Chapter 108: Luxury Introduction
Three days later, the private jet descended through bruised purple clouds towards the twinkling, chaotic grid of New York. Damien watched the city’s familiar skyline pierce the dusk, a landscape of both empire and ruin.It felt like dipping into a previous life.
“I still don’t understand why we need a chaperone,” he said, turning in his plush seat towards Beth. She was a study in contrast against the cream leather: a sleek black blazer, jeans, her hair pulled into a severe knot that only accentuated the elegant line of her neck.“He’s not a chaperone. He’s family.” She didn’t look up from her tablet, the glow painting her face in cool light. “And you two are worse than sisters when you’re apart for more than a week. You mope.”
“I do not mope.”
“You called him twice yesterday to complain about the ranch’s lack of decent espresso.”
“A legitimate grievance.” Damien grinned, the anticipation of seeing Marco lightening something in his chest. “And this is a surprise for him, remember? I just told him to be at the hangar. He thinks we’re heading to Vegas.”
“He’ll forgive you.” She finally glanced over, a flicker of amusement in her eyes. “Probably after he stops shouting.”
The jet touched down with a whisper of tires on tarmac. Through the window, Damien saw a familiar lean figure leaning against a black SUV, arms crossed, a cigarette glowing in the deepening twilight.Marco. Even from a distance, the cocky tilt of his head was unmistakable.
By the time they taxied to a stop and descended the stairs, Marco had stubbed out the cigarette. His expression was a mix of irritation and curiosity. “You know, some of us have real work to do,” he called out, but he was already striding forward. He clasped Damien in a quick, hard hug, clapping his back twice before turning to Beth.
“Boss Lady,” he said, his sharp hazel eyes softening.He pulled her into a similar embrace, which she returned without hesitation. “You look terrifying. I love it.”
“Good to see you too, Marco.” Beth stepped back, smoothing her blazer.“Get in. We have a flight to catch.”
Marco threw his duffle into the SUV’s trunk and slid into the backseat beside Damien as Beth took the front next to the driver, a silent ranch hand named Leo.“Okay, spill. Vegas is west.We’re heading east. What’s the play?”
Damien caught Beth’s eye in the rear-view mirror.She gave a slight nod.
“Change of plan,” Damien said.“We’re going to Colorado.”
Marco’s eyebrows shot up. “Skiing?It’s May.”
“Not skiing.” Damien took a breath. “We’re going to see Beth’s mother.”
For a moment, Marco just stared. The city lights strobed across his face, highlighting the scar through his eyebrow.The name, the relation, it clicked visibly. A slow recognition, then a dawning, profound wariness settled in his posture. “Her mother,” he repeated, the words careful. “Elena Novak.”
Beth turned in her seat to face him. “You’ve heard the stories.”
“Who hasn’t?” Marco’s voice was uncharacteristically flat.“The Siberian Valkyrie. Took out three of the Kazan syndicate’s top earners with a piano wire in a hotel sauna. That story?”
“That was a Tuesday,” Beth said, her tone dry. “But yes.”
Leo navigated the SUV back towards the private aviation terminal.Marco looked from Beth to Damien and back again. “She’s… she’s in Colorado?”
“She’s in a facility,” Beth corrected, her gaze steady.“For the criminally genius.That’s the official designation. It’s not a supermax. It’s built like a five-star hotel in the foothills. The theory is, if you keep the world’s most dangerous minds comfortable, distracted with luxury and intellectual puzzles, they’re less likely to try to burn the world down.”
Marco whistled softly.“Charges?”
“Conspiracy to commit murder. Multiple counts.” Beth’s voice didn’t waver.“She’d retired.She was just Mom. When my dad died… it wasn’t natural causes.It was a job that went sideways. She knew who was responsible.It took her three years. And when she was done, there were… gaps in the evidence.Our family’s other business pulled a few strings. She got twenty-five to life, eligible for parole soon. She was arrested when I was sixteen.”
The SUV was quiet, the only sound the hum of tires and the distant wail of the city. Marco absorbed it, his mind visibly working. “So tomorrow,” he finally said, “you’re bringing your mafia husband and his… associate… to meet your assassin mother in a designer prison.”
“When you put it that way, it sounds like a bad joke,” Damien said.
“It sounds like the start of a war or a hell of a alliance,” Marco countered, a grin finally returning to his lips, though it was edged with tension.“I’m in.But Rossi, you owe me. This is above and beyond best friend duties.”
“Noted.”
They boarded a different, smaller jet for the longer flight west.The mood was subdued, the banter replaced by a shared, pensive silence. Beth stared out at the dark blanket of America below, her profile etched against the window. Damien understood the weight. He was being ushered into the innermost vault of her history, shown the origin of her steel.
They landed in Colorado Springs late, the air thin and cold, smelling of pine and distant snow. A hired car took them to a hotel, a sleek, anonymous place of glass and sandstone.The room had two beds.Marco claimed one immediately, flopping down with a dramatic sigh. “I call not facing the door.”
Damien unpacked his toiletries, his movements automatic. Beth stood by the window, looking out at the dark, jagged teeth of the mountains against a star-dusted sky.
“She won’t bite,” Beth said, her voice barely above a whisper, as if to herself. “Not unless you give her a reason.”
Damien came to stand behind her, his hands settling on her shoulders.He felt the slight tremor running through her. “What do I need to know?”
She leaned back into him, her head tilting to rest against his chest.“Don’t flirt.She’ll see it as insincerity. Don’t boast.She’ll find the flaws. Don’t… don’t try to prove you’re tough. She invented the concept.” Beth turned in his arms, her green eyes searching his in the reflected city light.“Just be the man who loves her daughter. It’s the only currency she cares about.”
“And the fact that my business isn’t… strictly legal?”
A ghost of a smile touched Beth’s lips.“She’ll respect the pragmatism. She just won’t trust you because of it.”
In the other bed, Marco snorted. “This is the most stressful family reunion I’ve ever been invited to, and I once went to one where my uncle tried to stab my cousin over a bocce ball.”
Beth disentangled herself, the moment broken. “Get some sleep. Visiting hours are precise.”
Later, in the dark, with Marco’s breathing evening into sleep, Damien lay awake. He thought of his own mother, of her loud, fragrant kitchen, her emotional landscape that was as open and tumultuous as a summer storm. He thought of a woman who operated in calculated silence, who had loved so fiercely she had traded her freedom for vengeance. He thought of the thread that connected them both to the woman sleeping beside him, now curled towards him, her hand resting lightly on his chest.Tomorrow, he would meet the architect.The source. The Valkyrie in her gilded cage. His own empire, built on fear and respect, felt suddenly like child’s play.This was legacy of a different color. He wasn't entering a negotiation or a show of force.He was walking into an evaluation.
And for Beth, for the future they were painstakingly assembling, he knew he had to pass.