I swirl the amber liquid, considering my options. Alessandro's finally seeing me as an asset rather than a threat.
The way he watched me break Victorio.
There was respect there, maybe even admiration.
The timing might be right to negotiate.
"I need my family in Chicago," I'll tell him.
An alliance between New York and Chicago, with blood ties to strengthen it. He's pragmatic enough to see the benefits.
The Bratva is the real problem.
They'll see Katerina leaving as a betrayal, especially after Pyotr's death.
And that Pakhan, Maksim, he's been too quiet.
After demanding my head on a platter, he's barely made a move.
That kind of silence from a man like him is dangerous.
I drain my glass, the burn in my throat matching the fire in my chest when I think about anyone trying to keep Katerina from me.
I'll burn the whole fucking Bratva to the ground before I let that happen.
Footsteps pad across the floor behind me. I turn to find Enzo standing there in his school uniform.
"Hey, buddy." I crouch down to his level. "Ready for school?”
“I want to stay home with you and Mommy.”
“That would be fun, but then you won’t learn important things you need to know.”
“Like what?”
Like what, indeed. “Well, like how to balance your bank account.”
He makes a face.
I laugh and ruffle his hair. "You hungry?" I wonder what Katerina is doing. Is she getting dressed? Hiding from me?
He nods, eyes lighting up. "Can we have pancakes?"
"Pancakes it is." I lead him to the kitchen and hoist him onto the counter. He watches as I gather ingredients.
"You're doing it wrong," he informs me when I start mixing the batter.
"Oh, yeah? How's that?"
"Mom puts vanilla in. And cinnamon." He points to the spice rack. "And she uses that silver thing, not a spoon to stir.” He points to a whisk.
I raise an eyebrow. "Is that right?" I add his suggested ingredients, switching to a whisk. "Better?"
He nods approvingly.
While the pancakes cook, he bombards me with questions. What was I like at his age? Did I always want to work for the family? How many people have I shot?
That last one nearly makes me drop the spatula.
