A familiar weight settled on my shoulders, a particular arrogance that only came when Luigi stepped back into the room. It felt like wearing a coat that fit better than it should.
I respected Rodion. Fuck I did. That man was an animal when it came to building and protecting what the Konstantinov Bratva meant. Back when he was chasing the person responsible for our mother and sister’s death, he was dying, terminally ill, yet he pushed through it like he wasn’t decaying inside. Knowing that, I moved faster and found the man, killed him, put him in the ground, and took his identity to do some housekeeping. And Rodion should be grateful because I was the reason he had a wife.
Akim left, and I leaned back in the chair.
Nobody knew I was Luigi except a few people, which meant moving as Luigi gave me a clean separation. And as Iker tried to figure out who Luigi was, he would still be looking at me across a table, making deals with me.
It was a game of deception, and I was the boss.
It also meant moving Inna and Cole to the mansion. The penthouse served a different purpose when I was operating as Luigi. That was not a part of my life I intended to let her see.
Speaking of Inna. She did well at that dinner, which was something I didn’t say easily or often. The way she spoke about inflation showed she had a mind underneath all the chaos. She wasn’t just a girl who stole to survive. I was starting to think she didn’t fully know what she was, yet.
I checked the time, and it was a few minutes to three in the morning.
I locked up the office and went upstairs.
The penthouse lights were still on. The smell of coffee reached me as I walked in. I heard a hiss and a quiet curse from the sitting area. I stepped in to find Inna bent beside the table,rubbing her knee in irritation. She looked up at me, and a smile replaced the frustration so quickly it almost convinced me.
“Hey,” she said while I studied the room. There was a cup of coffee sitting on the table, and the moment my eyes landed on it, she picked it up and stepped toward me. “Oh, I made you coffee.”
My eyebrows went up as she stepped in front of me, holding the cup out. I caught her puffy eyes. She slept on the couch and waited for me.
“You don’t drink coffee?” she asked, and I looked down at the cup. There was no steam, meaning it was cold as fuck. But I took it because I knew this cup had a request underneath it. She couldn’t ask for something without offering something first.
First, it was her body, which was the best thing anyone could offer. Now it was cold coffee, which meant she was running out of ideas, or thought this was going to work. Either way, I was curious.
We stood there as she smiled while I held the cup.
“What is this?”
Her eyes dropped to the cup and came back up. “Coffee.”
I sighed. “What do you want, Inna?”
Her brows pulled together. “Can’t I make you coffee?”
I stared at her.
She gave up the way I knew she would. “Fine. I wanted to thank you for everything. For Cole’s tutor and for…” she looked around and moved her hand vaguely at the room, “all of this. The roof, food, and clothes. I just wanted to say thank you. That’s all.”
Interesting. So people thanked others for things like food and a roof over their heads.
I couldn’t remember the last time anyone thanked me for anything that wasn’t a business transaction or an order followed. The last person who thanked me and meant it was my sister, who was stubborn in the same particular way Inna was. I buriedmemories about her a long time ago, but without trying, Inna walked them back into the room.
I became Luigi to avenge their death, and I was about to wear that name again to dig into the mess surrounding Inna’s family.
Lifting the cup, I took a sip and almost spat it out. It was cold, sickeningly sweet, and one of the worst things I had ever put in my mouth.
“Do you like it?” she asked. “My father taught me how to make it.”
I swallowed, ready to tell her she was banned from going anywhere near that coffee machine for as long as she was in my building. But the words didn’t come because apparently, this girl had a specific talent for making me fold.
“This is how you thank people?” I asked and moved to sit on the couch. She followed and sat beside me.
“I could have bought you something if I had money.”
“And you think money is what’s required to thank someone?”