Isabella Moretti.
The lady with unquenchable fire in her eyes and unapologetic grace in her movements. I had only met her on a few occasions, and this was an occasion to see her again; Icouldn’t let it go to waste, even though I had no idea what to say to her.
It didn’t take long to find her once I arrived with my men. She stood with her gaze intent on the casket as it was lowered, like she was in a private conversation with the body it housed. I was definitely not the only man whose eyes weren’t on the coffin. Her black hat added a demure touch to the dress that revealed a generous amount of the skin of her back, despite the bulk of hair that cascaded down. I couldn’t be more pleased when she turned to the side, giving me a front view that made me want to step closer to her. The flare of her hips was the only thing the front of the dress revealed. The dark red on her lips accentuated the gloom in her expression, which morphed into anger as I moved closer.
The shock I felt at her angry accusations quickly evaporated. Of course, Marco would have told her we were behind her brother’s death. He must have spun stories in a bid to distance himself from his son’s death. Her reaction made complete sense. However, there was a tiny irritation I felt about the fact that I couldn’t spill the beans, as much as I wanted to give her the answers she sought. Viktor, the Pakhan, had stated that nothing more than a warning must be given today. So, I did the only thing I could, given the circumstances. I directed her to her father, Marco. Surprise and confusion were evident in her eyes when Viktor joined us, implying that her father had hidden things from her. She had clearly expected her father to deny or argue, but he didn’t. And that further proved my assumption that Marco thought she didn’t need to know anything. That wasn’t all I noticed in the short conversation.
I saw how calm she forced herself to be in Viktor’s presence. I had always found it an impressive feature in awoman to know when to be quiet—not that I’d ever had any reason to say it to anyone. I had spent enough time around women who prided themselves on their pseudo-confidence, ranting and babbling without discretion every chance they got. Her silence as Viktor spoke told me she was even stronger than I had thought.
Her anger resurfaced once Viktor turned around and, as much as I might have liked to make Marco tell her everything, I had to leave. My biggest consolation was the fact that, with Marco’s recent activities, we’d be meeting again soon, one way or the other.
I met Viktor standing in front of his car, his phone pressed to his ear. The call ended as I approached him.
“Sergei has the information ready,” he informed, putting his phone into his pocket. “I asked him to head over to your estate. Roman is on his way, too.”
“Great. Okay then,” I remarked, nodding.
“Time to go,” he directed, walking towards the passenger door, which one of his men held open.
“Let’s ride together,” I suggested. “I mean, we’re headed to the same place.”
He blinked at me, his silent question of whether it was necessary clear enough.
“Our men take my car, we take yours,” I went on. “I’m driving.”
“Of course, you are,” he answered before getting into the passenger seat and telling his men to join my men.
As I sat behind the wheel and steered the car onto the street, Viktor shrugged out of his suit and rolled up his sleeves.
“So…I might need your input,” I revealed, my eyes on the road ahead.
“Input?”
“Yes. There’s been a small issue at one of my warehouses. I was informed just before I arrived at the funeral.”
“And what’s it about? How does it involve me?”
“Some clients received incomplete orders. Everyone involved will surely claim they had no hand in how the drug shipment went wrong.”
“Then pressure them all. The witnesses will reveal the culprits,” he advised, glancing at me.
“Yeah, but it’ll be a lot faster if you help. I really don’t want to add this to the long list of things I have to deal with in the next few days.”
“So…?”
“It’s the warehouse at the end of Ridge Avenue. We’ll pop in, sort the issue, and head over to mine in minutes.”
“I should have known better than to agree to ride with you,” he admitted, looking out the window.
I grinned.
“Of course you’ve gone soft, bro,” I teased.
“Shut it,” he uttered, his attention on what he was typing on the phone he’d just pulled out of his pocket.
Viktor had become anything but soft. But that didn’t stop me from teasing him about going soft since he fell in love with Emilia, his wife and the mother of my only nephew. Of course, finding love changed him, but going lax with Bratva business wasn’t one of those changes. Aside from the happiness and satisfaction that radiated from him, Viktor now lived more intentionally. Fewer late nights at work, more unexpected compliments using actual words, and more consideration towards staff. While I couldn’t relate to it, I knew enough to know he now lived like a man who had someone to go home to. My brothers and I couldn’t deny that, while he had always led the Lobanov Bratva with unquestionable integrity, he now led with a larger purpose.
“Thanks in advance,” I remarked, chuckling.
