4 • The Bloodlines

• France • 

A year later 

◆ MAXIMILIANO ◆

"Been friends with Archambault a long time?"

"A while." Magnus, the short-haired businessman in the collared shirt grinned at me and my cousin. The guy's smile didn't touch his pale green eyes.

Or they could be gray. Bluish gray. Light green. Who gives a shit... He and Mykaela didn't share any other physical traits besides their height, slim build, and dark hair.

This 40-something wealthy entrepreneur—the firstborn son of a wealthier drug lord—also looked like he could knock anyone down with a single punch. The way he talked as if we'd already met only doubled the air of confidence around him. At least a few inches taller than me and Ricchar, too.

"You trust him with your life kind of friend?" Ricchar chuckled beside me.

"Excuse me. Phone call." Niccolo got up from his seat and flung me a 'Fuck! It's Stefano!' look as he walked off with his phone.

Pappa must be calling to chew him out. Probably growing impatient. Downright paranoid like that immoral, sadistic, murderous asshole he called his "business partner".

"Not all the time." Magnus faked a quick laugh. Although deep and quite intimidating, his voice sounded friendlier than I imagined.

To strangers, this guy looked like just another tourist. Sun-tanned skin. Boring white shirt. Jeans. No flashy jewelry. Nothing about him overtly said billionaire's son. "Archambault's straight and narrow as they come. He's been CIO for five years now."

"That so?" my cousin mumbled with a slanted grin, leaning forward to seem genuinely invested in the conversation.

I'd bet my left nut Ricchar would slap him in front of all these clueless strangers the moment this guy mentioned something remotely insulting.

"His guys are harder to bribe than the rest," Magnus replied. "But they do get the job done. Most of the time."

Obviously this filthy rich jerk was as corrupt as his father. "You've tried greasing their palms?"

"Not really." The guy smirked. "But I know of dozens of people who want Leandro and his entire clan in the clink." Magnus sat up straight and finished his iced drink with his attentive eyes staring right through me. "My vindictive father included."

"You talk to him often?"

"Ilya? On the contrary."

"Why not?" Ricchar's seemingly genuine curiosity etched creases between his dark brows.

"We loathe each other most of the year."

"I see." Matching the guy's fake laugh, Ricchar focused on his bloody rib eye, looking chill and believably hungry. As though he couldn't care less that sitting in front of him now was the man whose father's hired gunmen almost got Cloe killed, his beloved wife.

"My half-brothers tried to kill me once, if that helps paint a clearer picture." Keeping up a crooked grin, Magnus finished his drink.

"You heard he tried to kill my wife?"

The guy nodded faintly as his eyes turned a bit somber. "Yes."

I acted busy with my caviar-studded salmon, weighing the pros and cons of being here with these guys. I didn't wear a wire, contrary to what that Interpol agent advised, but my gun on my hip might come in handy. The restaurant didn't look full or busy, and with our table in this dim corner, privacy wasn't really an issue.

This rich son of a bitch might have something else to say about his father. Ilya's crimes, business plans, and the sick, twisted reason behind his attempts to sneak back into Mykaela's life.

At gunpoint, Magnus might even mention Ilya's whereabouts. "I apologize," he sighed.

Ricchar and I continued eating.

For someone who had never met my family, Magnus sounded quite sincere. "Ilya's not one to say sorry, but do send my apologies and regards to Cloe."

Clasping my cold glass, I eyed him when Ricchar averted his gaze.

So he knew all about that ambush. That bastard he called his father must've gloated to him about it. Did Magnus find out about Ricchar's attempts? That for weeks, he manipulated and paid one of Ilya's whores to poison him? More than twice, he'd said. That old shithead just wouldn't die.

Ricchar sat back and cleared his throat. "Your friend's offer was quite generous."

"Archambault? You two made a deal?" Magnus raised a brow.

"Nicco gave him enough proof, to prove that Ignazio and Leandro help run the trafficking ring," Ricchar answered. "Enough to implicate Stefano as an accomplice, too."

As my fingers turned white around the cool glass, I took a sip of the red wine. My cousin never mentioned we'd fly all the way out here just to willingly divulge our secrets to the enemy's son. The heck? This meeting better not fuck up our plans.

"Did he at least offer you some type of blanket immunity?" Magnus pulled a face, his European accent nearly undetectable.

"If I testify against them."

"The Tomassinis and Stefano?"

"And all the big names on the manifests."

"Now or never, I suppose." Magnus added a casual shrug. "For whatever it's worth, I think it's great. That you're both stepping up, and now cleaning up the family business."

"My wife wants me to do something about it." Ricchar gulped down some of his wine.

"How's she doing, if I may ask?"

"Good," Ricchar muttered. "She's with her family. About to pop any day now."

"Congratulations."

"Thanks."

"Evonne was hoping Cloe could join us." Magnus reclined, smiling as he watched his slim, dark-haired wife from afar. Evonne looked busy with her phone a few tables away. "My wife can't tolerate shop talk these days. Must be the hormones. We're trying to get pregnant, too."

"Best of luck." Ricchar slightly tipped his wine glass. "When's the last time you saw Ilya? Is it true he's ill?"

"Not a while ago. He's not stuck on his deathbed, but, his health seems to be deteriorating."

I kept my mouth shut, poking my food with this stupidly heavy fork, pretending I didn't give a shit if Ilya died today.

Good fucking riddance. This world didn't need another soulless Escobar-wannabe.

I just had to make sure that greedy crime lord would no longer interfere in Mykaela's life. Why a filthy rich Russian mob boss would suddenly take an interest in his illegitimate American daughter who hadn't seen him in 25 years, I could only guess.

"Cancer?" Ricchar muttered.

"No idea yet." Magnus frowned. "His oldest doctor suggests it could've been heavy metal poisoning."

"If Ilya's a real pureblood vamp, then you're essentially the same?" Ricchar put his glass down.

"My mother was Lykan." Magnus forced another smile. "I'm a hybrid, for lack of a better word."

"Right."

Magnus squinted at Ricchar. "You're the only pureblood vamp I've met with a very discerning nose."

"Hyperosmia. My mother was the same. So, Ilya married a pureblood Lykan?"

"Let's just say I was an unwanted accident." Magnus chuckled.

With my fist clenching beside my concealed weapon, my leg turned restless under the table. I eyed the guy sitting across from me, gauging the real emotion behind his reaction.

He seemed too comfortable sharing his family's secrets. Why? Did he really just apologize for his father's crimes? He must think we're just a bunch of spoiled rotten trust fund morons.

I stared him down until he looked away. "What does he want with Mykaela?"

"Ilya? Not sure, to be honest." Grabbing his fork, Magnus glanced at me and stabbed the blueberry cake slice on his plate. "I guess he just wants to introduce her to the family." His crooked smile narrowed. "He's sentimental like that."

"He thinks he's dying and suddenly grew a conscience?" I almost laughed. It just sounded absurd.

"Your guess is as good as mine." Magnus squinted at me. "Do you know he and your father are cousins?"

◆

Cousins?

What? Pappa and Ilya? Related by blood? How?

The fuck's he talking about?

"Are you kidding?"

"No. Ask Nicco," Magnus said with a dead-eyed look. "His friend did some real digging when I paid them to find out what really went down, before Ilya and Stefano scrapped that port deal in Idstrom."

"Where's that again?" Ricchar tilted his chin.

"In the Black Sea."

Niccolo's friend? Did he mean another hacker like Nicco? "What're you talking about? Cousins?" I scoffed.

Ricchar's grin turned amused. "Go on."

"Ilya and Sofija— Pardon. I meant 'Mykaela'..." Magnus said with another feigned grin. "They're descendants of your grandmother's aunt. Angelika."

My grandmother?

"Well, that's what the records say."

"Angelika? Emira's aunt who got killed in the war?" Ricchar asked, scowling and sounding more curious than shocked.

"Not quite. During the war, the Mihajlovićs found her and adopted Angelika."

Mihajlović... Kel's real last name at birth shortly before her mother changed Mykaela's full name.

"They took her to Koslav before she turned 16," Magnus droned on. "Then she met Ilya's grandfather. Decades later, Ilya's parents moved back to Serbia. So on so forth."

"Wow." Ricchar chuckled after the awkward silence. "Sounds like a movie, no?"

"Real life is stranger than fiction, indeed." Magnus shrugged coolly. Didn't even flinch as he explained the whole thing.

Was he making this shit up? But why? It didn't make any fucking sense. He must know it sounded like utter horseshit. If so, his real angle was another mindfuck we should figure out soon. Much sooner than the people with too much power in their hands could derail our plans.

Or all of it could be true. Maybe Ilya and Pappa were somehow related by blood, which resulted in a huge business deal that eventually turned sour.

Well, shit. I'd cluelessly believed my father did business Ilya and his clan of smugglers way back, just because they shared connections in the black market.

So, all this time, Niccolo willingly kept this a secret from me? Fucking traitor. Or, Ilya threatened him to keep his mouth shut.

"Niccolo's friend?" I asked.

"I'm still not a hundred percent sure it's a he." Magnus squinted at something on his empty plate, mumbling his words. "Stefano proposed the port deal to the Russians with Ilya's help. That time, Ilya wasn't the big boss yet."

Sure. Pappa used Ilya to get ahead in the game. Probably true. Not surprising at all.

"He found out Stefano's guys were stealing some during every shipment. So, Ilya broke off the deal. Warned Stefano to stay away from their business after the clan found out."

"Ilya told you all this?" Ricchar chuckled.

"No." With a humorless smile, Magnus stabbed his dessert with the fork that looked too small for his hand. "Alex, my nosey brother, filled in the missing details."

"Then Ilya tells Nicco to do some sleuthing?"

"I believe so. What did Nicco tell you?" Magnus budged in his seat to look at me.

"Enough to conclude that your dad's just another greedy, manipulative asshole." I stared back at him, my face and nape heating up.

Insulting that Niccolo only befriended me to spy on my family and then blackmail us. Then again, I'd have done the same if Ilya threatened my family's safety. Those money-hungry Russians didn't fuck around.

"My sentiments exactly," Magnus replied. "Maybe the trigger was when he found out that his long-lost only daughter finally resurfaced, and is living in Italy with his swindler cousin's son." He snickered. "Of all people."

What? So, it's all my fault? What the shit did he really wanna say? "So everything that's happening is my fault?" I could hurl this wine bottle at him any second now, and my fist itched to punch Niccolo once he's done with that stupid phone call. "Fuck that."

"Don't be too defensive, Maxim," Ricchar muttered, grinning beside me as if thoroughly amused.

"I'm not the enemy here, Maximiliano, and I never said anything was your fault." Magnus gave me a tight grin.

As if it would be enough to calm down the part of me that wanted to shoot him dead right here, right now, including that psychopathic asshole he called his father.

"Maybe when Nicco told him Mykaela's living with you, Ilya was convinced Stefano was deliberately taunting him."

"Does he really want to see her again?" Ricchar sat back and shrugged. "For what? To make up for lost time?"

"I think his age and health problems are making him more sentimental than usual," Magnus replied.

Too wrapped up in his sentimental bullshit that Ilya forgot Niccolo still existed, it seemed. Not a single attempt to communicate the past weeks. At least that's what Nicco said.

Or Ilya found out that Nicco was plotting something with us to put the Tomassinis and Pappa Stefano behind bars. It was Ilya's goal right from the start of this shitty mess—this deadly web of secrets, deceit and betrayal I might have to snitch my way out of just so my mother and I would live to see another day. Or another year.

"If you want to pacify the old crank, just make sure Mykaela agrees to see him again," Magnus suggested nonchalantly. "In New York or wherever she prefers. If she agrees to go back to Belgrade to meet up with him, even better. I'll make sure she goes back home safe and without a scratch."

Not fucking happening. I drew in a deep breath and took a sip of the wine, even though alcohol wouldn't help me calm down one bit. Did he mean if I didn't talk her into it soon, Ilya would resort to his barbaric ways? Again? Did he really hate my family that much? "Tell him to go screw himself."

"Yeah. Tsk. As much as I enjoy family reunions, I don't think she wants to see your father again anytime soon." Ricchar cleared his throat.

"Get it through his thick skull. She doesn't want anything to do with him." I glared at the man smirking at us. "Leave her be. She just wants to graduate and work."

"Piece of advice from someone who's been in the same position before: if you really want to put them behind bars a long time, you should provide plenty of clear audio or video recordings of Stefano talking about his deals with the Tomassinis. Push him to mention details. More names. Dates. Locations. But don't forget to consult your lawyers first."

Ricchar gave a faint nod, as though seriously weighing the suggestion.

"Even better, convince your mother to testify against him." Magnus smiled lopsidedly. "I guarantee Interpol and the prosecutor's would have a massive field day."

"What's your deal?" I eyed Magnus, the smug grin on his face definitely testing my patience. "Why're you doin' this?"

"Not all angels have wings." The guy's mouth quirked into another smirk. "Some have private jets and a vampire mobster for a father."

◆

•••

Recipient: Mykaela

Reply:

"This isn't gonna work out in the long run so let's just call it off."

•••

"Fuck it." Call it off? It sounded infinitely stupider in my head than when I was typing out the words the first time.

Alone in the backseat, I let out a heavy sigh and tapped on 'Send'. I looked out the window, the gloomy sunset doing nothing to alleviate the nauseating wait.

The message should elicit some kind of response from her. A short reply. Or a lengthy, guilt-tripping rant. A panicked call. Anything.

Anyway, it was all my fault. I didn't think this through. I shouldn't have kept her hoping for more, letting her fall for an emotionally handicapped drug addict like me.

After nearly ruining her life by introducing her to my family, I kept stringing her along. Lying and keeping all kinds of secrets from her. Cheating on her whenever it was convenient.

I didn't deserve her love. Or anything from the goodness of her heart. After everything I put her through, I deserved nothing but all the hate this world had to give.

◆

"Are you home?"

"No," I sighed, glancing at the driver's seat, hesitant to turn on speaker mode. Not that Alessio would mind or eavesdrop. My bodyguard knew better than to gossip about my private conversations. "I gotta check on Mamma."

"Why? Is she okay?"

I answered her questions with a vague, half-meant reassurance.

"Are you driving by yourself?" Kel's tone remained serious and fairly worried.

"No," I said calmly. "She told me to come over. Pappa's been missing for days now."

"Missing?"

"Yeah. No calls. No texts. Even Nicco can't trace his phone."

Mykaela didn't say anything, probably too stunned or confused.

"She's prolly just worried," I said casually to stop her brain from going into overdrive. Pappa could've said or done something that made my mother panic and think of the worst. Or Mamma got another bunch of unpleasant news from external sources.

Either way, I should be there. Sooner than the cops or other Tomassini-affiliated scumbags could ruin our plans. I had to talk to Mamma about our family's future, plus Interpol's latest offer in exchange for immunity.

"On my way to their house now."

"Who's with you?" Concern loudened her voice a tad.

"Alei."

"Where's Nicco and Charr?"

"He went to Berlin to see Cloe. Nicco's in the warehouse. Still hiding from Ilya." Niccolo had too much dirt on Ilya and his Russian crime family. Niccolo wouldn't make it to his next birthday without mine and Pappa's help. "Don't talk to him if he calls you again."

Ilya finding her exact location only meant impending danger and chaos in her everyday life. Mykaela had better keep that murderous piece of shit out of her contacts list until his natural death. Or until someone he wronged and pissed off had permanently removed him from this Earth. The authorities included.

"Ilya?" Kel muttered. "He tried to."

Ugh. Fucking knew it.

"Last week," she murmured. "I blocked the number and bought this phone. Brand new."

"Good."

"What's with the, uh, the text you just sent?"

Shit. Did she want me to apologize and explain everything now? "Yeah. About that..." I sighed, my voice probably emotionless to her ears. "I just think it would be best."

"What d'you mean?" Mykaela sighed. "Why? What's wrong?"

"Been thinking about it for a while now."

"And?"

"It's just..." Fuck. How should I say it without sounding like an incredibly selfish, noncommittal prick? "I don't wanna keep this up if we'll just end up hating each other."

"What?" A tense few seconds ticked by. Kel let out a sigh, confusion and worry thinning her voice. "Babe, I don't—  Did something happen?"

A lot. Meeting the rest of the Tomassinis. Plotting their downfall. Meeting her half-brother for the first time. Cutting a deal with the guy from Interpol who wanted to imprison practically our entire clan. Among other things.

Shit. Time and the odds weren't on our side, and I sure as fuck wouldn't make it out of this mess with the Tomassinis unscathed. Or with just a slap on the wrist. Ilya's hitmen might just murder all of us first thing if he believed it would give him the opportunity to see Mykaela again.

But she didn't need to know. Not right now. I'd rather she didn't know about the crazy shit fucking up my life from every angle. Not really her problem. I wasn't that selfish. Medical school and everything else she had to focus on must stay her priority.

"No," I lied through my teeth.

"But why're you..."

"You're too busy with school. You don't need any more distractions," I reasoned. "I'm gonna be stuck here for a while, and, I still gotta sort myself out." Sort out my issues once and for all. For me. Not for anyone else's sake.

Besides, I was far from the kind of guy her parents wanted her to marry. Not that I hoped she'd view me in that light. Once or twice, sure. My imagination went that far. But this thing we had... I knew beyond any doubts this just wouldn't last.

Anyway, she'd be better off with someone else. Someone normal. Trustworthy. More successful. Someone with much less baggage and a non-toxic family. Someone who could give her everything she needed. Wanted.

I was not that guy in any way or form. "It sounds stupid and fuckin' dramatic, but..." I faked a quick laugh. "Right now, I really can't give you the things you want."

"But—"

"It's for the best. Okay?"

"But I wasn't..."

"I can't risk it. Sorry."

"So we're not even gonna try."

Try? Wait. To her, I wasn't even making an effort all these months?

Shit.

Thinking of us and our future only gave me more restless nights. But I tried pretty much everything to make this mess of a long-distance relationship work. And without compromising her safety. Especially her career goals. Did she honestly think I didn't fucking try?

"It's just not the right time. Okay?" I sighed.

"What does that even mean?"

"I'm glad, that we tried. But, it's not meant to be more than this." Because we were blood. Distant cousins, according to her brother.

Then again it could be an elaborate lie. A weird one, at that. Or a case of mistaken identity. Also possible. Or it could be 100% true.

Fuck. Just thinking about it made me want to gouge my eyes out. We didn't even suspect a thing. If somebody told me about it earlier, I wouldn't have tried to sleep with her twice.

Kel scoffed. "More than what?" The disdain in her louder voice wrung my chest. "Did I ever demand you treat me different?"

"No." I held my breath, my brain working double time to make up another bunch of excuses. More believable excuses. "I just need to figure things out. So I can make some adjustments. Major adjustments. Okay?"

Silence.

Was she frowning? Or already crying? Shit. Of course she wouldn't give me the answer I needed. Not that I blamed her. "Kel."

"Figure what out?"

"Just, y'know, get some treatment. I gotta get my shit together soon and fast. Therapy, rehab..." I'd need years of both, probably. "Whatever's necessary."

"I know. It's what I want for you, too. But we could... I could still see you from time to time, though. I still—"

"You know I wanted this to work out. It's just not the right time. Okay?"

Again, no response.

Did she hear me clearly? Was she crying somewhere? Or just pissed off? Probably. Considering the complicated shitstorm I dragged her into, I didn't deserve any more of her time and understanding. "I love you, but I can't promise you anything. 'Cause I know, in the end, I'll just disappoint you." I sighed, trying a gentler, friendlier tone. "Just focus on you right now. School. Training. All your plans."

The line fell silent again.

"Sorry."

Kel's sigh barely made a sound.

Shit. What else did she want me to say? "It's just what I think is..." I gritted my teeth. Now she definitely wanted to hang up and block my numbers, while holding back tears. Fuck. I'd rather not ask. "Best for us both. I'm sorry."

◆