Chapter 7

Seven

Aster

H alf an hour later, I walk into my family's home to find twenty-seven candles set into perfectly fluffed snow-white icing.

Acid rolls and swashes in my stomach. I hate birthdays with a passion.

I lean in and smell the sugary sweetness.

But I love cake.

I check behind me before I swipe a finger full of buttery cream from the base. A little thing I've done since I can remember. To a six-year-old, her life started and ended with cake. Or at least mine did. Now, it does nothing to ease the burn of hurt left on my heart by way too many ruined birthdays.

I sigh heavily. This family drains me of my sanity.

A little of the heat of my anger faded on my drive to my parents' mansion. I'm not angry now. A little nod toward that therapy bill.

What I am now is livid. What a catastrophic mistake to think Harlon would be open-minded enough to see me as an asset instead of a little girl wanting a seat at the big people's table.

My godfathers didn't think I could handle their kind of lifestyle, and now Harlon wants to hold me back.

Fuck him and everyone else.

My heart hurts to admit it, but I don't know where else I fit in here. I can't be here anymore. Not and find what I am looking for. I don't want to hurt anyone, but when do I get to be happy? Or will my life be forever tied to theirs?

I don't have many answers. But I know I won't find it in these glittery boxes filled with expensive gifts from my father's minions. They are only looking to remain in his good grace. I lift a tag and sure enough, the family lawyer has done his duty to leave the boss' daughter a present for her birthday.

I lift my gaze and stare around the room, sick to my stomach.

Expensive flower arrangements and copious amounts of pink balloons line the entire formal dining room. Gleaming silver cutlery, fine china and a few bottles of chilled champagne fill the leftover spaces.

Overhead hangs a pretty mauve pink birthday banner with my name splashed on it in bone white. It's the same every year. Of course, it's my mother's handy work. All of this is my mother's work, in fact. Like every year, all this effort is not for my benefit. It's for the guests set to arrive in an hour. The spectacle they'll put on to show off their wealth and power. This level of glam took hours to set up and requires help.

Come to think of it…

I turn in a slow circle and find no one. Where is all the help? The family security team—my father's personal team of hired thugs?

Something is wrong. I can feel it. On my way in, hadn't I noticed the outside lights turned off? They are never off. Morning, noon and night, the twin sconces on either side of the front entrance are always shining.

Partly because no one can remember to turn them off. But mainly as a sign that everyone is welcome in the Constantine home if they can get past the security gate and armed guards.

Who are nowhere to be seen.

I walk through the downstairs, flicking on lights as I go. The sun will set soon and the long shadows feeding through the massive floor-to-ceiling windows creep me out.

My thrashing heartbeat tries to tell my brain everything is cool, but the rush of adrenaline spilling into my blood isn't helping.

"I'm just jumpy, that's all." My job has me jittery with all the bad guys and Russians wanting to play sex games with loaded guns. It's probably a surprise party. My mother is always trying to come up with new ways to add some excitement to her life. Mostly at the expense of others.

"Hellooo. Anyone here?"

Nothing.

My pulse hammers in my ears and every muscle in my body tenses.

Nothing. Not even hushed whispers. I walk from the empty dining to the large kitchen when I finally hear shuffling or maybe muffled talking coming from the direction of the living room. So that is where everyone is hiding. The soft leather of my soles masks my presence as I make my way to the rear of the mansion.

A long hall stretches out in front of me, ending in a large archway and a gorgeous living room my mother uses for receiving guests.

I am almost at the end of the hallway when a large shadow moves across the yawning gap.

Whoa. That is not one of my brothers or my father.

My feet turn to lead, and I stop in my tracks. It's not the hulking mass of a man that has me going still. Don't get me wrong. He's scary as hell. It's the chair he is dragging behind him and the body tied to it.

What the holy hell? Air seizes in my lungs. I don't scare easily, but seeing my mother bleeding and defenseless has me questioning why I never carry a loaded gun.

Someone out of sight draws the large curtains and the shadows grow deeper in the living room. But where I stand, everything turns pitch black. It's a design flaw my parents hate about this small space, but for once, I use the deep shadows to my benefit and melt against the wall.

Do they know I'm here? I parked on the south side, hoping for a fast getaway once I dropped the bomb of leaving town after I blew the birthday candles out.

I risk taking my phone out and pulling up my cousin's number. I kill the brightness level. One ring and he picks up.

"What?" I hear my cousin's muffled voice, but I can't talk. I can't say a word. My brain is frozen as I hear someone with a deep Russian accent speak just outside my line of sight.

I know that voice.

"Did you not like your cake?" Harlon sounds distant, like he's put me on speaker.

"Unicorn," I whisper my secret panic word. "Someone's in the house."

" ?Diablos! ? Quien ?" Damn! Who?

Santi.

"Big fucking Russians and they don't?—"

"It's going down."

Cassius cuts me off, but he's not speaking to me.

Confusion drags my brows from a scowl into a shocked look halfway up my forehead. "What?" I hiss. What the hell is going on here? Did they know about this…this whatever it is?"

But I don't get answers. A man speaks from the living room and I hold my phone out so Harlon and his men can hear.

"I don't enjoy repeating myself. Your wife must like it rough to not give me what I want."

I hear gagged groans and my heart falls to the floor.

"All you had to do was come to me. You don't need to involve her. She's weak, but fiercely protective of the slut she birthed."

My father.

"Either way, I'm here and I need the debt you owe me paid."

"And you want Constantine blood as payment. You always wanted what belonged to me."

My father is stating a fact, not asking.

"Money or blood. Your choice Constantine. Give me Aster or give me the keys to the Constantine fortune."

What the hell is my father into?

There's a gurgle followed by a heavy cough.

Mom.

My hand moves to my blade, but it's not where I normally keep it on my waist. Santi took it back at Club Genesis. Shit.

"I can practically hear your gears turning. Don't even think about it. Hold tight, Aster. Are you in a safe place?"

Harlon must sense my urge to go to my mother. She is a lot of things but still my mom.

"It doesn't matter. They are hurting her." I answer in a harsh whisper through the speaker. "Safe? No. I have a wall at my back and not much else.

Santi releases a string of Spanish profanity. A few I know by heart and the new ones I file away.

"Stay where you are at. We're on our way."

My father's rough baritone fills the silence. "That filth is damaged goods. I had men I considered friends who wanted what was mine, too. I fucked her to ruin me. I had plans on using her to marry into the Volkov family. But you can have her. But not my empire."

My father pauses. Probably visualizing passing me off.

"She's yours, but I want you out of my territory for good. Every single one of you out and you never come back, Romanov. Especially if you find her virginity intact."

Cold steel drives into my heart. I knew he resented me. Hated me even, but hearing it again reopens old wounds that never fully healed.

A lumbering shadow passes in front of the archway. I plaster myself tighter against the wall. Romanov? As in from Genesis? Nah . My head scrambles to piece all this together.

Then again, how many mobsters named Romanov are there in Chicago?

"I don't want a whore. But my boy needs a broodmare, and the hips he's seen on her will do well in carrying Romanov blood."

My eyes widen, and it takes a moment for my brain to register the words. Bile rises in the back of my throat for several reasons I don't have time to list out.

The silence becomes a coffin around me as my mind races for a plan to save my mother without getting us both killed. Screw my father. I know my brothers look down on me as the cute little pixie they have to protect, but I really could use six guys on my side right now.

A stiff hand clenches around my arm, and I am hauled out of the shadows. Asshole number one with grabby hands throws me through the living room's archway and I land on my knees.

Hard.

Every bone in my body screams in protest, and I tumble awkwardly before letting the momentum take over. I roll, turn, and get my footing before I launch to my feet.

I get halfway up before I am shoved back down by another set of hands on my shoulders. I turn my chin to find familiar brown eyes and a too-small leather vest stretched over a crisp white shirt.

"Joseph," I seethe, my voice rough with disbelief.

He cants his head, causing dark hair to fall over his forehead. " Da, moy malen'kiy pitomets. " My little pet.

Fuck that and fuck him. I take in the rest of the thugs stinking up the room in one go. An older version of Joseph is leaning an elbow on the mantel, looking pretty happy with himself in a flashy suit and goatee.

Fat fingers dig into my shoulders and pin me to the floor between Junior's legs. Like this, I'm sitting on my haunches and look no different than a good bitch being put in her place.

And it pisses me off.

"You should have taken up my offer for night at the Society. Now we do this hard way."

"You would have to make me a corpse before I let you anywhere near my body."

Dark eyes turn into raging slits as he looks down at me. " Da , whore?"

" Da, and it's whore with a W. Not a V, dumbass."

I know I'm being petty, but I like the way his face turns blistering red with anger.

Cement knuckles connect with my left cheek, sending me flying across the polished marble.

Lights flash behind my eyelids and I take a second to peel my lashes open from the pain going off in my skull. When I do, pitch black fills the room.

Now what?

Did someone cut the lights? Muzzle flashes from the far left tell me to hit the ground and it fast forwards from there.

Glass shatters, followed by heavy grunts. Bullets hit anything in their path. Years of living here give me the advantage I need to dash for the nearest exit. And I almost get away before a set of meaty fingers grabs my hair.

"Argh!" I roar and then face plant into hard muscle. I'm yanked again and this time I stumble back, only to find myself hauled over a broad shoulder.

" Poshli, moy malen'kiy pitomets. " Let's go, little pet.

"Oh, no you don't, asshole!" Feet and hands fly. But thugs like it when you fight and this one is laughing like he's gonna have fun with me tonight.

To hell with that!

Bodies and bullets hit the surrounding floor. I catch the sight of Harlon and Cassius taking as good as they are giving. Which means they will not get to me before I am stuffed in a trunk.

"Look," I say, trying to reason with Joseph, but he's not having it.

I go to grab a tall copper vase but he's fast on his feet and so is his goon squad right behind us. They shuffle me out the same door I came in while the fight continues in the darkness of my parents' home.

Rearing back with my elbow well aimed, I come down on Joseph's collarbone at just the right angle to have him dropping me to the gravel.

"Umph." It's more of a painful sound than an actual word.

Eating rocks is about as fun as it sounds. I push to my feet and ball my fist, ready to dick punch some fuckers when Harlon's bellow sends me face planting.

"Now, Aster!"

I hit the ground. Bullets fly, but given the lack of light, I don't think Harlon hits his target.

Glass shatters and my cousin comes out of the front entrance, probably ready to send souls to hell.

Fists meet flesh. It's three against one until Cassius and Santi round the side of the house, bloodied but looking ready to murder.

Grabby hands fist my hair from behind and I am dragged across the gravel entrance.

"This is getting really tiresome." I rear back and kick the dude trying to shove me into the trunk of a Beamer in the face and feel pride in being able to wear wedged boots and kick ass at the same time.

Cassius is across the gravel and helping me to my feet when Santi turns me around and shoves a set of keys in my hands.

"You need to get out of here until we settle this problem."

"Fine. I'll go with Polaris."

"No. You need to get out of town."

"What? I'm not running." Where the hell would I even go?

A bullet pings off the side of a car, narrowly missing me and I drop to my knees. "Where are all these assholes coming from? You drop one, more spring up!"

I am moved to Cassius' Ghost and shoved into the back seat. A driver is in the front looking like he sits through shootouts all the time.

Harlon comes over and Santi covers his back, popping off a few rounds toward Joseph, who uses my father's Jaguar as a shield.

Harlon grabs my chin. "Listen up. The Romanov family isn't going to take nicely to this slight from us. They like to kill what they can't have and this isn't the first time they've wanted a Constantine."

It hits me. "The Romanov father and my mother?"

Harlon nods. "He lost her to your father after a game of cards, and now he wants you for his son."

"Sick."

"They have deep pockets and friends in low places. This is why you need to leave. Find your godfathers and go to them. They are about the only ones I can trust with your life."

"No," I say flatly and the pain burrowing into my chest slams harshly against the shields I've built around my heart.

Harlon is already speaking over me before I can tell him to think up a better plan because I am not going to them.

"I've already called."

"They aren't even in the country."

Harlon leans over me and fastens my seatbelt. He turns to the driver. "Take her to our private hangar and see to it she gets on the fucking plane."

"They will turn me away the second I get there."

Harlon turns his face into mine and deadpans, "Make sure they don't."

"No," I blurt out, shaking my head furiously. I fumble with the release of my seatbelt, but the damn thing won't release.

"I'm sorry it's come to this. I am. I should have never let you work at the club, but what is done is done."

"The club had nothing to do with this. My father hates me and I'm the pawn in the middle."

"He does and he will pay for his crimes against you. I'm sorry i didn't step in sooner."

"You know?"

It suddenly clicks, and I change course. "You knew this was gonna happen, didn't you?"

"Romanov? I did. I might have let it happen to draw the Romanov elder out of hiding. Yes."

"You used me? You put me on display as the club greeter knowing the history between the Romanovs and our family? You knew they would want a war."

"I knew it when Joseph couldn't get you to take him up on his lovely offers. It was just a matter of time. I thought they would come for the club. But they came here instead."

"I can't believe you."

He gives a small shrug that says a lot. "I keep a lot of secrets in case you forgot."

He's talking about my addiction to my godfathers and the fact he helped me find them when they didn't want to be found. He didn't know the depths of why or all the story. He didn't ask a lot of questions, so I didn't offer answers.

Apparently he didn't ask because he already knew.

"When this is over, I'm coming for you. Blood or not, Harlon."

He slams the door in my face. Oh, no he doesn't.

"I trusted you. I guess that was my mistake."

"You can slice my balls off and kick me in the dick another day. If you live that long. Now go!"

"I can't believe you wanted this to happen."

"It helped me draw out an enemy," Harlon admits, like I'm only a canary in a cage to him.

What a bastard. But a smart move.

It's hard to believe a life can shatter and become so utterly irreparable in an instant twice in one lifetime. No, make that three times.

But mine has.