His Queen of Clubs

by Rose, Renee

But now I have to find out if it’s mine. Alessia would want that.

  And that’s the thought that sends a lance straight through my heart.

  She hates me now after the way I threatened her brother’s lives. It’s true—Victor would never allow them to set foot in this country alive, but I shouldn’t throw such a thing at her. The words were meant to cut.

  And clearly they did.

  I rub my forehead. Hearing Sabina and Alessia were in cahoots together was a shock to me. It cut deep, especially after the way Sabina ruined my life. But I can’t really blame Alessia for accepting Sabina’s help. I’m the asshole holding her prisoner. Keeping her from going home.

  And if Alessia thought the worst of me, if she took Sabina’s side, it’s because she has a soft spot for children. I just took her to an orphanage, for fuck’s sake. So of course hearing I allowed my own child to languish in an orphanage would be the most horrifying, most damning thing she could possibly hear about me.

  That, and me threatening to kill her brothers.

  Not my smoothest move.

  Fuck.

  I really fucked up.

  I try to call Mika again. When he doesn’t answer, I open up tracking software and find his location.

  And then I breathe easy. They are in a nice hotel. Safe.

  Good.

  Tomorrow morning I will go there and try my best to fix things.

  I’ll let Alessia go, because she deserves her freedom. But first I must apologize to her. Do my best to sort out the situation with Sabina’s child.

  I go to bed, but I don’t sleep. All night I keep seeing Alessia’s horror at my words. The way she stumbled back. The way she flinched as if I might hurt her.

  And all night my heart breaks a little more.

  I only manage to doze off right before dawn.

  And then I’m woken by my phone ringing and Mika’s terrified voice. “I didn’t keep her safe, Vlad. Something’s wrong and she won’t wake up.”

  Chapter 18

  Vlad

  No.

  No, no, no.

  I talk Mika through giving Alessia a shot of glucagon at the same time I throw on some clothes and run out the door. I stay on the phone with him the whole time, my heart racing faster and faster when he tells me that she hasn’t woken up. Hasn’t responded.

  “I’m going to hang up and call an ambulance,” I tell him with a calm I don’t feel. “Then I’ll call you back.”

  I hear the wail of a siren as I run into the building. Because I can’t stand to wait even an extra few minutes, I carry her down to the hotel lobby in my arms, her head lolling on my shoulder.

  Fuck.

  Fuck fuck fuck.

  Mika’s eyes are wet and he’s scared. “She said she would check her blood sugar later. And then she fell asleep. I’m sorry, Vlad. I should’ve woken her up.”

  “No. It’s not your fault. And she’s going to be all right,” I promise, even though I’m not so sure. Nothing feels right about this.

  And it’s definitely all my fault.

  * * *

  Alessia

  I’m in a hospital.

  The room comes into focus. The low chatter of Russian coming from the hallway provides the next clue.

  Moscow.

  I was in a hotel with Mika. And I fell asleep without taking my insulin. But I shouldn’t feel this bad.

  I feel horrible. Groggy and tired. I try to move and find blood-filled tubes are coming out of my arm. I try to sit up, but I’m too weak. Too tired. I lift my head and look around. “Vlad?”

  Movement comes from the corner, and Mika’s pinched face comes into view.

  “Where’s Vlad?”

  “He’s here, he’s talking with the doctors.”

  “I don’t feel right. What’s this?”

  Mika’s chin wobbles. I realize his eyes are red. “You had problem. Your—I don’t know how to say it in English—” He touches his back.

  “Kidney?”

  “Da. Kidney failed. Vlad is getting you transplant.”

  Fear shoots through me like lightning.

  A transplant.

  Am I already here? It’s that bad? This is the place I’ve been avoiding even thinking about since my diagnosis in Italy. My worst fear.

  And now it’s happening. My kidney failed. The tubes of blood must be the dialysis. Oh God, my body totally failed me.

  And I’m all alone in Russia. No family, no friends.

  My vision blurs. I haven’t felt this scared or alone this entire time in Russia. Even when Vlad first brought me here and I didn’t know what he had in store for me. Nothing compares to the fear I feel now.

  I don’t like being here in this hospital bed, with tubes coming out my arm, surrounded by nurses who only speak Russian.

  “Your brothers are coming,” Mika says, as if he guesses my thoughts.

  That gives me pause. I try to sit up again, but it’s too much work. “They are?”

  “Da. Vlad called Junior, told him to come.”

  I sink back, relief pouring through me. I’m going home.

  But things with Vlad are too unresolved. I need to see him. I have this sense of being torn in half, ripped right down my center without him by my side.

  “Where is Vlad? I need him.”

  Mika’s jaw tenses. “He can’t come now. He’s with doctors.”

  I reach out and touch his sleeve. “Is he really here, though, Mika? Or are you lying to me?”

  Mika’s alarm seems real. “Nyet.” He looks over his shoulder. “I will see if the doctors are through with him.”

  My relief is short-lived, because I suddenly don’t want to be left alone in a hospital where I don’t speak the language and don’t know another soul. “No, wait—” I call as he heads to the door. “Don’t leave me here alone. Please.”

  He comes back. “Vlad is here,” he says firmly, like he’s afraid I still don’t believe him. “He is getting you a kidney.”

  “Okay. We’ll wait for him, then. What should we do?” I look up at the television on the wall.

  Mika turns it on and flips through the channels, but all the shows are in Russian. “I know,” he says, retrieving his tablet from the chair in the corner. He stands beside me and boots it up. “You like Friends?”

  I give a watery laugh. I thought I’d seen him watching it back when we were in Las Vegas. He settles the tablet on my lap and we watch together as the time passes interminably slowly.

  * * *

  Vlad

  When I wake after the operation, my vision swims from the drugs. Even with pain-killers, I feel the incision, the loss of my organ. As my eyes struggle to focus, I hone in on the dark, well-dressed figure looming over me.

  He presses the hard muzzle of a pistol against my temple. “Give me one good reason not to shoot you.”

  Junior. And behind him stand the two Tacone brothers from the Chicago outfit, Gio and Paolo.

  I blink up, unafraid. If they want to kill me, they can. I deserve it. I suppose I expected to die by one of their hands the moment I decided to take Alessia.

  I wronged their sister and now she lies recovering in a hospital bed because I couldn’t even keep her safe.

  So no, there isn’t a good reason not to shoot me. Not really.

  In the corner of the room I catch movement. It’s not another brother. It’s Mika—pale and scared, eyes as big as his face.

  My chest tightens. The kid’s been through a lot. First his mother runs out on him. Then the entire Chicago bratva is wiped out by the man in front of me. Then I bring him back to Russia and teach him to trust me, only to wind up with a gun at my head and the kid about to witness my demise. Well.

  Maybe there is one reason, then.

  “She wouldn’t want you to,” I grate out, my voice rough from intubation.

  That much is true. I know her well enough.

  “And why is that?” Gio snarls from behind Junior.

  My eyes shift to Mika, and I lift my chin in h
is direction. “She wouldn’t want you to orphan him a second time.”

  Junior shoots a glance at Mika. He’s a hard, violent man. He single-handedly gunned down the entire bratva cell. He won’t hesitate to kill me if he wants to.

  But the moment he sees Mika I know he shares his sister’s softness for children. Something changes in his eyes. He considers the boy. “What’s your name?”

  Mika swallows. “Mikhael.”

  Junior tips his head in my direction. “You want this guy to live?”

  Mikhael nods, a small, rapid movement that doesn’t stop.

  “All right. Fair enough. I guess I owe you that.” Junior pulls the gun away from my head. It disappears into a holster behind his back.

  “How is she?” I attempt to move and wince at the pain.

  “She’ll live.” Junior’s gaze is hard. “We brought our own doctor and we’re taking her home to recover. You go near her again, I’ll cut your balls off.”

  I nod my agreement. I deserve that.

  “And stay out of my fucking country. I see you back in the States, you’re a dead man. Capiche?”

  “Da.”

  “Da,” Paolo sneers. “Fuckin’ Russian.” The Tacones file out of the room.

  I close my eyes in relief. Not that they spared me, but at the news that Alessia made it. The transplant was successful and she now has my kidney.

  I was able to make up for nearly causing her death.

  I’d called Junior and filled him in when I found out her kidney failed. I told him to come right away to take her home after the operation.

  Victor agreed to let them come, but only because I have their money. He doesn’t know I returned it weeks ago. I kept Mika’s account flush, though.

  Before I went under the knife I showed him where it is and how to get to it if anything happened to me. I want him to have options apart from the bratva if he chooses.

  * * *

  Alessia

  When I wake from the transplant operation, I’m alone in my room.

  My worst fear again. Where’s Mika? Why hasn’t Vlad come to see me?

  The door opens and three of my brothers march through—Junior, Gio and Paolo.

  “There she is, eyes open this time,” Gio says with the fake jolliness you use with the ill or underage.

  I should be happy to see them, but all I feel is fear on Vlad’s behalf. Have they hurt him? I didn’t get a chance to tell them not to.

  “Where’s Vlad?”

  Paolo scowls. “In recovery.”

  I try to sit up, but it hurts too much. “What did you do to him?”

  Junior shoots me a strange look. “He just gave you his kidney. Did you know that?”

  My mouth falls open. “No.” It clicks into place. Why he was with the doctors instead of in my room before the surgery.

  “It’s the only reason I didn’t put a bullet in his head,” Junior growls. “That and there’s a kid in his room who seems to care about him living.”

  I blink back my tears. “Don’t...don’t hurt him. Please.”

  Junior’s expression turns kindly. He squeezes my shoulder. Paolo and Gio move in closer, too. Gio picks up my hand. Paolo pats my leg.

  “I’m so fucking sorry this happened to you,” Junior says. “All of it.” He waves his hand around the room. “It’s my fault the bratva came for you and I didn’t keep you safe. I fucked up.”

  Tears leak out of my eyes. “Don’t.” My hands flutter. “Don’t blame yourself. I’m just sorry it ruined your wedding.”

  Junior looks incredulous. “You gotta be kidding me. You’re sorry it ruined my wedding? Kiddo…” He touches my cheek with the backs of his fingers. He clears his throat like he’s getting choked up. “I’m just glad you’re okay. He never hurt you? Because I will seriously tear him limb—”

  “No, Junior,” I interrupt. “He was actually… pretty sweet. Until we had a falling out at the end.”

  “We’re taking you home, baby sister. We brought our own doctor and we have a private jet,” Gio says.

  I lay my head back on the pillow and close my eyes. I’m going home.

  I should be happy.

  But I’m not. I’m just...empty.

  Chapter 19

  Vlad

  “Here, let me take her.” I take the baby from Svetlana, the exhausted nanny, and carry her outside. I murmur softly to her and she stops fussing, hiccupping softly into my neck.

  Her name is Lara, and she’s mine. Seven months old. Prettiest baby I’ve ever seen.

  If it weren’t for her and Mika, I wouldn’t bother with anything. Eating. Sleeping. Living.

  But with children, life goes on. They need us, so we show up.

  So it seems.

  Every day in Volgograd kills me though. Being at the estate without Alessia feels all wrong.

  Everything here reminds me of her and I see her beautiful face everywhere I go.

  I walk to the lake and back and the baby falls asleep on my chest. I carry her back in the house and lay her carefully down in her crib.

  Mika’s at the laptop I bought him with Facebook open.

  “What are you doing?” I look over his shoulder and my heart shatters. He has Alessia’s profile open. A photo of her in a cap and gown smiles up at me.

  Mika slams the lid down like he’s been caught watching porn.

  “Are you in contact with her?”

  He shrugs.

  I stand there utterly lost for a moment, not even sure how to reconcile the tsunami of emotions running through me.

  Mika steals a glance at me. “Why aren’t we going to get her?”

  A surprised scoff comes from my mouth. “Not an option. You heard what her brother said. I go to America I’m dead.”

  Mika looks back evenly. “You’re not scared of them.”

  He’s right. I’m not. I peer back at him. “How do you know?”

  He gives his characteristic shrug. “You weren’t even scared when they had a cocked gun pointed at your head.”

  “I reconciled myself to death a long time ago. Perversely, I think it’s what keeps me alive.”

  Mika plays with the laptop, opening and closing the lid. “I’ve seen you scared, though.”

  “Yeah?” I’m not sure I want to hear where this is going.

  “When I pointed a gun at Alessia. And when she was sick.”

  It feels like my insides are being torn out. “So?”

  “So why aren’t we going to get her?”

  “Because she doesn’t want us to. She doesn’t want me to,” I correct, not wanting him to feel abandoned by her, too.

  Blyat, he probably totally feels abandoned.

  “You never apologized to her,” he accuses.

  And that’s a pain I live with every day.

  I shove my fingers through my hair. “She doesn’t want to see me. And I’m not going to disturb her peace of mind again.”

  It’s better this way.

  The baby wakes up and starts crying again.

  I go back in and pick her up. “I know, baby. I know just how you feel.”

  * * *

  Alessia

  I lay by the pool on the roof of the Bellissimo and watch the sun set. A waiter brings me a Caesar salad, but I set it on the table beside me untouched. Eating is nothing but a chore these days.

  Sondra floats in the water, the only place she wants to be with her big round belly. Nico had a private pool recently installed up here for his wife and sister-in-law. I’m guessing he and Stefano couldn’t stand their women being ogled by the public at the guest pools.

  My brothers brought the best nephrologist in the U.S. with them to Russia when they came for me. I was transported on a private jet with the million dollar surgeon looking after me. My recovery has been perfect.

  They brought me to Vegas instead of Chicago to recuperate. They figured at the Bellissimo, I’d have a host of employees available to wait on me hand and foot. Or maybe they just wanted to provide ample distraction
from my heartache. My mom came too and she’s been doing her best to draw me out of my depression. But I can’t shake it.

  It’s been three months and I’m mostly healed from the surgery, and I’ve been cleared for exercise. My body didn’t reject Vlad’s kidney. My heart hasn’t rejected it either.

  The fact that he was a match feels like fate. Like I was destined to be saved by Vlad and his kidney.

  It’s stupid, but every time I think of a part of him being inside me, keeping me healthy, the noise and anxiety that’s been eating at me since I left Russia diminishes.

  I haven’t heard a single word from Vlad.

  No doubt my brothers had something to do with that. But still.

  It hurts.

  I know I meant something to him. I was more than a monetary transaction or revenge. He gave himself to me. Opened up. Changed.

  And I freaking miss him.

  I miss the incredible sex. I miss our walks to the lake. I miss the energy—the way I always felt watched, appreciated, admired.

  I miss Mika, although he thankfully reached out on Facebook, so we’ve been chatting. I started tutoring him again, which is the only bright spot to my days. I also made a generous donation to the orphanage in Volgograd, and when they sent the thank you letter, the director wrote: We were astonished and grateful for your additional gift. Your husband’s generosity has already made a huge difference.

  Nico comes out on the deck. He’s without the suit jacket but still looks overdressed on the deck of the pool.

  Sondra beams at him from the water and he walks over and crouches by the side. When he cups behind her head and pulls her part way out for a kiss, I look away to give them privacy.

  I love seeing my brothers in love, but every kiss or touch I witness reminds me of Vlad. And that ache hasn’t diminished with time. It’s grown bigger.

  Nico comes over to the chaise lounge where I’m sprawled, and I keep my head ducked down in the latest Tessa Bailey romance I’m reading. Even the fictitious couples falling in love depresses me. I’m so sick of my family trying to draw me into conversation. It’s more painful than wallowing in my own misery.