Page 49 of Thorns of Death
Something in my chest twisted at the thought of anything happening to Isla. It was so volatile that I feared it’d stop my black heart, catching me by surprise.
“So I guess that leaves Enzo to marry Luca DiMauro’s daughter,” he said, stating the obvious. The marriage arrangement was put in place when Luca’s wife was pregnant. “You know, nephew, a lot could happen in the years those children have to grow up.”
“True, but the arrangements will remain.”
“Are you sure it’s wise to pair little Penelope with Enzo?”
“He’ll be the head of our family one day. It’s the only thing that makes sense. Luca DiMauro might still be angry at the way things played out, but he’ll be pleased to know his daughter will continue to be mafia royalty once she marries Enzo. Rather than some third-class wannabe.”
I’d convince Luca to see things my way. He was still steaming, refusing to participate in the Omertà meetings. His brothers-in-law stepped in and it had worked so far, but he couldn’t continue that indefinitely.
“Somehow I don’t get the feeling that Luca nor his wife are thinking the same way,” Marco noted, tilting his head to the phone.
“Probably, but until his access supersedes ours, he won’t be running the show.” He knew I meant access to the drugs that came in through our ports. The only ones that had the means to bypass us were the Yakuza. If Amon Leone decided to take over his stolen empire, his organization would be more powerful than most in the world.
“True.”
I pushed out of my chair, reaching for my suit jacket. “I’m going to call Costello. Handle the rest of the call.”
My cousin’s jaw fell open. “You never leave work.”
I shrugged. “It’s business. And some wedding arrangements.”
I wanted Isla to wear a dress designed by my fashion house. The one I approved of. And I had to go fetch my mother’s ring that was stored among my other assets in Switzerland. I’d be prepared, and the moment she was back, I’d put that ring on her finger and fuck her within an inch of her life. Or mine.
It’d be a good way to die, that’s for sure.
SIXTEEN
ISLA
Isat behind the wheel of my brother’s Land Rover at the arrivals lane of Moscow Airport, typing vigorously on my phone. The end of October was fast approaching and the busy season for violinists—the dreaded holidays—was almost here. I knew people would be pissed I took off, but this was important. I had to uncover the truth about my mother.
So here I was making excuses to my bosses. It wasn’t very responsible, but I refused to feel guilty for doing this. I wanted information on my mother.
A loud squeal had me raising my head to find four familiar figures lugging their fashionable and colorful luggage behind them.
“We’re here,” Raven yelled loud enough to wake the dead as well as draw the attention of every person around.
I rolled my window down despite the cold outside and waved them over before pressing the button to open the trunk. The men here were used to me coming and going. Although I preferred to go rather than come to the cold Russia.
“Put your shit in the back,” I instructed.
Prancing like they were on a runway, they looked like movie stars walking the red carpet. Men and women alike flicked gazes their way, probably wondering whether those four women were someone they knew. Or should know.
Reina wore her Gucci sunglasses, her blonde curls bouncing with each step she took. Decked in a pink sweater dress, white Ugg boots, and a white faux-fur hat, she looked like a Hollywood movie star going incognito—much like her mother and grandmother were. Phoenix wasn’t far off with her dark hair and white sweater dress. Raven and Athena, much like me, opted for black leggings and long sweaters, finishing off their looks with flats.
I’d been back at my brother’s place for only a couple of days, but frustration bubbled inside me. I hadn’t been able to find anything. I searched and searched Illias’s office, library, and even his bedroom. Absolutely nothing.
With all of their suitcases secured, the hatchback started lowering. Before it clicked shut, the doors of the Land Rover opened and my girlfriends piled in like a ton of bricks.
“Do you have any idea how much we love you to make this journey to Russia?” Athena grumbled. “We might not get out of here alive.”
Raven blew a raspberry. “Stop exaggerating. We might find ourselves a hot Russian,” she said, her glove-covered hands coming up to sign.
“I prefer Italian men,” Phoenix signed, confirming once again what Reina had shared with me. Not that I doubted her, but I hoped she was wrong, because it could only mean both sisters would wind up unhappy.
I left my parking spot, glancing over my shoulder to ensure there weren’t any crazy Russians ready to slam into me.
