Brothers Romanoff [MMF]

32

Birth control tasted like mint, and when she took it she tasted mint and the bitterness of remembering her mother, swirling together like orange juice and toothpaste and it lingered on her tongue, not even boiling tea washing it away.

Dinner time arrived, and the Romanoffs entered the house in a flurry. Her eyes narrowed. She never thought of her mother.

Never.

Lev sat at the table, wincing. "We're almost on the other side of this bullshit. Fucking finally."

His eyes strayed to Xiomara who had a look on her face.

Red flag one.

He glanced at Mikhail who raised his brows and shrugged, as if to say he had no clue.

"I've been thinking of my mother," she whispered.

"Oh?" He prompted. She nodded, opening her mouth continue.

Lev's phone rang. He paused and looked at her. She sighed and nodded silently telling him to take it. He did so, taking it to the living room.

"What do you think it is?" Mikhail asked, pouring himself lemonade from the pitcher in the middle of the table.

She shook her head, seeming somewhat disturbed. "I don't know."

"Listen if this is about what I said today, about loving you—"

"We have to go," Lev came back in the room, quickly stalking off. Mikhail followed and once again, Xiomara was alone with her thoughts.

Her mother.
The fire.
Emotions.
Mint.

She stood promptly, the chair falling. The maids rushed in, asking what was wrong. She smiled tentatively. "Can you...get me something?"

• • •

Lev stood at the docks, his hand on his gun. Father Henry held his rifle over his shoulder, the chain around his ankle glinting in the night as they waited the appearance of the final boss.

Sleek shoes made barely a whisper against the dock as the man emerged from the darkness. Lev stepped forward.

"Alessandro Vitale?" Lev called.

The man was finally unsheathed from the darkness his dark, jet black hair almost blending into the night. His cigarette hung from his mouth, his deep tan, almost brown skin, covered completely in his suit and leather gloves.

"That's me," he said simply.

He didn't have an accent. Lev narrowed.

"Lev Romanoff," Lev introduced himself. "We spoke."

Alessandro raised his eyes. "Then let's speak less on formalities. The drugs you provided were adequate."

Lev narrowed his eyes. "Then why are you here?"

Alessandro nodded to the port. "I want it."

Lev's eyes darted over his shoulder. "The ship?"

Alessandro's lips turned up. "The dock. I want it."

Lev chuckled boisterously. "Yeah? We all want things, son. No shame in that."

Alessandro just chuckled and nodded gently. "Hm...we all want things. But we don't all have the power to take them." Alessandro snapped. "Luckily I do."

Lev smirked. "Nepotism rears it's ugly head. Vitale have been expanding for decades. Your grubby little hands are in every port this side of the world. Why this?"

Alessandro puffed out smoke. "Because I want it," he said simply, turning his back. "And I'll have you killed to get it."

Lev glanced back at Mikhail. Mikhail nodded his permission. Lev's eyes gave a glow, as he brandished his knife and gun, crossed over one the other, as the Vitale men stepped forward.

"Too bad. It's ours. And as you know Russians and Italians...don't mix," he grinned. "You're cocky boy. The Vitale have been a ghost story for a long time, a whisper to keep the underground in line."

Mikhail drew his gun, as Father Henry began taking out the front line.

"Do you think you can keep the full might of the Vitale at bay with only 3 men?" Alessandro asked curiously, sitting on the back of of his men, his leg crossed.

Father Henry lined up his shot, taking it. Alessandro noted the bullet whizzing his way, stepping out of the way, as he took another shot.

"Forgive us our sins," Henry murmured, reloading his rifle.

"This ain't the full might of the Vitale," Lev smirked, cutting his way through the ranks, mowing them down. They weren't even an elite force. Then he was the real threat. Lev narrowed his eyes, stoping as he finally got to Alessandro, his knife against his neck.

Alessandro blew out a plume of smoke in Lev's face. His eye twitched.

"I come from a long line of Dons and Donna's. Fear was bred out of me. I am a result of an empire. This? You? Are nothing." Alessandro smiled gently.

Lev smiled back. "Do you bleed?" He edged closer.

Alessandro shrugged. "Scarcely. The Romanoffs. Two Russian lunatics who fuck each other and everything else."

Lev chuckled. "Ah...we've sense closed our relationship. You just missed it."

Alessandro chuckled, meeting Lev's eyes. Lev narrowed his, trying to read him.

It was silent. And then Mikhail's phone rang. No one dared to answer.

"You're testing us?" Lev replied. "These men were weak. I know you have better forces."

"You should get that," Alessandro muttered. "She's upset. Ring."

The phone rang.

"Ring."

Lev edged closer. "What...did you do something to her?"

Alessandro just sighed. "A long line of Vitales with such gifts. I had an ancestor they say who could almost tell the future. I can't say I have any supernatural gifts persay. But I have a very keen...sense. And I sense...you are going to have some regrets soon. I smell it."

Alessandro smiled. "Let's bet something. If by the end of tonight, you want to kill yourself in regret, give me these docks. But if not, I'll give you something—peace. The Vitale will no longer interfere with you."

"I don't take crooked deals. Especially not from Italians."

Alessandro just smiled, pushing the edge of his knife away. "Then let us talk. If we can't come to an agreement I'll come back."

The threat was not silent.

Mikhail looked at the phone but nodded. "We'll see what can be negotiated."

His phone rang incessantly, and so did Lev's off and on into the night, but they could not answer it.

Alessandro's careful eyes watched them, as they began negotiations for the docks.