Giovanni
“One grande caffe latte, iced, with cinnamon and vanilla syrup,”
Alina repeats to the cashier like a memorized rhyme, all the while glancing at me for approval. It’s almost cute just how lost she is in the world of Chicago-and it makes her play right into my hands. That’s exactly what I needed.
I chuckle under my breath and nod, holding her gaze and leaning on the counter next to her. God, it turned out to be so much easier to get to her than I expected. Raisa and Irina are right outside the coffee shop while their guards are scattered all over the floor. They’re probably looking out for any Mexicans who would know that their naive and vulnerable little girl is back in Chicago and try to get close to her.
It is a good idea to keep her away from others-but well, they’re looking in the wrong direction.
Alina Pushkova is not as young and silly as I expected her to be, though. While she’s talking to the cashier with a confused smile and a frown, probably struggling with his accent, I raise my cup of coffee to my lips and take a good look at her again.
I’m used to seeing Russian women who are tall, slim, and cold- natured; Alina looks like the complete opposite of them. She’s short, curvy, and rather open with her emotions, smiling shyly whenever our eyes meet. But at the same time, she is similar to her mother and sisters. Alina has honey-colored hair that reaches all the way down to her shoulder blades, light skin, and blue eyes-all common traits in the Pushkov family.
But it’s clear that her mind isn’t as cold and calculating as theirs, and her heart is too open for her own good.
“I did it!” Alina turns to me with a bright smile after the cashier finalizes her order and writes down her name. “Thanks so much…”
Her voice trails off, and she clears her throat and quickly looks away with a tint of blush on her cheeks. Yeah, she’s too good to live in this city.
“Gio,” I help her finish the sentence and take a sip of my coffee, glancing at her family behind the window. I can’t let her know my real name, of course. The moment they hear it, it’s over for me.
Thankfully, the Russians seem to be occupied by the news about the Escarras showing up not far away. Yes, I’ve brought a couple of men with me just to distract them, and it seems to be working perfectly. But eventually, they’ll turn their attention to Alina, and I don’t want them to find me standing right next to her. I’m clearly outnumbered, and I don’t want to lose my chance at gaining her trust right at the beginning.
“Nice to meet you, Gio,” Alina’s voice pulls my attention back to her, and I pull out an automatic smile that’s supposed to make me look nicer than I really am. Under my gaze, she grabs the strap of her backpack and
clears her throat. “I’m-”
“Alina?” the cashier calls out, holding up her cup of coffee. Alina giggles at the timing and looks up to meet my gaze for a moment before turning away to get her cup.
I guess it’s the best time to leave her before the Russians notice me but for some reason, I stay in the same place, waiting for her to turn back.
“Well, you can guess my name now.” Alina chuckles, pushing a strand of her hair behind her ear, and lingers beside me. It’s clear that she doesn’t want to part, but I can’t push my luck so much as to ask her to sit at the table with me.
I’ll find a way to meet her again. It’s the main objective of my mission after all.
“Glad to help, Alina.” I give her a nod and a smirk, pushing my hands into my pockets. “Have fun in Chicago… Oh, and by the way-”
I stop halfway through walking away and look her in the eyes. “Your accent is beautiful.”
I have to leave a perfect first impression, don’t I?
Alina immediately blushes, looking away and holding her cup so tightly I expect it to pop open any moment, and I like her reaction. It means my charms are working. Actually, I wouldn’t mind making her blush even harder, but I can leave that for later.
Right now, I have to make sure that I get out of this coffee shop alive-so I give her a quick final glance and walk away to take a seat at one of the tables. From the corner of my eye, I can see that Alina lingers behind me, reluctant to leave, and I almost expect her to follow me. But eventually, she lets out an audible breath and walks away, leaving me with my own cup of coffee and growing satisfaction in my chest.
Well, the first step of my mission is a success. Unexpectedly great success!
I can’t help but smirk into my own cup, watching Alina join her family outside the coffee shop. It looks like Irina isn’t happy about her being away for so long; she looks around with a sharp gaze while two of their guards come back to their sides to guide them to the exit. It’s clear that they’ve all already heard about my men hanging out in other parts of the
airport-but they don’t see their main target right under their noses.
I chuckle to myself and shake my head as my gaze drifts to Alina. She follows her mom and sister to the doors, looking down, but when they almost reach the door, she quickly looks behind herself. Is she looking for me? Can she see me from there? I hope so. I want her to keep thinking about me-it’ll make it easier to approach her later.
They disappear out of my sight a few seconds later, but I don’t follow them this time. I’ve done enough for one day. Even if there was
another chance to talk to Alina one-on-one, I’d rather not risk it again-she may get suspicious.
A few minutes later, I receive a message from San, one of the men who are keeping an eye on the Russians.
They’re driving away. Follow them.
For now, I’m gonna leave it to them to keep track of Alina’s location. I bet they won’t be able to get much information before the Pushkov drive deeper into their territory and disappear from our radars. I get up from my seat and roll my shoulders, walking to the exit. Gerardo’s people will take it over from there, so by the time I’m ready to spy on Alina again, I’ll know where exactly to find her.
Instead of following the Russians, I take my car and drive straight home-and when I say home, I mean the apartment I share with my sister. It’s a well-maintained, spacious place that maybe lacks some privacy but is convenient to always be in touch with the rest of our gang. It has two
bedrooms, a living room, and a balcony that Isabella used once to shoot one of the Messinas who got into our territory uninvited.
“Hey.” It’s all I get from her when I enter the apartment and linger in the hallway to take off my jacket. Isabella does peek out of the kitchen to give me a frown. “Did you buy the sauce?”
Oh, shit. She texted me about it like two hours ago.
“I forgot, was busy chasing the Russians all over the airport.” I shrug it off, walking into the kitchen past her, and Isabella huffs.
“It’s not an excuse.”
“Whatever. What’s the smell?” I look around, sniffing the air, and Isabella purses her lips and demonstratively points at me with a spatula.
“It’s pasta that you are going to eat without any sauce now because whatever, right?” She mocks my voice before turning away to the stove, and I roll my eyes. Why do I have to live with her, again?
Well, actually, it’s not a necessity for us to live together, but we’re kinda used to it. Isabella and I only have each other, and we’ve been living together for the last decade or so, ever since we moved out of Cassio’s mansion… And yes, if you remember correctly, Cassio used to be the don of the Messina Clan.
Mom used to work for the Messinas when we were children, and actually, I kinda liked Cassio and his family at the time. Even though we
were kids of his cook, Cassio always treated us with kindness, and Isabella and I used to play games with his sons at the back of their property. I have a lot of good memories from that time-but they make me even more angry
at Riccardo for his betrayal.
When we were teens, Mom sent me and Isabella to join our family members in the Escarra gang. At the time, the Escarras were growing and gaining power in Chicago, but they were still overshadowed by the Italians and Russians who were ruling over the underworld. I didn’t understand at the time that the Messinas would become my enemies-but Uncle Nicolas saw it very clearly. Years later, when the Escarras had gained enough
strength, he directed the first blow at Cassio.
Nicolas organized an explosion in Amber Peak, Cassio’s favorite restaurant, that killed him, other members of the Messina family, and
dozens of innocent people-and all of it just to show that the Escarras were a force to be reckoned with.
I found out that it’d been Nicolas’ plan all along only the next day, and no matter how loyal I was to my family, I still got mad at him for doing something so horrible. I headed straight to Nicolas-but even before I got there, I received a call from Gerardo that changed my life forever.
They’d found Mom shot in her back in her own apartment.
After Cassio’s death, the Messinas lost their minds with desire for revenge; they were storming our borders, killing every member of the Escarra gang on their way, leaving bloodbaths all over Chicago. They
wanted to get back at the people who had killed their don.
But what did my mom have to do with all that? How did she threaten them? She was just a cook-and yet, they murdered her in their blind hunger for wicked justice.
I still remember the moment I saw her cold body in the hallway of her apartment, the sensation of Gerardo’s hand on my shoulder, and the sound of Isabella crying on the stairs. My world turned upside down at that moment. How could I fail to protect Mom? How could I live without her?
It took me a few seconds to force myself to walk to Mom’s body, each step heavier than the last, until I kneeled on the floor by her side. My fingers were trembling when I reached to hold her hand, and in her curled fist I found a ring. She’d always said it was the only thing she’d gotten from my father, and even though she could get a fortune for it, Mom had never
sold it. She’d held on to it till the last moment of her life.
While Isabella is arranging the dining table, complaining about my daggers lying in the kitchen, I reach for the chain around my neck. At the bottom of it, Mom’s ring is tucked securely against my chest, and I feel the touch of it send a spark of angry fire into my heart. Of course I kept the ring not as a memory of my parents’ unfortunate love but as a reminder of the Messinas’ betrayal.
They killed Mom despite all the kindness and care she had shown them during decades of living together. The people Mom trusted with her whole heart had shot her in the back-and for that, I will never forgive them. I will keep chasing them until my revenge is satisfied. Until Riccardo pays for his order to kill her, with his own blood.