“Those words never left my lips.”
“Please be good, Stella.”
“You’re good enough for the both of us, Anna. Let me just be me.”
With a wink, I leave in search of trouble. Because Kirill Petrov is definitely trouble. And on a boring night like tonight, trouble is exactly what I’m in the mood for.
Chapter 1
Kirill
As I step into the lion’s den masquerading as a ballroom, only one thought claws its way through the noise—Kira. Since the Romano spawn walked into my club two nights ago, she’s all I can think about. Nothing else has mattered.
Misha’s orders haven’t stopped echoing in my head either. Not since I told him that one of Vincent Romano’s twins had a photo of our dead grandmother’s bracelet on some faceless woman’s wrist. A face that might just belong to the missing piece of our family.
Hope isn’t something men like me can afford, but the moment I saw that picture, I dared to believe.
Maybe Kira isn’t lost to us after all. Maybe she’s alive. Maybe she’s closer than we ever imagined. We spent years searching for her. Years losing hope.
Shame and guilt gnaw at me for ever thinking that finding Kira alive and well was just a far-fetched dream—one our family didn’t deserve to come true.
The only one of us who never gave up was the man who made sure Katya’s killer met the same end as our beloved sister. Misha never gave up on finding our long-lost niece. It’s not in his nature to give up. For my brother, giving up on Kira would be the same as betraying Katya’s memory. And he’d never allow that from any of us.
Still, honoring our sister was easier said than done. Katya had always been the clever one in the family. If she wanted to hide her daughter from the world, she would’ve moved heaven and earth to do it. After all, she left us behind in Russia to protect her unborn child from Vasily’s callous hands. So I’m not surprised that even in death, she found a way to shield Kira from the dangers of the world.
The only thing my brave sister didn’t account for was getting caught by that bastard, Vasily, in the end. Or maybe she did. She hid Kira well enough—from him, and from us.
Knowing that a piece of Katya survived, but that we—her blood—were shut out of Kira’s life in the process, is a wound that has never truly healed.
Misha turned vengeful. Sasha grew cruel. While Kostya and I were left with nothing but emptiness. Emptiness and duty. In our pursuit to annihilate everyone tied to Katya’s downfall, we became the very monsters she once fled from. We becameBratva.
This is our life now. And I can’t help but wonder what my doting sister would think if she saw us like this. Would she be proud? Or would she be grateful that her daughter never grew up in a world like ours?
Either way, there’s no turning back now. This life claimed our souls long ago.
Like my eldest brothers, I took theBratvabusiness like a fish in water.
Kostya, on the other hand, resents every part of it. I blame the years he’s spent in America, chasing the illusion of a dream that was never his to have. Still, for Katya’s memory, he’s endured every trial that comes with being a Petrov. For years, that name has meant nothing but blood and loss.
Maybe this is our chance to change that. To lead us back to something pure. Now, we finally have a clue. A chance to bring back the last untainted part of what we once were. To bring a piece of Katya home.
That’s why I’m here at this cursed ball, forced to play nice with people who mean nothing to me, just to get closer to the king of Chicago’s underworld—theCapo Dei Capihimself, Vincent Romano.
If his children know where Kira is, I need to worm my way into his kingdom and into the Romano clan’s orbit.
The fatal mistake would be asking the crime boss outright where my niece is. That would be offering him one of my family’s greatest weaknesses on a silver platter. Not that it would do us any good since I’m positive that Vincent is as clueless about Kira’s whereabouts as I am. He doesn’t know. On that, I’d bet my life.
Nocapoworth his salt would ever let his kids wander intoBratvaterritory without a phalanx of bodyguards. Vincent would be furious if he found out three of his children came to pay me a visit alone. The only sensible conclusion is that their little field trip to my club was done off-book, without their father’s consent or knowledge. That alone confirms my suspicion that Vincent has no idea about Kira’s existence or her importance to my family. Only his children can point the way.
Still, Misha was very insistent that I be on my best behavior when acquiring intel. Not that he cares about such pleasantries, but Vincent and Misha have an unspoken alliance that’s served us well as theBratvatakes root in the States. With Sasha havingall but declared war on the Cranes in London, the last thing Misha wants is to pick a fight with the Outfit.
Wars are expensive—both in lives and in money. And when it comes to fucking with a boss’s children, it’s a death sentence waiting to happen.
I’ll just have to get creative.
With my head back on the game, my signature smirk tugs at the corner of my lips as the sea of tuxedos and glittering gowns parts, eyes following my every move as I walk deeper into the room in search of my target. I’m not one bit bothered by the way these vapid socialites and the supposed rulers of the world whisper behind my back and gawk.
I’m used to standing out. Especially when it comes to the way I present myself. Unlike most of the men here, I refused to wear a monkey suit for the occasion. Instead, I chose a suit and kept my usual all-black attire. It’s sharper, cleaner, but still mine. No tie. Never a tie. Mostly because I like the scandalized looks I get whenever the upper crust and high society types come face to face with the ink branded on my neck.
