Bloodlines: A Bad Boy Secret Baby Romance (The Snake Eyes Series Book 4) (8 page)

“Yeah, yeah…”

He waves me off. “Go back to bed. In the morning, you and Yuri will go to Rome for a nice
play date
with Giovani.”

I stand still, staring off into the dark corners of the room.

Markov leans back in his chair and crosses his arms. “Unless there’s some
reason
you’d like to disclose as for why you’ve been
avoiding
Italy
for three years…?”

I blink. “I haven’t been avoiding Italy.”

He raises a knowing brow.
“Really?”

I force a shrug. “It’s too warm there. I am but a simple Russian boy.”

“Yes. A simple Russian boy who has been framed for murder.”

“We all are at least once.”

He laughs. “That is true.”

I pat his shoulder. “Goodnight, Markov.”

“Spokoynoy,
Luka.”

Three years. Is that all its been?

It feels much longer than that. In truth, I never planned to go back there at all. There’s no point to it. Going back to Rome would only answer questions; questions I’d much rather leave unanswered.

Life is simpler that way.

***

“We need to come here more often, Luka,” Yuri says, staring out the window at the bright, Italian cityscape.

I shift in my seat. The closer we get to the Zappia estate, the more I twitch. I can’t sit still no matter how hard I try and it’s not just the possible murder charge breathing down my neck giving me the jitters.

“I prefer Moscow,” I mutter.

“Moscow this, Moscow that. Home is great but you should travel more often, little brother,” he says, slapping my shoulder. “You can’t go by the book all the time. Live a little. Break a few rules. It’s
good
for you.”

“I’ve broken plenty of rules.”

He scoffs. “Like
what
?”

I flex my jaw. “Me living by the book has kept you alive, hasn’t it?”

“Is that
really
all you care about?”

“Yes.”

“If my death is what it would take for you to have a little fun then I will throw myself on a damn sword right now.”

I laugh. “You wouldn’t know which end of a sword to
hold
, Yuri, let alone which end to throw yourself on.”

“Is it not the pointy end anymore?” he jokes.

“We can travel once I get this Petrovin business squared away, Yuri.”

“I will hold you to that, Luka.”

I nod and look forward as the car pauses in front of the black gates of the Zappia estate. Traveling doesn’t sound so bad at the moment. I’d love to get as far away from this place as possible but Markov was right about Gio. If anyone can get me out of this and clear my name, it’s the Zappias and their far-reaching influence.

The car stops and I step outside first, glancing around the grounds as I did three years ago. The wedding lanterns are gone, stripped away with all the other decorations but more bright-colored flowers have taken their place. My eyes flick towards the back garden, drawn to the path like a magnet but I force myself to turn away from it.

The front door opens and Gio appears with a grin.
“Buon giorno
, Lutrovas!” he greets, throwing up his hands. “Welcome back.”

Yuri climbs the concrete stairs but I linger behind, pretending to scan the grounds again with my head down. Avoiding Italy meant staying away from many things — especially Gio.

I glance at my watch. It’s just before noon. If I play this right, we can be out of here within an hour. Get in, explain the situation to Gio, and get out. There’s no need to stay any longer than that.

I throw on a smile and follow Yuri to the front door. “
Privet,
Gio,” I say, extending my hand. “It’s good to be back.”

He shakes my hand, whipping his wrist like a damn cowboy. “If only it could be under better circumstances,” he says.

“What did Markov tell you?” I ask, pushing as hard into business as possible and ignoring Yuri’s annoyed glance.

“Murder and mayhem in Moscow, as usual,” Gio chuckles. “He mentioned a few details but most was deemed too
sensitive
for a phone conversation.”

“That’d be right.”

Gio waves us inside. “Well, let’s not speak outside. Let’s head to the study. You can fill me in there.”

Yuri nudges my ribs, his way of urging me to pump the brakes, but he has no idea what the other side of this doorway might mean to me. If I’m lucky, the path to Gio’s study will be clear and quiet.

Get in. Get out. Go back home.

I follow them inside with my head down, listening to the two of them pass words back and forth.
How is your mother? Is the business going well? Has your brother opened any new places?
I don’t even hear the answers over the ringing in my ears.

As we move down the hall together, my neck tilts upward on its own, forcing me to look around and my memory returns to me. Once again, the place hasn’t changed at all since I last saw it. The same boring paintings line the walls; the same over-the-top furnishings litter every corner. The security has been cut in half — but there’s no special occasion calling for guns this time. Just me and Yuri.

We round the corner towards Gio’s study and I come to a grinding halt as a small child collides with my knees.

The boy wraps his arms around my ankles to hold himself up and I freeze as he looks up at me with playful intent.

He has my eyes.

Bright and silver; somehow copied and pasted from my face onto his. He has that natural Italian look about him with brown hair and puffy cheeks — but those
eyes
.

The boy blinks and for a second, I wonder if he sees it, too.

“Get back here!”

Her voice echoes around the corner before she even shows her face. As she rushes towards us, she keeps her head down and reaches for the child but he holds onto me a little tighter, refusing to be tugged free.

“What have I told you about running in the halls?” she sighs.

Sofia.

She’s even more beautiful now than she was before. I flinch at the perfect sight of her. Her chestnut hair has grown longer and she’s secured it back in a sloppy ponytail. Stray hairs spider down over her forehead, framing her thin cheeks. She wears a loose blue dress with short sleeves, the skirt dangling down over her ankles. The stress of motherhood has done nothing to wrinkle her face. Although, she does appear a bit tired but I suppose the tiny ball of energy standing on my shoes explains that one.

Sofia leans over to gently pry his hands from my trousers. “Lucian, you know better than this…”

Lucian.

She scoops him into her arms as she stands up. “Apologize to…” Her eyes finally land on me and her breath leaves her body.
“Mr. Lutrova…”

“There’s no need to apologize,” I say, still transfixed by his eyes. “You’ve done nothing wrong to me.”

Sofia looks from his face to mine and she turns away to conceal the blush in her cheeks from Gio’s watching eyes.

“You both remember my wife, Sofia,” he says to us.

I clear my throat. “Of course, Madam Zappia.”

“It’s a pleasure to see you again,” Yuri nods.

Gio slides over to her and pokes the child’s ribs. “And
this
handsome young man is my son, Lucian!”

Sofia’s eyes instantly flinch to mine. She says nothing — as she isn’t allowed to speak to me — but I read every word on her tongue by the look on her face.

“He is
very
handsome,” Yuri says, grinning wildly at the boy.
“Well done, Gio.”

“It was quite simple, really,” Gio gloats. “Born nine months to the day of our wedding. Now, if only conceiving the
second
one were as easy…”

I bite my inner cheek, feeling a quiet rage building inside of me at the mental image those words bring.

Yuri waves a hand. “Oh, I’m sure you’ll be blessed with another son when the time is right. By the looks of him, I’d say Sofia has her hands full enough already.”

“She could always do more,” Gio says, casting a look of blame onto her before shifting away. “Come on. I’m eager to hear more about your little problem.”

Yuri turns to follow him but I linger behind, feeling completely latched in place near the boy.

My son.

With those eyes, how could he not be?

With that look on Sofia’s face, could there be any doubt at all?

I turn away, realizing that I’ve stood in place for too long, but I glance back one more time. “You mind your mother, Lucian,” I say to him.

She blushes and takes a step back. “Come now, Lucian… it’s time for your nap.”

He fidgets in her arms and she lowers him to the floor before he can pull out of her grasp and take off down the hall.

Yuri pauses to watch them as do, grinning as the child runs down the hall away from her. Sofia picks up her speed, but she can just barely catch up to him as he blazes out of sight around the corner.

“He’s quite the rambunctious lad, isn’t he?” Yuri notes.

“A trait he gets from
his
mother
, I assure you,” Gio murmurs. “I keep insisting we belt it out of him but Sofia believes he’s perfect just the way he is.”

“Perhaps she’s right,” I say, digging my nails into my palms. “A mother knows best.”

Gio scoffs and rolls his eyes.
“Perhaps.”

He and Yuri continue on down the hall, chatting and chuckling, but I don’t follow right away. I try to move but I can’t.

The odds were stacked against Sofia from the start. There was never any guarantee that there’d be a child at all, let alone that he would be
mine
. I always assumed that if he existed, I’d feel him out there somewhere but I never did. Now that I know for sure…

I never expected to feel so
regretful
.

Lucian is my son, my blood, but I don’t know a thing about him. I don’t know what toys he prefers or what colors he likes. I don’t know what his favorite food is. I don’t even know his birthday. I don’t know a damn thing about my own son.

Sofia’s rebellion has gone completely according to her plan. Somehow, the stars aligned just right that night and those few moments we spent together changed everything. She carried him for nine months, she gave birth to him. For three years, she’s kept our secret safe right under their noses, just like she said she would.

For three years, my son has been claimed by a gutter rat like
Giovani Zappia.

But that was the idea from the beginning. Sofia promised she’d never ask anything of me again. I’d bear no commitment to him. I’d hold no responsibility for either of them. She would raise him, teach him, and guide him, and someday, she’d pull the rug right out from under them and the Zappia way. No one would ever know I was involved at all. Sofia would take that secret to her grave and I’d take no blame whatsoever, no matter the fallout.

I continue down the hall, forcing my feet to move but I can’t shake the dark spot taking hold of my gut.

Gio fathers my child. He provides for him and Sofia the way I should be. Lucian will grow up with an image of his father in his mind and that face will be Giovani
fucking
Zappia.

I pause by the study doorway and shove my hands into my pockets to hide my closed fists.

“Stop lingering around, Luka,” Yuri calls from the sofa with a glass of bourbon swishing in his hand.

I peek inside and my eyes fall on Gio across from him. My rage spikes. If I walk in here now, I might take it out on his pathetic, little face.

“I’m going to check the grounds,” I say instead.

Yuri laughs. “This is the
Zappia estate
, little brother. You don’t have to play security here.”

Gio waves his hand. “It’s all right,” he chuckles, bringing his own glass to his mouth. “Muscle does what muscle does. I only wish my own bodyguards were as dedicated as he is.”

I flex my jaw. The last thing I want to hear coming out of Gio’s fucking mouth is a goddamn compliment. “I’ll be back soon,” I say forcing a smile.

I don’t wait for a reply. I walk on down the hallway until I can no longer hear Gio’s inane cackle echoing through the corridor behind me.

Lucian Zappia is my son.

What the hell was I thinking?

Chapter 9

Sofia

Luka Lutrova.

Nothing in the world could have prepared me for that. I didn’t even know the Lutrovas were coming to the estate today. If I had known I’d come face-to-face with Luka this afternoon… I probably would have avoided it altogether, to be honest.

But I’m happy I didn’t.

I stare at Lucian in his crib from my rocking chair beside it, unable to pull my eyes off of his face. His thick forehead. The shape of his chin. Every single piece of him. Now that I’ve seen Luka again, it’s more obvious than ever where he really came from.

I’ve imagined it many times before; that inevitable moment when Luka would meet his child. I pictured it differently. In my head, Luka would nod and say hello. He’d recognize him but, as planned, he’d pretend not to. He’d deny everything and go on with his life — as we both agreed.