Page 32 of Innocent Bratva Twins
She nods. “Alright,” she sighs, a little sulky. What makes this funny to me is how efficient she is at being my assistant—normally, she wouldn’t question any work-related requests—but the idea of missing a meeting has made her very upset.
“You can walk around a bit if you finish before me. If you see anything you like, get it—just use my card.”
***
Unfortunately, the lead is a complete waste of time. A total dead end.
The guy whose name I was given clearly has no idea who Andrei is. He’s thick as a plank, and I don’t think he could put together decent mac and cheese, never mind orchestrate an escape plan for someone running from the mafia.
I’m frustrated, disappointed, and tired when I fetch Serafina from the mall. She packs the laptop into the trunk of the car and climbs into the passenger seat, smiling. “How was the meeting?” she asks, eager to find out.
“It was alright,” I say tightly, lost in thought about why the intel was so bad. I wonder who Arkady’s source was. Did they send us out here on purpose, some distraction technique?
“Nico?”
“Mm?”
“Did it not go well? You look upset,” she says, frowning.
“It was okay,” I say, shaking my head. “Uh, let’s go through to the museum place. Where was it again?” I’m distracted and worried. I don’t like being played like that.
“No, let's skip the museum today. It looks like you need a drink instead,” she says, reaching out and touching my leg. “You win some, you lose some, right?”
She smiles, trying to reassure me that even though the meeting I didn’t actually have went badly, it’s not the end of the world.
My heart melts a little, looking at the warmth in her eyes.
“I would love to have a drink with you,” I nod, pulling out onto the road and heading towards a cocktail bar at the waterfront next to our hotel. It’s a gorgeous place with great music and great views.
As soon as we sit down at the bar, Serafina orders two shots of tequila.
“It’s a bit early for tequila, isn’t it?” I muse, watching her lean against the bar.
“It’s never too early for tequila when you’re in New York,” she says with a serious expression.
She slides one of the shots over to me and winks, teasing me with her beauty.
Three shots of tequila and two cocktails later, we’re both laughing, sitting out on the deck. The early evening air is growing darker around us and my heart is happier and more relaxed than it has been in a very, very long time.
“But what made you choose this career?” she asks, her eyes glittering in the fading light.
“Mm. I don’t know if I chose it, not directly. It’s more accurate to say that it is the role I was destined to take in my family.”
“Why?”
Her curiosity has been the driving force of our conversation all afternoon.
“My siblings and I—we wanted to build something together. Each of us had a role to play, and this was mine.” I shrug. I don’t want to accidentally steer the conversation towards my family's ties to the mafia. I specifically chose to work in a part of the business that didn’t include dealing with the mafia as much as possible. My brothers deal with that side of things. I run the legitimate businesses.
“Do you have any brothers and sisters?” I ask, leaning back in my chair.
“Nope. I’m an only child. And I lost my parents in a car accident when I was pretty young.” She presses her lips together.
“I’m sorry. I never knew.”
“It was long ago. I still think about them often. I miss them all the time. But it’s okay. I wish I had siblings so that I still had family, but growing up an only child wasn’t as bad as most people make it out to be. Sure, I would love to know what it’s like to have a massive family, but being an only child had its perks, too.”
I can tell she doesn’t want to focus on the loss of her parents, so I take her lead and leave that conversation for another time, if she ever wants to talk about it.
