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“I’m not dating anyone, Papa. I don’t even have the time nor the interest to do so,” I inform him.
“Alright,mia cara. It’s good then, because Dimitri Antonov will be arriving in New York in a few days. And it seems he’s still interested in a match with you.”
Fuck, I completely forgot about Dimitri’s return.
“That’s too bad, Papa. Like I said, I don’t have the time or any interest in dating anyone,” I say, my jaw clenched.
“No one said anything about dating, Sophia,” my father chuckles. “If it works out between you two, it would mean a marriage. One befitting of our families.”
I almost laugh.
My father’s brown eyes narrow.
“If it will benefit our family in this war with those boys running around pretending to be Dons, then you will have to consider,” he proclaims, his tone bordering no argument.
I swallow softly. I don’t like the sound of that. In our world, arranged marriages aren’t uncommon. And it’s suddenly hitting me that Dimitri’s arrival might not be a coincidence at all. He and my father have been in communication. And I have a feeling I’m not going to like what they decide.
“I understand, father,” I say, picking my battles.
Just for today, I’ll be seemingly agreeable.
“Good,” my dad states. “I expect you to receive Dimitri and make him comfortable during his time here. Who knows, you could be returning to Moscow with him.”
Over my dead body.
“Sure Papa.’
It’s not like arguing with him is going to do me any favors. Right now, I need a plan. And I really hope this doesn’t blow up in my face.
Dimitri will have expectations. Expectations I can’t meet. I think back to Tony saying he doesn’t like to share. He’s not going to like this.
What a fucking mess.
CHAPTER17
Tony
The light flickering in the distance is the only source of light in the dark alleyway. I can barely see anything, but the one thing I can see clearly is the man hobbling on his feet, trying as fast as he can to run away from me.
I smile to myself when he gets to the end of the alleyway, hitting a dead end.
“Nowhere left to run, Manuel,” I call out.
He turns around, green eyes speckled with terror. He’s on his knees by the time I arrive in front of him.
“Please,” he begs, “It won’t happen again.”
I crouch down in front of him, “She begged too, you know? The girl you assaulted. I’m sure she was crying too. But did you stop?” I say, my voice soft.
His hands are trembling as he reaches for my shirt, “Please forgive me, Legan.”
“Don’t get blood on my shirt,” I say, shrugging his arm off. “How’s the bullet wound feel? Not good, huh?”
He replies with a loud swallow.
“You shouldn’t have run. If you hadn’t, I wouldn’t have had to shoot you. You might not believe this, but I actually hate guns. They’re so loud, so… inconvenient,” I say quietly.
There are tears rolling down his cheeks now. “Wh- wha- what are you going to do to me?”
