During our flight, I try to keep my mind on the upcoming meeting, but fail. I keep remembering Elle as she got out of the car and walked out of my life. We both knew that when I returned her cell phone, she had no intention of ever contacting me. My men have reported that she only ever leaves her apartment for work, and her early-morning runs.
I keep pulling up the photo my men sent me of Elle during her jog. I trace a finger across her image. Shiny black hair is pulled into a ponytail. Her body is molded into the lavender leggings and the tank top she’s wearing. Completing the ensemble are her purple, New Balance running shoes. She certainly has an affinity for that color.
Elle didn’t know that I’d saved her contact. My finger hovers above the call button as I pull up her number in my contact list. A battle between the need to hear her voice and the need to keep her safe rages within me. I resist the temptation by exiting and placing the cellphone out of sight in my breast pocket.
Opening the folder in front of me I force myself to concentrate on preparing for the upcoming meeting.
Several hours later, we entered Pavlov’s office. He rises from behind his desk, which is positioned in front of a bullet proof glass wall. The office is in a high-rise building in downtown Chicago that’s owned by Mr. Pavlov, and it affordsus a breathtaking view of the city lights beyond. It’s a prime location in the heart of the city.
He is immaculately dressed in a black Tom Ford suit, with a crisp white shirt and a navy-blue tie. His jet-black hair is long enough to be pulled back at the nape and arctic-blue eyes stare back at us. Pavlov is similarly built to Dante and me, so he doesn’t tower over our six-foot-four frames.
“Mr. Vitelli, we finally meet,” he greets, extending his arm first to me, then to Dante. “You know my brother, Dante.” After a firm shake, he responds, “Yes, yes of course.” He leads us away from his desk towards two armchairs, indicating that we should be seated there. Pavlov then moves to the side table set against the wall to the left of his desk.
“A drink?” He offers as he lifts the decanter to pour the rich amber brown liquid into a glass. When we nod in assent, he proceeds to pour two more glasses of whisky and presents it to us.
He takes a seat on one end of the rich brown leather couch. Pavlov then unbuttons his jacket. Giving us a glimpse of the holster that’s strapped to his chest.
“Thank you for agreeing to meet with us after the recent delay.” I pause to look briefly at Dante. “As my brother explained when he was in contact with you, I was detained.” My attention returns to Pavlov, holding his gaze. “There was an internal affairs issue that we’ve been trying to handle.” Pavlov lifts an eyebrow at this—whilst sipping his whisky.
“My sources tell me that you have a traitorous snake within your rank.” In response to my surprise he smiles with a glint in his eyes, “I always make it my business to know what's going on in the camps of those I do, or plan to do business with Don Vitelli.” Pavlov studies me, but his words fail to elicit a visible reaction. Instead, I remain silent. Of course, the man deals in information, so I shouldn’t have been surprised.
“Seems as though we may have a common enemy—the Albanians.” He states.
“Motherfucker! It’s as I suspected. They’ve teamed up with my uncle, because I ended our association with human trafficking seven years ago.” At this, he leans back into a comfortable pose with his arms crossed across his chest.
“Mr Vitelli, since we’ll be doing business together—I’ll share with you any intel that we uncover. To assist with the disposal of your problem.” He delivers with an expression that is not easily deciphered. “I digress, you're here to discuss our alliance. As agreed upon beforehand, you’ll allow me exclusive access to your docks, and warehouses in Brooklyn to move my product.” He says as he looks through the documents that I hand him.
“We’ll be your primary supplier of arms, and you’ll receive the premium rates we agreed upon,” I state firmly. He acknowledges with a curt nod.
“Of course Don Vitelli, it will be a pleasure doing business with you. The reason I reached out to you is because we are of like mind. I’ve had an eye on you since you became the don seven years ago. I believe our values align. Our world may be filled with violence, necessitating that blood be spilled to secure our territory. But, we both do this without harming women and children.”
Mr. Povlov, signs the agreement before sliding it across the coffee table between us. It was then signed by me and witnessed by Dante. As we conclude our business and are being escorted out of his office, we hear a commotion outside the door. Our hands are already reaching inside our jackets for weapons. They drop to our sides again when we hear the voice.
“Miss! Miss!” Raised voices are heard on the other side of the door. “You can’t enter! Mr Pavlov is in a meeting.” His receptionist pleads. “I don’t give a shit. Who’s going to stop me?”
The door is then thrown open. A petite, redheaded beauty marches right up to Misha Pavlov, and slaps him across the face. “You bastard! How dear you!” As she is about to swing her hand again—he grabs a hold of it, pulling her against his chest. The receptionist stares open-mouthed before turning and retreating to her desk without uttering a word.
“Moya lyubov, now is not the time.” He whispers to her, before looking back at us. Pavlov clears his throat. Holding the woman protectively against his body. “Gentlemen, I’ll be in touch.”
She looks up at Dante and me in surprise as if only now realizing that Pavlov was not alone. When the secretary clearly stated that he was in a meeting. Dante covers his mouth, coughing to hide his amusement. I’m doing a better job of keeping a straight face. “You’re not going to introduce us to your beautiful guest, Pavlov?” I say as I try to poke the bear. “NO!” He shouts, ushering us out the door before slamming it in our faces.
Dante was barely able to keep his laughter in check. As the elevator door closes, he lets it out. Laughing until his eyes tears up. When he could finally speak again, “I thought he was going to shoot you when you asked for an introduction.” I grin as I remember Pavlov’s reaction.
It’s been rumored that Misha Pavlov’s father was a violent man who terrorized his wife and children until Misha was old enough to get rid of him. He’s known to be a hard man, so it was startling to witness his display of tenderness to the beautiful stranger.
My father was also a horrible husband. His marriage to my mother was not a love match. Theirs was an arranged marriage. It joined the Sicilian Caruso Mafia Family and the New York Cosa Nostra. My father was cruel to my mother, flaunting his many mistresses. To this day I’m unable to understand how she thought herself to be in love with him.That had changed soon after the marriage once she began to experience his cruelty. Both physical and mental. She often had to cover her bruises with makeup.
As a child, her sadness would tug at my heart. I wished that I could have saved her. Despite her unhappiness she made sure that her children, Dante, who was four years younger than me and myself were loved. Witnessing their marriage firsthand made me vow to never marry. After all I don’t have a need to bear any children of my own, as Dante is my heir. He can lead the Family when the time comes.
But now the thought of marriage isn’t as displeasing as it was before. An image of Elle as my future wife pops into my head. Before I was sent away to Harvard to study Business—my father’s abuse had never extended to his children. Unbeknownst to me, this had changed when I was away. He started to lash out at Dante.
As the eldest son of the don, my training started at fourteen. By the time I was sixteen I’d taken my first life. This was the bastard's way of toughening me up. He wanted to undo my mother’s influence so my father had me go out with the soldiers and enforcers. Eventually, I earned the position as an enforcer before my eighteenth birthday. He then sent me away to Harvard at nineteen, so that I’ll be able to run the Family business when it was time to do so.
I didn’t realize at the time that he was jealous of the respect that I’d earned with the soldiers. The old man was accustomed to ruling by fear and he was able to ensure obedience by his constant display of cruelty. He didn’t want me to be around to see his abuse of my little brother and mother. The bastard controlled them with threats. If they were to ever reveal his abuse to me—Dante was told that our mother would be auctioned off. And my mother was afraid that he would fulfill his promise to have Dante and me killed.
I eventually found out when I unexpectedly came home for Dante’s sixteen birthday, and I made sure that he could never harm them again.
Chapter 11
