Deceptive Love: A Dark Mafia Duet (Mackenzie & Volkolv Book 1) Page 10

  I choke on my drink, not expecting Desmond to air out such a thing. “Good on you,” Maeve is obviously proud of his choice of not hiding this from me.

  Fionn Mackenzie looks to me, “I’m sure my son hasn’t told you everything yet, poppet, but let me explain why I told him to act in such a manner.”

  I put my hand up, “It’s quite alright. I’m a Ramirez, I know how this works. You don’t have to explain yourself.”

  “I appreciate your kind words, however I do need to explain. Normally . . . I’m not so crass but I’m afraid time isn’t on our side. You see, poppet, I’m dying and Desmond will be taking over very soon.”

  “Which is why you need a strong political alliance,” I fill in the blanks.

  Fionn nods.

  “How long do you have?”

  “Maybe a year, if we’re lucky.” He explains.

  A heavy feeling sits on my chest and I realize why it’s so important for Desmond to act soon. If he doesn’t, the entire infrastructure his family has built for years could come crumbling down. “Valentin said he’d be back for the boys and me in a month. Although, Desmond doesn’t seem to think that will be happening.” I speak to the room.

  Fionn chuckles, almost in the same way his son does. “No, love. I doubt he’ll be back by then. He’s pissed off multiple people over the last few months. From the rumors I’ve heard Sergei Kolosov has declared war with him as have the Greek Mafia. They’re tired of everything he’s put them through. I’m sure I don’t have to go into detail, but Valentin and Fredrik have killed numerous people.”

  “No, you don’t have to give me the nitty-gritty. So, how will this happen?” I ask.

  Desmond interjects, “We’ll be married quietly by one of our family’s Catholic priests. By the time anyone knows, the ink on our marriage will be dry and no one can do a damn thing about it. I anticipate Valentin won’t be here for months, if not a year. Sergei will be sure to keep him busy for a while. He has entirely too much fun wreaking havoc with other Russians.”

  “What about the boys, Desmond? What will happen to them?”

  “They’ll stay here until their father comes to collect them.” His answer doesn’t settle the fear in my stomach.

  “The boys' mother betrayed her husband because she was fearful. I don’t see a woman putting herself in that much danger, or risking her life unless she wanted to get her children away from the threat. I . . . I feel like I owe it to her to keep them safe, if I can.”

  “What exactly are you suggesting?” Maeve asks. This is quickly turning into a family discussion.

  “That we protect the boys and keep them away from Valentin, if at all possible. I don’t want to give them up without a fight. They might not be my physical children, but I’ve grown fond of them. Honestly, it doesn’t matter if they’re my children or not. This is my decision.” I respond.

  “We won’t be able to keep them here forever, Sofia. Surely, you know that.” Maeve tells me.

  “Maybe not, but we might be able to. We don’t know. We won’t know until it happens, but I’d like to at least try. That is my condition, we try to keep the children safe, and you view me as a partner,” I pause and look to Desmond, “Allow me to reiterate I refuse to be less than you, to be below you. I’ve been below men my entire life and I won’t venture into a marriage where I’m not respected.”

  Maeve giggles, “Oh, sweetheart. We don’t operate that way. I’m just as much in charge as my husband is. Isn’t that right, Fionn?”

  “You mean if you were alive. Well then, yes.” Fionn adds a wink on the end, making a joke about Clodagh being dead. Because in the eyes of the public Clodagh Mackenzie is dead. Now Clodagh is Maeve, and can at least live out the rest of her life in her family home.

  I remember Desmond saying she was living as a prisoner, and she is, but she’s living in the one place she wants to be more than anything else. “Stop being a bloody bastard,” Maeve slaps him on the shoulder, causing both of them to burst into laughter.

  Desmond looks to me with the most serious, promising eyes and nods. “I won’t treat you as if you’re below me, Sofia Ramirez. When we’re married you will be my wife, my equal and my responsibility. I will do everything in my power to protect you and give you the happiest life possible. Now, speaking of that, I think it’s time my mother checks your stitches, is it not?”

  Maeve nods, “Yes, that’d be best. Come along, sweetheart.”

  I rise up from my seat and follow Maeve into Fionn’s study, thinking about how I’ve just agreed to go against two prominent mafia families.

  My own— the Ramirezs, and the Volkolvs.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Sadly, we settle for what we’re used to. Even if what we’re used to is pain

  ~ R. H. Sin

  Sofia

  Every time I’ve been within the walls of this massive study I’ve felt like an outsider, as if I shouldn’t be inside the room. Tonight, I feel much different.

  Going against the Ramirezs and the Volkolvs will be no easy fight, yet a fire lights up within me. In all honesty, I feel some sense of guilt for not being more afraid. I should feel scared, shouldn’t I?

  “You know, you’re a quiet woman, but I can tell your thoughts are running rapidly through that mind of yours. Care to share?” Maeve asks, opening the first aid kit on her husband’s desk. She filters her hands through the box and huffs lightly before going behind Fionn’s desk. I don’t know what she’s looking for, but it’s obvious she’s displeased.

  “Have there ever been times in your life where you thought you’d react differently to a decision you made?” I ask.

  Maeve stops dead in her tracks. All the sounds come to a standstill and she walks out from behind the desk, taking a seat on the corner of it. Her typical flat expression turns into a slight smile and she nods. “More times than I can count. Truthfully, I thought my life would turn out so much different but it didn’t. Hell, I never thought I’d have faked my death. But here I am, living this . . . life with the people who mean more to me than anything else.”

  “Why did you, fake your death I mean?” My curiosity gets the best of me. I probably shouldn’t have asked this question because it’s so invasive.

  “You should know the answer, Sofia. It’s because I didn’t have a choice. Enemies in our family's line of work never stop. It’s best to make them believe they’ve won, even if they haven’t. While they celebrate what they believe is success, we’re the ones plotting while they’re too busy getting drunk. Now, what’re you jabbering on about?”

  I suck in a deep breath, meeting my eyes to hers, knowing she’s about the only person in this house who will understand. “I thought I might feel differently about agreeing to marry your son. I figured I’d be terrified to make this decision, to essentially declare war.”

  Maeve chuckles lowly, giving a nod. “Yes, I’m sure you did. The thing is, Sofia. Oh you dear child, you’ve always had men making decisions for you. It’s happened your entire life. You thought you’d feel so scared to defy your father, but the freedom of making that decision was so much sweeter to you. You’re but a wild horse.”

  “I’m sorry, what?” I don’t understand what she’s trying to say.

  “It’s an old saying my mother told me about some women. We’re but wild horses that can never be broken. Before I married Fionn, I had a choice to marry another. I didn’t know what to do, so she asked me if I wanted to be broken.”

  “What did you tell her?”

  Maeve laughs, “I said no— and then she told me how the McLaughlin boy would beat down my spirit until he broke me. You see, I wasn’t from a family like the one I married into. I was simply a socialite of my time. I met Fionn one night at a party in Dublin, and while I wasn’t betrothed to another I always felt like my father wanted me to marry Edward McLaughlin. His father was a family friend, so I partied and enjoyed my younger years, figuring my life was mapped out for me. Then, life took me by surprise and threw Fionn in my face
. It felt . . . like fate, like I was being ripped from a mediocre reality into something entirely more exciting. I must admit, exciting is an understatement.”

  “Thank you for sharing this story with me.”

  “I only hope it helps give you some sense of peace. Sofia, you must trust in yourself, in what your gut tells you. If you’ve agreed to marry my son it’s either because deep inside you, you know it’s the best thing to do, or because you feel cornered into making the decision. I for one hope it’s because you trust him.”

  “It’s a bit of both, oddly enough.”

  “Why do you say that?” She questions.

  “Doesn’t it seem risky to trust someone you barely know?”

  Maeve shakes her head, “No, love. It isn’t. I felt the same way with his father. It was . . . enthralling, yet calming.”

  “Can I ask you an invasive question, if you don’t mind?”

  Maeve nods, grabbing something she had set on the desk before sitting on the corner. “Go ahead,”

  “There was a girl in your family portrait. What happened to her?”

  Maeve’s expression shifts to something sad, almost like grief but not quite. “That’s our daughter, Cara. She’s alive, living in Northern Ireland. She . . . made a choice to leave the family and everything we stand for. You see, Cara didn’t want to be involved or affiliated in any way with her father’s business ventures. To know that violence and other matters are something we’re constantly involved in was crushing her. Well, that, and a boy of course. One her father wasn’t fond of. He, in a very hot-headed moment gave her an ultimatum.”

  “The family or her love,” I fill in the blanks.

  Maeve nods, “Yes, and you can see who she chose.”

  “So, she doesn’t come to visit you given how your life is confined?”

  “No, Sofia. Cara doesn’t even know I’m alive. She believes I’m dead just like the rest of the general population. The girl didn’t even show up to my fake funeral. At least, that’s what I heard from my husband and son. I even asked some of our bodyguards and they told me the same thing.”

  “Oh god, I’m so sorry.”

  “No, don’t be. It would be tragic if I was actually dead,” Maeve starts to laugh, forcing a contagious smile on me. One thing’s for certain, even in the direst of circumstances or discussions, this family can cause you to let loose and laugh. “Now, let’s take a look at those stitches. I found some gauze hidden away in my husband's desk, so it should help just a tad. Now, will you take any pain medication, Sofia?”

  “No, I’m not going to.” I clearly state.

  “Alright, well, let’s get on with it. I want you to be right as rain soon. You have a wedding to prepare for.” Maeve might not realize it, but I see a glint in her eyes. It’s not false happiness, but she’s genuinely hoping for the best.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  The key is this: meet today’s problems with today’s strength. Don’t start tackling tomorrow’s problems until tomorrow. You do not have tomorrow’s strength yet. You simply have enough for today.

  ~ Max Lucado

  Desmond

  A week has passed since Sofia agreed to marry me, and little does she know, but today we’ll be exchanging vows in front of God, unifying us until the end of our days.

  She and my mother have been keeping to themselves, planning what they can from our parlor. I heard them mumbling about having some sort of nut flavored cake. Sofia assured her it was normal in Mexico, but I think my bride-to-be forgets that she isn’t in Mexico anymore. We’re a bland type of people, but I’m sure my mother will do whatever is in her power to ensure she gets what she wants.

  Every woman deserves the wedding of her dreams and I know Sofia will never get that opportunity. We need to keep this small and quiet for the sake of saving our heads. I can only hope that my mother has helped with the cake and at least getting Sofia a dress that she adores.

  “Are you prepared for this evening?” My father asks from the corner of the room. I didn’t even see him walk in through the doorway of our second parlor, located in the back of our estate, overlooking the broad scape of our endless acres.

  I hold up my glass of scotch, “As prepared as I will be, I suppose.”

  “You will do fine. Don’t be too nervous, you have done this before after all.” He tries to encourage me, but it does nothing to help. The reminder of being married before only causes a painful feeling to radiate through my gut.

  I turn my neck to him after taking another sip of alcohol, “I’d thought I’d only be doing this once.”

  He nods, “Everyone wishes for that son, but it’s simply not the way life turns out. Speaking of that, I need you to promise me something.” I keep my eyes focused on him, following him as he goes to the doorway and makes sure they’re shut before he comes walking toward me.

  “If you’re closing the doors it must be serious.” I joke, although I should know this is no joking matter.

  “It is. You know I . . . don’t have a very long time left and I need you to promise me you’ll watch over your mother when I’m gone. And I mean, through everything, Desmond. Even if there comes a time where she decides to move on and love another, I need you to urge her to do so. She’s as stubborn as a mule and tells me she won’t ever crave it, but I can’t let her live out her remaining days alone. If . . . if someone comes into this house after I’m gone, and she grows fond of them, tell her of this conversation we’re having, tell her I supported it and wanted her to be happy, even if it is with someone else.” As he continues to speak he chokes on his words a bit, clearing his throat when he’s finished.

  There’s far too much silence filling the room for me to feel comfortable right now. My gut is telling me there’s something he isn’t saying, and my gut has never led me astray. “What aren’t you telling me?”

  He furrows his brows, pinches the bridge of his nose and takes a seat. “Please sit, son. This won’t be easy.”

  I do as he says and sit across from him in an armchair.

  “I went to see my physician this morning. He was able to give me a timeframe of a year, although he failed to specify what my quality of life would be like in the last few months. He didn’t want your mother to hear it and I appreciate that. She doesn’t need to know what it will turn into. So, I need you to do something for me.”

  A sinking feeling hits me. The hairs on my arm and back of my neck stand up, a sure signal that whatever he’s about to say won’t be good.

  “Desmond, six months from now I need your help. I’m going to end my own life and I need you—”

  “What the bloody hell!? Is this a fucking joke?!” I hiss, glaring at him.

  “No, it is—” He starts to speak, but I cut him off again.

  “You can’t be serious. You can’t ask me to do something like . . .” I lose my train of thought and look to the man who raised me. The man who formed me into the man I am today. The one who taught me about strategy and respect and as much as it kills me, I don’t want to lose him. Not a year from now, not six months from now. I’m simply not ready, not when there’s so much more for me to learn.

  “Desmond, you’ll need to help convince your mother this happened naturally. That I simply drifted away in my sleep peacefully.”

  “You want me to lie to her?” I rise from my chair, running my hand through my hair.

  “Only half of it is a lie. I will die peacefully in my sleep. I was able to get a concoction that I’ll take before bed and I simply won’t wake from it. This will be a much better option then what I’ll end up going through if I don’t . . . alter fate a bit so to speak.”

  “I don’t like this.” I state.

  “I didn’t expect you would,” He meets his eyes with my own and stares me down, shrugging his shoulders, “So, will you agree to help me?”

  “I don’t have much of a choice, do I, Father? I either help you and things will be a bit easier on mother, or I don’t help and she’s either left guessing if it was
peaceful, or you end up suffering through your final days with the memories haunting her for the rest of her life.”

  “You’ve always been such a smart boy.” He smiles, but it quickly falters. He’s always so good at keeping what he’s really thinking hidden behind his expression. But for the first time since I was a little boy I can see how terrified he is.

  I’m only left wondering one thing— is he afraid of leaving us, or is he afraid of dying?

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  “You’re not the kind of girl who settles. Keep not settling.”

  ~ Unknown

  Sofia

  I stare in the mirror at my reflection, seeing my tanned skin a few shades paler since the sun hasn’t kissed me in quite a while. My lips are full with a soft peach gloss adorning them, while my eyeliner is thick and my lashes look like something from a porcelain doll. I’ve never been too good at styling hair but I tried, pulling my mixture of black and chocolate brown locks on top of my head in a tall updo.

  I keep my eyes focused on myself, from how put together I look from the shoulders up. A set of pearl earrings is met with a teardrop style diamond necklace Maeve left for me in a box outside of my bedroom this morning.

  Today is the day my entire life will change.

  It’s the day I may or may not have been dreaming of since I was a little girl.

  Today, I get married.

  Today, I take my power back.

  I’m wearing a strapless nude bra with a matching thong, staring in the mirror looking at the beautiful gown Maeve was able to acquire for me. Ivory covers every part of the fabric. With a deep plunging neckline and long sleeves a sort of satin material stops at just above the waist and then a series of see-through chiffon with leaves covers the bottom of the dress.