14. Alfie

14

ALFIE

R ather than sitting up in the posh seats of the clubhouse, I knew that Nina would want to be in the thick of the excitement. The “cheap seats” standing near the railing would leave us too exposed, so I reserved box seats for us in the grandstand instead. I can’t help but chuckle as Nina bounces excitedly in her chair, binoculars clasped firmly in one hand as we settle in to wait for Cosmic Fate’s race to start. My sister peers down at the racetrack with a single-minded focus. She’s determined not to miss a thing, and it’s hard not to smile when she’s brimming with such joy—joy that I brought her.

Nina doesn’t get out of the house as often as I wish she could. Most of the time, I just can’t rationalize the risk. She’s exceptionally vulnerable—not only is she my sister, which makes her a target for my enemies, but Nina wouldn’t hear danger coming, which leaves her far more defenseless than even the average mafia princess. When we were growing up, my father stressed the importance of “hiding Nina’s handicap” because he was even more paranoid than I am about who might take advantage of it. So, few people outside our household know my sister is deaf—if they even know I have a sister.

Nina surprised me when she was so adamant about meeting Mika today. I suspect she wanted to meet the horses just as much, but my sister made me take her to the barn as soon as she found out Mika was the trainer caring for her new horses. I didn’t see the harm in it. Now that Nina knows about her present, I’m sure she’ll visit the barn upstate often. I wouldn’t be able to keep her condition a secret from Mika or the hands much longer, and the racing stable is a world away from the danger in New York City. I doubt any gossip that starts there would make it down to our enemies, and one day at Saratoga won’t be too risky. I still tripled our protection for the day, though, because I don’t like taking chances when it comes to my sister.

Today is a rare treat for her, and from the looks of it, I’d say I found just the right surprise. The horses haven’t even reached the field yet, but Nina’s watching with rapt attention, ready for the first signs of life. In her colorful ankle-length dress and wide-brimmed summer hat, she looks the part. I love the fact that she guessed her surprise as soon as I gave her the hat. Well, I amend as I watch her animated expression, she guessed that we were going to the racetrack. But when I told her some of the horses we would be watching today were already hers, she lost her mind. My sister rarely shrieks, but that’s the only way I can describe the sound she made when I told her. Just thinking about it now makes me chuckle.

She needed this—and honestly, I did, too. It’s nice to take a day for myself. I’ve had my hands full managing the Russians.

Nikolai still hasn’t made a move against me yet. But receiving Eddie Thoreau’s head in a box wasn’t the last warning I got, and they’re starting to escalate. Nikolai has closed off his borders, refusing to let my men into any of his clubs. I found that out after he sent one of my men back to me with the top of his left ear chilling in a bag of ice. Nikolai sent him with the message that the next attempt to abuse his hospitality before I made things right would end with an amputation that couldn’t be sewn back on. If the growing hostilities along our border are any indication, they will eventually transition from threats to conflict. I can feel it coming, and when it does, I want to be ready. That’s why I’ve been working every waking hour since the night Nikolai stormed out of my house last week, and it feels good to take a break. The fresh air and sunshine help put me at ease—and Nina always brightens my mood.

My sister reaches over to pat my chest frantically, capturing my attention to let me know that something exciting is about to happen. I chuckle again as she points urgently toward the track. A steady procession of horses exits the tree-lined paddock, making their way toward the starting gates.

The young Thoroughbreds dance across dirt, their jockeys posting rhythmically in and out of the saddle to absorb the shock of their animals’ bouncing strides. A hum of anticipation electrifies the air as spectators catch on to the action on the field. The raucous noise from the crowd softens to a consistent murmur. The hair on my arms stands on end as I’m swept up by the thrilling atmosphere, and I can see why people come to watch the races. The suspense is as powerful as a double shot of espresso hitting the bloodstream.

It’s easy to identify Cosmic Fate in the group. Her copper coat shines like a new penny, making her rider’s blue-and-gold silks stand out. She’s almost dressy in her white tack as she prances across the ground, her neck arched with barely contained enthusiasm. She looks ready. Her jockey and the palomino track pony accompanying her down the track holds her back, but the red filly already looks fast. Hopefully, now that I don’t have Mika to steal my attention, I can focus on the horse this time. Despite my numerous visits to the barn I bought, I’ve never actually watched Fate run.

They reach the starting gates and start to load. It’s not hard to make out the different horses’ personalities as they do—some hesitant and nervous, others unruly and impatient to get going. I can spot which horses need more training on how to load when they get halfway into the bay and start to panic or freeze up.

Cosmic Fate loads effortlessly, following her tan-faced middle-aged guide into the starting gate as if she’s eager to get underway. She’s the second-to-last horse to load, putting her at a disadvantage on the outside, and I wonder how she’ll handle that. Leaning forward, I brace my elbows against my knees as a thrill races through me. I hadn’t expected that I would be excited to see how our new filly does, but my pulse starts to pound as my adrenaline spikes.

A bell trills, and the starting gate buzzes as the doors fly open, releasing the young Thoroughbreds all at once. In a flash, they’re off, sprinting down the field at a neck-breaking pace. Nina gasps beside me and shuffles to the edge of her seat, her binoculars pressed firmly to her face. With bated breath, I find Cosmic Fate, and my heart does a somersault. Despite her starting position near the outer edge, she left the gates with such speed that she’s already halfway to the inner track—and just a few lengths behind two horses fighting for the lead. It’s a perfect spot, free from the scramble of the pack, but she’s not setting the pace up front.

And the way she moves…

I’ve never seen anything quite like it. Where the other horses hammer against the ground, a thunder of power and speed as they sprint across the track, Mika’s red filly looks like she’s floating across the dirt. Each casual stride looks nearly twice the length of the horses behind her. She stretches and snaps like a rubber band, her athletic movement so natural she makes the incredible speed look effortless.

The rumbling herd rounds the far bend, and for one sightless stretch, my heart pounds as I follow their progress, unable to make out the red filly we’re rooting for. Then, in a flash, she reappears. Fate’s gaining. She’s not quite on the rail—the horses in first and second are warring for that coveted position—but she doesn’t seem concerned. She swings just wide of them, staying out of their tussle as they round the near turn.

When she hits the long stretch, she changes leads, and then she really lets loose.

“Go-go-go-go-go!” Nina shouts beside me, so overcome with excitement that she’s not even thinking about the instinct to use her voice.

I can’t help but join in, cheering as Fate unleashes an incredible burst of speed—and practically takes flight. I see the moment her jockey gives her full rein because Fate’s lengthy stride nearly doubles in an instant. She must have been holding back before, because the fiery chestnut eats up the ground beneath her. In four long strides, she’s neck and neck with the front-runners. I could almost swear she glances to her left—as if to smirk at her inferior opponents. And then she’s gone, blasting a full length ahead—then two—before she crosses the finish line all alone.

Nina screams, jumping from her chair and turning to me as she bounces with excitement. Laughing, I sweep her up off her feet and spin her around, celebrating right along with her. Overhead, the announcer calls it, confirming that Cosmic Fate took first place by just under three horse lengths.

“We have to go down to the track to celebrate,” Nina demands as soon as I set her down.

She looks up at me with such wide-eyed intensity, I don’t see how I’m supposed to say no. I’ve created a monster, but I don’t even care. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen my sister this excited, and I love it. Wrapping a protective arm around her waist, I signal Vincent and Marco, who jump into action. Our security team is in place in moments, and we make our way through the jubilant crowd and down the stairs toward the winner’s circle.

Fate and her jockey are already there, pacing an energetic circle as the groom who was tacking her up earlier keeps pace beside them. He sponges the filly’s coat, removing the dirt and grit from her chest and legs so she’ll be picture-ready. Mika’s there, too, and as the jockey reins in her excited mount, the trainer claps her on the knee, speaking to the young woman in a low voice. Intense emotion radiates from Mika, making my chest tighten when I see her wide, symmetrical smile in person for the first time. It’s so strikingly authentic, so genuinely filled with joy that it makes me stagger. Fate seems to feel it, too, and curves her neck around to nudge Mika’s shoulder—demanding her attention as she shares in the victory.

Mika turns to the horse and runs her hands affectionately up the horse’s long nose and over her eyes in a calming gesture. The moment is filled with such emotion that, even as her eyes lock with mine, Mika keeps smiling. Nina and I approach the group, and then the trainer is hugging my sister—or Nina’s hugging her. I’m not quite sure who initiated it. But when Nina turns to give Fate some much-deserved praise, leaving Mika open, I don’t hesitate. Stepping in to fill the space my sister left, I pull Mika into my arms. To my surprise, she doesn’t pull back. Instead, she laughs, her arms wrapping around my shoulders as she hugs me.

The smell of strawberries fills my nose—the scent of Mika’s shampoo. She’s wearing it up in her typical messy bun, but I have the intense urge to take it out of its tie and bury my nose in her thick head of curls. Warm anticipation surges through my veins. Now that I’ve broken off my engagement, Mika will be mine, and the ache of my desire is almost painful after a week of not seeing her. I can’t wait to get her alone.

“Congratulations!” I call over the noisy crowd.

“You too!” Mika says, her straight white teeth starkly contrasting her golden tan.

I set her back on her feet, letting my arms linger around her waist longer than necessary. Attraction crackles between us, and again, for just a moment, Mika seems to lean into it. Heat flashes in her eyes, but before she can say anything, the cameraman arrives. He steps in, positioning us for our victory picture, and while Mika ends up at Fate’s nose, Nina right beside her, I stand near Fate’s sweaty flank. After a bright flash, we’re sent on our way. It’s time for the next race.

As a unit, we make our way off the track, Fate leading the way, Mika close to her reins as Nina and I stay off to the side a short distance. My men form a loose circle around us, deterring anyone who tries to approach. But as we reach the corridor leading off the track and step out of the sunshine into the darkened tunnel, several looming figures step out of the shadows.

It takes less than a moment to recognize the burly forms of Nikolai and Dominik Kapranov. Their unusual size and Dominik’s wild head of auburn hair would stand out anywhere. Today, they’re surrounded by a contingent of guards, all just as hulking and menacing as the two Bratva leaders.

Standing between the two men is a woman who I can only describe as a life-sized imitation of a porcelain doll. She looks like she can’t be more than twenty, and she’s stunning in a navy polka-dot cocktail pencil dress that emphasizes her petite curves before stopping just below her knees. Her ivory skin is flawless beneath her cheekily slanted blue derby hat. Diamond-studded pearl earrings frame her prominent cheekbones, calling attention to her pouting crimson lips. She might just be the most stylish woman I’ve ever seen, with delicate lace gloves and nude patent-leather pumps that pull her outfit together in the perfect blend of retro chic. Her auburn hair, twisted into an intricate chignon at the nape of her neck, and her blue eyes are no less striking, and I realize with a jolt that this must be Ana Kapranov—the woman I was supposed to marry.

“Congratulations on your win, Alfie,” Nikolai says flatly, his voice devoid of sincerity as he blocks our path.

The victory of our win evaporates as the corridor turns icy. My back stiffens as our entourage comes to a stop in front of the wall of Russians. My men shift restlessly around me, preparing for a fight, and I give a subtle gesture to keep them in place.

“Thank you, Nikolai. I hadn’t realized you follow Thoroughbred racing. You didn’t mention it during our previous meetings. Did you have a horse in the race?”

“Not today.” The undercurrent turns menacing as his eyes land on Cosmic Fate.

The young filly dances impatiently beside Mika, growing restless as she picks up on the dangerous energy.

“We could be in the market, though,” he adds pointedly, openly appraising the horse.

My gut tightens as his eyes trail over Mika next, lingering on her breasts; then, as if he senses my tension, he looks at me with cool understanding.

“Oh, Alfie. I don’t think you’ve met my daughter yet, have you? This is Ana,” Nikolai says, placing his palm on the small of Ana’s petite back and guiding her forward a step. “Ana, this is Alfie Bonetti, the man you were supposed to marry next week.”

“Supposed to?” Mika asks, and all eyes snap to her.

Color infuses her golden cheeks as her beautiful green-blue eyes find mine. Ana might be stunning by any man’s standards, but when Mika looks at me, my heart stops momentarily. She affects me in ways no other woman has before, and I’m intensely aware of that after finally laying eyes on my ex-fiancée.

“I called it off,” I say succinctly, tension vibrating through my body. Then, I turn my attention back to the lovely young woman who was supposed to be my bride. “It’s an honor to finally meet you, Ana. The rumors of your beauty hardly do you justice.” The wording feels wooden and formal, but if I don’t tread lightly, this could be the moment I go to war with the Russians.