Marco sat cross-legged in the confines of his walk-in-closet. The wracks empty around him and packed away into the suitcases behind him, a smaller one lying open before his vacant gaze as he stared at the contents without registering what it contained.

"Marco?" Sofia's voice jolted him out of his vacant stare, forcing him to inhale deeply before closing the flap of the case, zipping it up.

A lump formed in her throat to see his side of the closet emptied of his belongings, the realization of his departure tomorrow morning feeling like a sledgehammer against her ribcage. Her fingers trembling as a lump lodged itself into her throat.

"All done," Marco spoke with a light-hearted smile. "Took longer than I expected, and made me want to throw out quite a few clothes, but then I realized that they were all gifts of one sort or another," He blabbered and absently stroked the material of the pant leg for his suit laid out for tomorrow.

He fell silent to feel his wife's presence behind him, tilting his head back to look up at her but instead found her kneeling at his back, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and burying her face into the crook of his neck. The tears dampening the small patch of skin his t-shirt exposed. Marco content in letting her cry it out with him rather than all alone, rubbing his thumb back and forth across the skin of her forearm.

"I'm so sorry," Sofia hiccupped finally, Marco's eyebrows furrowing at the words. "I'm so sorry for what I said at breakfast yesterday, I'm sorry for not being able to go with you. I'm sorry for every trouble I've caused you. I'm sorry for everything,"

"Baby, you have nothing to apologize for," Her husband soothed, knowing that he had to be a little put together to comfort his wife. Swallowing down the emotions running havoc in his system and pulled her forward, settling her on his lap and hugged her. I know Salvatore can be an ass sometimes, and that doesn't excuse his behavior, but everyone has their faults and flaws. And you just said the most logical answer from a Mafia Boss's point of view of things, so I understand. And for the other things..." Marco tightened his hold on her

"You wouldn't be my wife without those little screw-ups and arguments, now would you? I married you, flaws and all, and I wouldn't have wanted it any other way,"

With Sofia in his arms, he tried to memorize the feel of her body against his, her warmth seeping into him, the fragrance of her perfume, shampoo, and favorite body lotion lingering in the back of his mind. The feel of her curves under his hand, her lips against his own. The soft arch of her brow, and the curve of her nose, the dip of her lips, and the pointedness of her chin. He wanted to commit it all to memory, he wanted to commit her to memory so he would be able to survive this time away from her.

Looking down at his wife, Marco combed a hand through her golden tresses, tilting her head back to see how blotchy her cheeks were, the tip of her nose red and her eyes bloodshot and puffy.

"God, you're beautiful," He managed to choke out with a laugh between the tears that welled up inside him, his chest tightening to see the tears stream down. Knowing she would have it just as rough as him.

With a strangled sound, Sofia wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him to her as they both sat embracing on the walk-in-closet floor.

"I hope you understand that this is standard procedure," Salvatore stood before Marco's seated figure, flipping through the document before him. "It's not that I don't trust you or anything-"

"-Do you have a pen?" Marco looked up at his brother with a soft smile, his eyes rimmed red and his chest tight.

The Mafia Boss fell quiet, nodding and handed him the pen from his inner breast pocket.

"Am I to sign this as Aleksander or Marco?" The younger sniffled, the pen hovering over the dotted line as he looked up at his brother.

"Aleksander Romanov," The Italian informed. "You're no longer Marco Regnante, that identity has died away,"

"Standard procedure, right?" Marco found himself choking out to know that the man he had built from the ground up, the life he had created, was all gone. Nonexistent.

"No, the name was Nikolai's request,"

"Of course," He let out a strained chuckle and signed the document with trembling fingers. Running his palms against his thighs before standing up and cleared his throat. "So this is it, I guess,"

"This is it,"

"God, it's been twenty-two years since I've been here," Marco wiped away the tears before they could fall down, looking around him at the office he has spent countless hours in to be groomed to become a Boss like Salvatore. "We've all had our fair share of ups and downs and whatnot," He waved dismissively with a chuckle, Salvatore's lips quirking at the words.

"But in the end," He laughed to himself. "We've all been always there for each other,"

"We have," The Mafia Boss exhaled breathlessly, pulling Marco to him and hugging him tightly. "And we will continue to be when you take over the Romanov Mafia, okay? That is my promise to you,"

"Just promise me you'll take care of Sofia," The younger sniffled and stepped out of his hold. "She'll need someone there for her during this initial time period,"

"Of course, I promise to look out for her,"

Marco smiled in gratitude, hugging the boss once more before they stepped out into the lounge, everyone who mattered being gathered there for him. His parents, siblings, nieces and nephews, Sofia, Lucio and Bianca with their kids, Stephen was there too, as were Tazio, Piero, Alberto, and Francisco. He bid farewell to everyone, in turn, each hug feeling like a ton of cement was filling into his lungs before he just maintaining his composure by a thread.

Saying goodbye to the kids was hard, unable to explain to them why he was going and when he would be back, but his heart was wrenched out of his chest to say goodbye to his parents and siblings, knowing they all were putting up a strong front in an effort to not make things harder for him. Even then, Marco felt like he would die when he held his wife for the last time, kissing her as long as he could manage, her tears dampen his cheeks, and forcing him to resist the urge to burst out crying.

She couldn't bring herself to go to the hanger, knowing she wouldn't be able to handle that, and opted to let Salvatore drop him.

"Nikolai will meet us at the hanger," Salvatore informed him softly as he held out a tissue box to the younger. "I've arranged for your transport to St. Petersburg and-"

"-Thank you," Marco stopped him. "Thank you, Salvatore, for everything you've ever done for me."

"Don't go saying stuff like that," Salvatore's eyes softened. "Like it's the last time we'll meet."

"You yourself had said that this man couldn't love his own wife, how the hell is he going to love an estranged son? What guarantee do I have of what my life would be like over there?"

"He won't hurt you," Salvatore straightened. "He wouldn't dare,"

"The man had the audacity to walk into one of your meetings," The younger pointed out. "God knows what he would dare to do,"

The words rang in Salvatore's head as they pulled up into the hanger, Nikolai standing by the car and waiting for them.

Marco greeted the man with a brief nod, not standing in his general vicinity as he waited for the men to load up his luggage into the jet. Salvatore standing behind him and ignoring the Russian to his left.

Once everything was settled, Marco turned around, hugging the Italian Mafia Boss one last time before he walked up the steps and into the interior. The younger watched Nikolai sit down on the left side of the aisle, and for that reason he opted to sit three seats away from him on the right side, staring out at the tarmac beneath him and waited for the door to pull up and the plane to start moving.

"What is the meaning of this?" Nikolai's indignation had Marco look up and turn around to find Salvatore stepping in, his two bodyguards behind him as he handed his coat to one of them. "Salvatore-"

"-You're in my jurisdiction Mr. Romanov," Salvatore halted him. "You call me 'Boss' as your superior,"

Marco resisted the urge to laugh at the man's red face, his smile present while his eyebrows furrowed together when his brother came and settled down in the seat opposite him.

"Wheels up in three," Salvatore informed his guard.

"What are you doing?" Marco asked.

"Me? Well, I'm ensuring the safe arrival of my brother,"

"Our agreement-" Nikolai seethed, standing to Salvatore's right.

"-Our agreement stated that he won't have any contact with us once he's settled in St. Petersburg, nowhere does it say that I can't accompany him to Russia and help him settle in," Salvatore smirked. "I am doing this and there is nothing you can do to stop me because I don't trust a single hair on that balding head of yours, so forgive me, but your and my interest do not align and I want to ensure – personally – that my interests are properly taken care of,"

"Now, Nikolai take a seat before you break a hip or something," The Italian Mafia Boss waved dismissively, picking up one of the magazines lying on the table before him and absentmindedly flipped through it.

Nikolai flushed a deeper red to hear the snort that Marco let out, the younger trying his hardest to cover it up with a cough and stare outside. The Russian gritted his teeth before returning to his seat just as the plane began to taxi.

Marco sat opposite his brother with a wide grin behind his hand, watching the Italian accepting the champagne placed before him and flipping through a book he generally keeps with him, reading the words on the pages. Looking up at the younger when he nudged his dress shoes with his own.

"Spontaneity is not your trademark, Salvi," Marco smiled.

"Assurance is," The Mafia Boss said with a shrug. "Besides, you simply reinforced my belief of this man not being trustworthy."

"I love you, you know that,"

"Of course I do,"

The air outside chilled them to the bone, Marco shivering in his coat and watched in astonishment as his brother stood before him in complete comfort as if though the cold didn't bother him.

"How are you alive?" Marco huddled towards him.

"Fur interior," Salvatore winked at him, chuckling when his brother slipped his hand into the Mafia Boss's coat pocket; shuffling on his feet in an attempt to stay warm as Nikolai talked to a man.

"Mr. Regnante," The man stepped forward sheepishly. "Forgive me, but we would have to blindfold you and your men."

"Security measures, of course," He added when Salvatore looked at him with a raised eyebrow. "Aleksander as well, until you're with us, sir,"

Salvatore stood quietly for a minute before nodding, being settled into the Cadillac beside Marco as they were blindfolded.

"You're rather calm about being blindfolded," Marco noted beside him quietly.

"What? This isn't the first time this has happened,"

"But you've never been taken abducted during your reign so far?"

"Who said it was the enemy that blindfolded me?"

"Oh! Man, come on," Marco laughed, throwing his head back at the realization of his words, their laughter startling the two guards in the front, one of them saying something in Russian. "What?"

"He's asking if you're comfortable," Salvatore translated for him.

"Da," Marco said the only word he knew in Russian, the man saying something again.

"He's welcoming you home, Aleksander,"

"Blagh," Marco shuddered at the name. "How do I say thank you?"

"Blagodaryu vas-"

"-Blagodaryu vas,"

The manor they pulled up at was nothing in terms of grandeur when it came to Salvatore's estate. Even the security felt inadequate and outdated and Marco could already see all the changes he would bring about once he took over.

Before they could get settled in, Salvatore demanded Aleksander be introduced to the ones that worked besides the Pakhan. Being introduced to a variety of people as the Italian stood a little further back, eying the people before him.

"Where is your second-in-command?" He finally asked the question once he had their ranks ordered into a hierarchy.

"Oh, he doesn't work from here," Nikolai stated dismissively. "To protect his person he works from a personal site,"

"He works from home?" Salvatore raised an eyebrow. "Like some stay-at-home-husband? Or does daddy get distracted with him being here?" He taunted.

"I wouldn't-" Nikolai began to retaliate before Aleksander cut him off.

"-Could I be shown to my room?"

"Yes, of course,"

One of Nikolai's men showed him to his room, but even before he could step inside, Salvatore rejected the room, saying that Aleksander is a prince and would not be staying in some servant quarters. So, the men went about looking for a more suitable room that Salvatore approved of. Eventually settling on one of the master suites which was more to the Mafia Boss's taste.

"You know the first eight rooms were fine," Marco muttered to his brother as they watched the men bring in his luggage.

"I know," Salvatore nodded. "I just wanted to show Nikolai that even here in Russia, my authority overrules his,"

The younger couldn't help but giggle at his brother's antics.

The first week, Salvatore helped Marco set up his room to his liking with a dark grey wall and a platform bed opposite a flat-screen T.V. Glass wardrobes to his right with a door leading into the bathroom and a balcony door at his left. On the shelf on top of his bed, he set it up with a few knickknacks, like a picture of him and Sofia on their wedding day, some books, chargers, and a Rubix cube.

"You know what would make it look complete?" Salvatore asked, referring to the shelf.

"What?"

"This." He held out a soft pink origami rose encased in glass, Marco looking at it with furrowed eyebrows. "I don't think you'd remember, but this is the first-ever origami that you gifted me when I went off to Stanford. As a memento, you called it. So now, I am giving it to you. As a memento,"

"Salvatore-" Marco murmured in disbelief, taking it into his hands.

A knock on the door had the two look up, finding a guard standing before them with his head bowed and said something in Russian, Salvatore responding fluently before turning to his brother.

"Come on,"

"Where to?"

"A survey of your birthright,"

The two were accompanied by both Regnante and Romanov bodyguards, the Russians and Italians walking behind their respective persons while the two surveyed their surroundings.

"It's not much," Salvatore noted.

"It's not nothing either,"

"It's not enough,"

"We'll expand when I take over,"

"That's a priority," Salvatore scoffed, his reaction having Marco laugh as he couldn't help but grin up at his brother, knowing that his presence here made everything feel so much better on him. Lighter, almost.

"Salvatore-" Marco began to say as the Mafia Boss turned to him with a raised eyebrow.

The Italian watching his brother smile at him and take a step forward before his eyes widened and his whole body jerked. Salvatore instantly stepping towards him and caught him when he began to fall. Watching silently when Marco put a hand against his chest, his palm coming away with blood.