The air goes tense. Even if we’re at a wedding, the lines between ourfamigliaand the Bratva have been crystal clear all day. There’s no intermingling. The Russians are keeping to themselves on their half of the tent, and the Andrianis and Revellos are sticking to theirs.
It’s not like a gunfight is about to break out. We’ve been meticulous when it comes to security. That’s why Priest wanted to hold the wedding on his estate outside the city. He’s got a top-tier security detail ringing the property and men at the gates checking every guest who comes and goes. We’re not taking any chances. When Priest married Luna, a rival Revello faction used the opportunity to clip Luna’s father in broad daylight on their way out of the church.
Shit like that’s not going down this time.
Which is why I nod at Dmitri. “Follow me.”
I head to a gazebo a few yards from the tent and patio. It overlooks the massive pool that’s lit and filled with floating flowers. That was Luna’s doing, and I’m not going to lie, it looks incredible.
I give my cigar a meditative puff as I turn to Dmitri. “What do you want?”
Dmitri rubs an inked hand along his jaw. Like Ekaterina, he has pale-blue eyes, but that’s where the similarities end. He’s got the same blond hair as hisstronzobrother, every bit as tall and hulking. I’m six foot four, and we stand eye to eye.
“I want to talk to you about Katya,” he says quietly.
There it is again, the name her family calls her.Katya.I like it. It’s short and pretty, with an edge. It suits her.
“What about my wife?” I bite out.
I may not have wanted to marry her, but she’s mine now, in every way.
“Promise me you’ll be good to her.” Something flickers in his eyes before they go blank.
“I don’t have to promise you anything.” I take another puff of my cigar. “Any understanding we had was blown up the second you planted a bomb in our restaurant.”
A muscle ticks in his jaw. “I had nothing to do with the bomb.”
“Bullshit.”
“Think about it rationally. You have plenty of enemies. The Bratva aren’t one of them.”
Anger surges up my spine. “Correction—they weren’t one of them until Mikhail Sidorov was minted the new Pakhan. Then suddenly, our restaurants are blowing up. Don’t play games with me, Sidorov. You’re going to lose.”
His expression hardens. “You kidnapped Katya.”
“We both know why.”
He rolls his shoulders. “You should have left her out of this. She doesn’t belong in this life. She’s never been part of it.”
“She’s your fucking sister. Your blood runs through her veins. That makes her part of it.”
“You went after Misha’s only weakness. He’s going to make you pay.”
There’s a warning in his voice I don’t like, but I’m not about to let it show.
“He’s already making me pay by forcing me into this marriage,” I point out.
Dmitri casts a look around like he’s concerned he’s being watched. “There are other ways to make a man pay.”
“What’s that supposed to mean, Sidorov?” Too annoyed to smoke my cigar, I snuff it out on the gazebo table and leave it. “Are you threatening me right now?”
He shrugs. “Call it what you like. But if you do anything to hurt my sister, it won’t be Misha you have to worry about. It’ll be me.”
Now I’m annoyed. “Do I look like a fucking wife-beater to you?”
“There’s more than one way to hurt someone, and not all of them involve fists.” He gives me a stern look. “Hurt her, and I hurt you.”
I’m an Andriani. I don’t take orders from him or anyone but my don. And while I appreciate that Sidorov’s being protective of his sister, it’s also too little, too late.
