I take a careful sip. "You think they were involved?"
"The bomb was sophisticated. Russian-made components, according to our sources." Her eyes scan the room. "But the Morozovas wouldn't move against us without backing. Someone financed this, someone who wanted Father out of the way."
"The Albertos have always resented our territory in Brooklyn."
Valentina's lips curl into a humorless smile. "And now they're meeting with the Chinese. New alliances are forming while we're busy burying our dead."
I study her face, searching for the grief I expected. "You don't seem particularly broken up about losing him."
"Father was many things, but warm wasn't one of them." She drains her glass. "Alessandro's different. Colder, more calculating. At least Father had moments of humanity."
"And Adriano?"
"Lost." Her gaze drifts to our youngest brother, who stands rigid beside Alessandro. "He's become Father's hammer without Father's restraint. Alessandro points, Adriano swings."
I absorb this information, piecing together the new landscape I've walked into. "And where do you fit in this new order?"
“Wherever I can.”
I start to ask another question, but the words die in my throat as Katerina enters the room.
She moves through the crowd with regal grace. Time and even our cool encounter in the church haven't dulled the impact she has on me, that immediate, visceral reaction that turns my blood to fire.
"You're staring," Valentina murmurs, amusement in her tone.
I tear my gaze away, downing the rest of my whiskey in one burning gulp. “If her family is involved, she has some nerve?—”
“She lives here.”
My attention jerks to Valentina. “What? Since when? Why?”
"Since you left." Valentina takes my empty glass, replacing it with a fresh one from a passing server. "Father kept her close. Said her diplomatic skills were too valuable to lose, especially with the Bratva breathing down our necks."
I watch as Katerina navigates the room, stopping to speak with Alessandro.
Even from here, I can see the easy familiarity between them, the way she leans in slightly when she speaks.
Something sharp and ugly twists in my chest. Maybe I will challenge him for the throne.
"Has she been here the entire time? Seven years living under this roof?"
Valentina studies me, her eyes too knowing. "She tried to leave once. Father convinced her to stay."
"Convinced her how?" If my father weren’t already dead, I’d kill him for touching what’s mine.
"Not like that." She rolls her eyes. "He gave her the cottage, complete privacy. Her own staff. Freedom to come and go."
Alessandro catches me watching them and whispers something to Katerina.
Her head turns, those blue eyes finding mine across the crowded room.
For a heartbeat, everything else fades away.
I drag my attention away from them, not wanting to give my brother any leverage over me.
A small figure, a boy maybe six or seven, darts through the crowd, weaving between guests.
He reaches Katerina, tugging insistently at her hand.
