Chapter 21: Chapter 21

◆ MILES ◆

"Can't take any chances, Maxim."

Alright. Whatever. Mykaela's safety would be at risk if I didn't shove her out of my life.

It would confuse and hurt her, of course, but Ricchar's forethought and cautionary advice made a lot of sense. And I should understand that he was only looking out for me and Kel.

Out of all our cousins, he was the only one whose opinion I respected. The only one I actually liked to be around. The others only saw me as the problem child. The prodigal son.

And some other derogatory adjectives that bordered on offensive and judgmental.

"How do I even tell her about them? About the deal?" I muttered, still unsure of what to do next.

Ricchar scoffed at my question. "You can't. Are you serious right now?"

"Why not?" I frowned. "She'll listen. She'd understand."

"You just can't," Ricchar almost shouted. "What is wrong with you?"

"Charr, she's not dumb or stupid."

"She doesn't need to know anything. She shouldn't. You'll just put her in a very risky situation, but in another country. So cut her loose now, or ask her to be part of the family." He glared at me. "Get it?"

What's that supposed to mean? "Ask her what?"

"Is it sexual?" Ricchar eyed me for a moment, waiting for me to respond and indulge his nosy questioning. "Have you taken it that far?"

How the fuck was that even remotely relevant right now? "You serious?"

"Obviously. Question answered." Ricchar made a flippant gesture with his hand and swore in Italian. "Here I thought you two haven't even made out."

I wanted to roll my eyes. Seriously? This borderline suicidal drunk just had to choose this night to voice his shitty side comments about my...

"Now I know why your Mamma wanted to drive you both to the nearest church first second you got here." Ricchar grinned and shook his head. "Listen. I admit we're a bunch of annoying, self-righteous, often horny dudes. But don't forget we're still really Catholic."

"If you must know..." I let out a loud sigh. "I don't wanna make out with her nor do I want to take her to church, if that's what you're implying."

"Bambino, stop lying to yourself."

"Shut up." In resignation, I avoided his accusing squint. Frantic thoughts of revenge finally stopped rushing into my head. But it still ached like someone repeatedly slammed it onto a concrete wall.

"I know you weren't just pretending, because you wanted to impress your Mamma and Pappa."

"What? I wasn't tryna—"

"Been watching you two." Ricchar's frown drew slight wrinkles on his scruffy face. "Stop convincing me there's nothing going on. You're a terrible liar, and she's even worse."

I didn't react when he laughed. My brain couldn't help double-screening what he just said. I hated lies, liars, and lying. But, every time I thought of Mykaela and the way our relationship had progressed...

In a nutshell, I just couldn't imagine not seeing her for a long time. Spending every waking day with her had become a routine. Practically a necessity in a way. I didn't like the consequences it presented, but...I also didn't like thinking of her living in New York again, only seeing her once in a few years because she wanted to be far away, too busy living her own life.

"You're worried she'd hate you for pushing her away?" Ricchar asked with a raised brow. "You should just try working for the family then. Keep busy."

Work for the company? Funny.

"Your parents would love that. As for Mykaela, she'll get to focus on her career because you're out of the picture."

"I'm not working for you guys. 'Cause I don't have to." It was out of the question. I didn't want the responsibility and nor did I need the job.

"For now, sure. You can say no," Ricchar droned on. "But you know your Pappa."

"Oh. Let me mull over it, then," I replied with dripping sarcasm.

"Stop it. Listen up."

Ah shit. What now?

"We're cooking something up with Leandro Tomassini."

Cooking? Did he mean illicit drugs? "Who's Leandro?"

"Lorenzio's brother. He's got a new lab and connections everywhere. They got a dozen chemists now, I heard." Ricchar grabbed the wine bottle. "It's a new one. Not as dangerous as meth or heroin."

"Are you fucking high?"

"Can't mess around with fentanyl. We want to keep our customers alive, obviously."

As my nails dug into my palm, I faked a straight face. I glared when he didn't flinch.

Was he talking me into being a drug dealer now? Stupid drunk. What the actual fuck's wrong with these people...

I shook my head and looked away. "You're impossible."

"His chemists say it's just like...taking vitamins or painkillers. It's more of an opioid, I assume."

"Fuck no. Not gonna happen." I chuckled. I had enough life-derailing addictions to deal with on a regular basis.

"Hey. I'm not saying you have to—"

"I'm fine painting mediocre art for a living. Get over it."

"Be serious, Maxim." Ricchar sighed. "You can't do that forever. You need steady income."

"You mean drug money?"

"No. What I mean is... You're not getting any younger, and Zio is cutting off your support. To teach you a lesson or something."

"I'll survive. Worry about your problems." I grinned to myself. If he didn't shut up now, I'd elope with Mykaela first thing just to keep her away from the ride-or-die mafia life my family had chosen for themselves. "I won't ask her to stay; it's her life. Her choice. Piss off."

"You still don't get it, do you?" Ricchar scrunched his brows and smirked.

"What d'you want me to do? Force her to marry me? Are you fuckin' insane?"

"Alright. Let's be real here. If she goes back home, leave her be. You want her to have a normal life?" Ricchar stared at me. "Sever all ties. For good. No texts, calls, emails. Can you do that?"

"Bullshit." I forced a laugh. If I had a swear jar right now... "That's just—"

"You dragged her into this mess. Stop pretending."

Fine. I blamed myself, too. But it wasn't too late to—

"You get it now?" Ricchar scoffed and gestured to the backdoor. "She's still in there trying to keep Lorenzio alive."

"That's just how she is. Thinks she can fix everything," I mumbled, looking away. Of course Mykaela was still tending to that guy's injuries, just playing the dutiful doctor. I should be helping her right now, but I didn't know jackshit about first aid or emergency surgeries.

"They're looking to hire freshies to join their medical staff."

I scowled at my cousin. "What?"

"Leandro just called, asked me if I know anyone at the local hospital."

"Why call you?"

"You know how much hush money they pay their surgeons?" Ricchar eyed me, as if I had a clue. "For them to keep cutting open and stitching up drug mules? Prescription fraud? You'd be surprised."

Cutting up drug mules? Shit. That didn't sound impossible. That clan most likely had doctors on their payroll committing fraud every single day.

As my hands clenched into fists, my chest and gut churned.

Mykaela working for a mafia family...

No fucking way. I'd rather she forget her dreams of becoming a doctor than let her end up working for a bunch of crime-loving sociopaths. "That's not gonna happen."

"Deny it all you want. She's involved now. Front and center. When Leandro finds out about her, and what she did for his brother, you better pray she's already in New York then." Ricchar pulled a face when I just sat still.

"You're gonna talk to his family?"

"I just did," he sighed. "So make a choice. Right now. Let her go back home and forget about you, or just marry her. There's no in-between."

What the shit? Ask her to marry me? Would she even consider being involved in that kind of shitshow?

As if marrying me would be the easier way out of this nightmare I dragged her into. "And you just expect me to talk her into it? Are you kidding or just outta your mind?"

Ricchar grinned weakly, carelessly pouring himself another glass of wine. "Why don't you just ask her?"

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