The Mafia and His Obsession, Part 2 by Lylah James

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 32

 

 

Viktor

 

A few hours later, I found myself standing outside Ayla’s room. Valerie was still sleeping, and I left her there, looking quite serene in her sleep.

Bringing my fist up, I rapped it against the wooden door, waiting for a reply. When I heard Ayla’s soft voice calling out, her command to enter clear, I twisted the knob and walked inside. The room was dark; the curtains had been drawn together to block the sunlight out.

I walked a little further inside until I was standing a few feet away from the king-size bed.

“You made it out alive.”

His deep, rough voice came through in the dark, and it held a tint of pain.

Alessio Ivanshov sat in the middle of the bed, bare-chested and propped up against the pillows with his Queen at his side. He owned the room with his mere presence. Even injured, he sat up straight, his shoulders squared and his head high. A King never bows.

Any other men would have buckle under the intensity of his gaze, but I stayed rooted in the spot I stood. Alessio’s pale blue eyes were hard and dark. Yeah, he was pissed all right.

“I could say the same about you.” I grinned when his jaw clenched and unclenched. I could almost see the angry ticks in his cheeks as he gritted his teeth.

Ayla let out a long, deep sigh from beside him. I almost chuckled at the sight of Ayla babying him. She was spoon-feeding the motherfucker.

“Fuck—” he started but then quieted when Ayla shoved another spoonful into his mouth.

“Shut up. I am doing all the talking today,” she admonished. Alessio turned his face to her and glared, his brows pulling down at the intense look he was giving her. I wasn’t exactly sure if he was angry or he just wanted to throw his wife over his knees and spank her ass—just because he loved a challenge. And right now, his Queen was being one hell of a challenge.

I’d believe in the latter.

From the look on Alessio’s face, he was definitely thinking of several ways to punish her and fuck her right into next week.

“Can you stop giving her that look, you fucking pervert? It’s actually disturbing,” I drawled.

Alessio lifted his eyes back to me, and I watched as he raised his eyebrow mockingly. “I’m not ashamed to admit. I am a pervert,” he said, way too cocky for a person who was wounded.

Ayla’s mouth fell open, and she squinted at Alessio, almost glaring at her husband. “Only for my wife, though,” he continued, now smirking. Bastard. He was toying with her. Ayla squirmed from where she was sitting before leveling him with a hard look.

She cruelly poked his chest, right over his fresh wound. Alessio choked back a scream, his face tightening. He brought his hand over his heart, and he clutched his chest, his shoulders caving in. “Shit. What the fuck? I was only joking, Angel.”

He was chuckling, though.

I shook my head at both of them. Ayla ignored Alessio as she faced me once again. “How is Valerie?”

“Sleeping. She is…okay. I guess?” I wanted her to be okay. I needed her to be okay. And I willed myself to believe my words.

Ayla stared at me for a second. She looked thoughtful before asking, “Do you want to tell us what happened? We’d think after everything, you two would be happy to be back home. But instead, you only look broken. I’m thinking not everything went as you planned.”

My heart lurched painfully and my stomach caved in, my ribcage folding over my lungs. It became hard to breathe, and suddenly the room felt too hot. I rubbed my aching chest, feeling it almost throb. The words spilled out, and I told them the truth. Guilt ate my insides, suffocating me.

I told her about my plan…I told them about Yegor, Irina…and Erik.

Why Valerie looked so…broken. I told them everything.

Reliving the past was harder than I thought. Each inhale left an invisible scar. Each exhale left a burning sensation in my chest. When I was done, both Ayla and Alessio were silent. My knees felt weak, and the inside of me seem to quiver. My heart was a frail organ, I realized. It made me a weaker man. So fucking weak.

Ayla eventually nodded, her eyes filled with nothing but understanding. “Give her time. As long as you are together, all wounds will eventually heal. Yours and hers.”

“I think so too.”

“But you’re scared,” Ayla finished for me. I couldn’t look at her face anymore. That soft understanding expression on her. As if she could read me like a fucking book.

Rubbing a hand over my face, I scratched my stubbled jaw. I couldn’t bring myself to confirm her words. “It’s okay to be scared, Viktor. Things happened. You’re not God. You can’t protect everything and everyone. You can only do so much when you’re trying to handle it all alone. I’m sure Valerie understands that. Right now, she’s hurting. It’s hard losing someone you loved and cared for. So give her time to settle.”

I closed my eyes as a wave of pain sliced through me, but I nodded anyway.

“My turn,” Alessio said, his voice holding a command that could even make the walls tremble and want to kneel.

Ayla only huffed, though, and I opened my eyes once again to see her crossing her arms over her chest.

Alessio stared at me blankly, his hand unconsciously rubbing the bandages covering his wide chest. I knew my bullet hit him good, right where I needed it. It had been close to his heart…so fucking close. But not enough to kill him in an instant. It was a gamble with the King’s life and death.

“Why did you bring me to Russia when your plan was already kicking into action? You didn’t need me there. Fuck…you didn’t even need to shoot me if you were already planning to poison Valentin and blow his fucking estate up.”

Ah. The big question. He wasn’t beating around the bush, it appeared. “It’s all part of the game, Alessio.”

His eyes narrowed on me, his face vicious. “Fuck…you. I have a hole in my chest, asshole.”

“Like me. Matching scars. Soulmates, I tell you. Soulmates.”

Alessio growled, his chest rumbling. But Ayla interrupted, and she cut through our daily pissing each other off contest. “Explain. Now.”

“Three reasons why I needed you there,” I started. “First, it made Valentin feel like he accomplished his greatest desire. He was flying high, Alessio. You should have seen him. He thought he’d won. That look on his face. It was worth it, to look at him and then watch him crumble to the floor. Isn’t that the best part of torture? Make them feel like they won something? Give them what they wanted most? And then take it away in a split second. It hurts like a motherfucker. Think of it as giving a prisoner their last request before their execution. And that’s exactly what I wanted. I wanted him to get a taste of what it felt like to win. I wanted him to taste victory. I wanted him to taste the throne, the crown…what it feels like to be Pakhan. A King. For a minute. And then I took it away. I only wished you had seen his face. It was worth everything I put on the line.”

If Alessio was impressed, he didn’t show it. His face remained impassive. “Second?”

“It was payback for you. It’d be my only chance. To catch you off guard and shoot a bullet through your heart. Payback is it a bitch, eh? We’ve got matching scars now, brother.”

“Third?” he gritted through clenched teeth.

“Stress reliever. You said it once. I had to see how it felt.”

Ayla stared at the ceiling, and she looked like she was praying. I almost laughed at that.

“You are a fucking asshole,” he snarled.

“Pretty sure you take that trophy home, Pakhan.”

Since the moment in Valentin’s office, I had been burning to ask that question. Now was my chance. “What I am still left wondering, though…why did you choose to come to Russia unguarded? You didn’t even pull a gun on me. You sat there, smiling like a fucking clown. You invited death with open arms.”

“You can fool anyone, but you can’t fool me, Viktor.”

I figured that was it. Alessio could read me like a damn book. He saw through the act, through all the lies and façade.

He trusted me enough not to kill him.

My chest warmed at the thought. It was fucking corny as hell to say this—but we were cut from the same thread. Through victory, blood, life, and death. Nobody could tear that bond apart.

“I trust you,” he said. Then Alessio Ivanshov smirked.

My lips quirked up too. “Fuck. We really are assholes.”

Alessio threw his head back and laughed. Ayla shook her head. “I can’t deal with you two anymore.”

“You love me, woman,” Alessio growled. “And you’re stuck with us for a very…very long time.”

That part was true. We had no intention of dying. Not any time soon. Fuck no. We had an empire to lead, to grow, and to watch as the next generation took over.

Yeah. We were in for a long fucking haul.

“There is something you need to know.” Alessio’s voice broke through my thoughts. His eyes seemed to darken some more.

“Erik’s death…”

My heart stammered, and I almost doubled over at the reminder. Jesus Christ. That hurt.

“No. Listen to me, Viktor. It wasn’t your fault.”

My brows knitted together in confusion. My palms were sweating now, and I clenched my hands into fists at my side.

“Angel, can you give him the letter?”

Ayla got off the bed, and she waddled over to me with an envelope in her hand. She gave me a small, pitiful smile. “This will explain everything,” she whispered, handing it to me.

I took out the letter from the unsealed envelope and started reading. The beat of my heart hardened, thumping faster against my chest.

Once I reached the end of the letter, I wasn’t breathing. My lungs started to burn, my eyes watered, and then I exhaled sharply, my whole body shuddering. I felt chilled through my bones and I wasn’t exactly sure how to feel.

“Erik knew it was suicide, Viktor,” Alessio murmured. “He did it with a purpose.”

I couldn’t speak. My mouth went dry and my tongue felt heavy.

“Erik…he isn’t the real son of Gavrikov.” Alessio confirmed what I just read in the letter.

“How…?” No. This couldn’t be right. The letter was a lie.

“Like he said in the letter. He wasn’t the true blood.”

My mother was seventeen when she first fell in love. He’d visit the coffee shop every day, the one her father owned. He was older, much older than her. But it was love at first sight, my mother claimed. She didn’t know she was betrothed to Ivan Gavrikov. When the time came for her to be married, when Ivan came to take her, she was shocked. But she had no choice, really. She left her lover behind, accepted her fate, and went with her intended husband. They were married a few days later. Two weeks later, she found out she was pregnant.

Ivan never said anything. Even though he knew she wasn’t pregnant with his child. The baby in her womb, it was another man’s. He still allowed my mother to give birth. He used to say he was completely enamored by my mother at first sight.

They both eventually fell in love. True love, they said.

He treated me as his son. He still loved me as if I were his son. His real son.

Two years later came Johan. My brother.

Ivan still made me his heir. Even though I wasn’t his, Ivan Gavrikov loved me as if I were his blood.

But that doesn’t change the real fact, does it?

I found out the truth last year. Found my mom’s diary, the one she kept so many years ago. I have been living the bitter truth, and I can’t do it anymore.

It doesn’t matter if Ivan loved me like his son…I am not a Gavrikov.

I can’t be the heir.

I can’t be the boss of this family.

That position is not rightfully mine.

My reign…my empire…it all belongs to Johan.

I want to honor my father, Ivan.

I want to honor the blood of Gavrikov…and do the right thing.

“Fuck,” I hissed under my breath, my hands shaking. “FUCK!”

“He isn’t true blood. The rule of the Bratva says…only true blood can be the heir. Only true blood can succeed the late Boss. And only true blood can lead an empire. It is the rule. It is the vow. For many and many decades,” Alessio murmured. “He knew what he was doing, Viktor. When he accepted his mission, to help you…Erik planned it. He wanted his death. So Johan could take his position as Boss. The only way for him to hand over the title of Boss to his brother without humiliating the family, his name, without bringing dishonor to his late mother and father…”

“…was his death,” I finished.

Johan is wild and carefree. This new transition will fuck him up. But I trust you’d help and lead him to the right path.

Farewell, brothers.

P.S. Fuck it up, assholes. See you in hell.

I reread his last words to us, thinking and wishing this couldn’t be true.

“It was a sacrifice on his part, Viktor. His blood is not on your hands,” Ayla said softly, her voice cracking a little. “He died a hero.”

I let out a humorless laugh. “He always liked to play the role of a savior.”

“Fucker,” Alessio muttered under his breath. His voice sounded hoarse too, laced with too many emotions.

“What do we do now?” I asked, folding the letter neatly and putting it back into the envelope. On the front, there was the Gavrikov seal. The last one Erik must have issued. I rubbed my thumb over it. Farewell, brother.

Ayla grasped my shoulder and squeezed. I leaned into the comfort she was giving. She might no longer be the moon in my life, but she was still the light. When she spoke, her voice was gentle yet solid. “We are stronger together. We move on, Viktor.”