I reach out, will he fade away into a black mist?
“He has my eyes.”
I smile but it quickly falls. I turn around toward the washers and dryers and spin the dials on each one, flicking them on to drown out the sound of our voices from any ears passing by in the estate.
I look up into his gray eyes, bursting with fresh emotion. “Yes.” I nod, whispering beneath the machines churning behind me. “He does.”
Luka steps closer and inhales deep. “I…” His voice struggles under the weight of his breath. “I didn’t expect that.”
“Neither did I, but… I knew before he was even born that he was yours. I could feel your blood pumping through his veins, like… it felt like a bolt of lightning every time his heart beat.” I twitch with great excitement. Three years. I’ve wanted to say this for three years. “When he opened his eyes for the first time, I saw you staring back at me and I…”
I fell in love.
I swallow the words down, too embarrassed to say it out loud.
Luka takes another step forward with a furrowed brow. “You named him after me.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Why not?” I grin.
“You shouldn’t have done that, Sofia. Why take the risk?”
“Gio is daft as rocks,” I argue. “He’ll never know.”
He steps back and looks around the room, his eyes gliding over every little thing he can to avoid staring at me. Laundry baskets, ironing boards, bottles of detergent.
“Gio wants me to give him two more boys,” I say. “Three sons, just like him and his brothers.”
Luka pulls his eyes off the floor and I see the pain in them. “Will you?”
I shake my head. “I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“He’s certainly trying,” I say, unable to stop the laugh clawing its way up my throat. “But what Gio doesn’t know… is that I had myself sterilized the day Lucian was born.”
Luka pauses, his gaze involuntarily falling down my body and back again. “Sofia…” he whispers.
Killer Love Page 6