Page 30 of Violent Pawn

He’s also vastly different.

As Serafina hugs her brother and Katya is fawning over Vanessa’s ring, everyone’s attention is directed to the couple. My own left hand drifts up to my neck, stroking over the sensitive skin Nero once had his mouth on. It’s healed since last night, but does such a brand ever truly heal?

Nero gets out of his seat to round the table to congratulate the couple. He slaps Zeno’s back, dramatically kisses Vanessa’s cheek, and takes a swig from the glass practically fused to his hand after tapping it against Zeno’s.

Then it’s my turn, and because I’ll die before allowing Nero’s behaviours to distract from my best friend duty, I stand in time for Nero to reclaim his spot and go around to hug Vanessa, but glance at Zeno over her head.

“You realize I’m taking credit for this. If I didn’t drag both your cranky asses to the club that night, you would never have forgiven one another.”

“Nah,” Zeno drawls with a glance that could only be defined as love toward his fiancée. “It was only a matter of time. She was too addicting to stay away from forever.

Once everyone takes their seat, Nero stands with his drink. “A toast.” His voice goes through the private room that’s far from other diners. “To the most stubborn leaders who require the rest of us to play referee between their conflicting attitudes. Can’t wait to do it for the rest of your marriage, which will be as powerful as your reigns.” He sips his drink, signalling to the rest of us to do the same, but then continues. “After years of Zeno’s revenge planning, I never could have guessed we’d be here. You two found something so rare. Well…” His gaze sweeps the room, settling on the other couples. “Maybe less rare, given that it’s turning into an epidemic around here. Anyway, Z, you know I’m not good at this shit, so I’ll wrap it up. Here’s to a long, healthy, and lasting marriage, to you two wanting to kill one another for the rest of forever, and the rest of us preventing it.”

Nero drops back into his seat with a dramatic slump, his arm practically falling onto my own while the room bursts into laughter. He feels closer than he should be. The warmth from his body attempting to cool the frostiness I was certain to ensure remained between us.

He brings his glass to his mouth. It’s his third—not that I’m tracking. It doesn’t seem close to what he got last night. Then again, after I joined him, he drank a lot. Kept staring at the newly engaged couple too, which had my own senses tingling. Because if he thinks he could be an asshole to Vanessa’s happiness, he’ll be learning a lesson.

“The Commission will expect a grand ceremony,” Zeno announces suddenly, glancing down the table at his sister. “Cosa Nostra Capos and their families are mandated to attend one another’s weddings, to keep the organization as a functioning allied unit, as we all recently experienced. So, while I’d personally prefer something small with only immediate family, we can’t.” That part he says to Vanessa, whose lips are pressed together. “It’ll be a performance, which means backup.” He grins at Nero. “You already know what I’m about to ask.”

“Ask or demand?” Nero’s eyes twinkle in the low lighting of the room, but he accepts the offer with a sip from his drink. “An honour I’ve spent years ensuring is mine. You’re not getting rid of me.” As the glass lowers, so does the twinkle. It dims for something chilling and dark—something lonely.

Vanessa, grinning, shifts her attention my way. “The position’s been yours for years, if you’ll accept being my maid of honour.”

“Of course,” I murmur, my thoughts diving to the fact that both Nero and I will be wedding party partners. It means we’ll walk the aisle together at the end. We’ll be forced to dance during the reception.

A dance similar to what we did today. It shouldn’t have happened. I was dumb to agree, to let him hold me in such an intimate way. And he spread more dirty water from his fucking shoes around the floor, so it was a lose-lose. He probably read some unwritten message in that dance and assumed asking about my personal life was alright. Worse—he inquired about him.

As conversation around the table strikes up again, Nero taps his glass against mine. “Seems we’ll be spending more time together. Good thing we practiced our wedding dance.”

“Did you mean what you said about love?” Of all the questions to ask, that wasn’t supposed to be it. I should be digging into why he cares about my family at all, but his speech echoes around my mind with pieces of Nero that don’t seem to quite fit the outline he’s previously provided.

He shifts the glass into his other hand and rests it atop the table without releasing it as he scans the room, his lips pursing. Serafina leans into Lev’s chest while she talks to her siblings. Their chairs are so close together, she’s practically on his lap—not that Lev seems bothered. He fingers the ends of her hair while talking with Dimitri and Katya on his other side.

“Yeah,” Nero finally murmurs, just loud enough for me. He slides a couple inches down in his seat until our heads are aligned. “I do because they all found something in one another others passed over. They’ve faced struggles together and came out on top. It’s something we can all strive for to have in our lives. You disagree?”

“Da. I view it differently. Love is…” Emotion—horrors of the past—choke me up until nothing more comes. How can I disclose what I truly believe about love without admitting what I lived through? That can never happen. Not to Nero.

Love is a farce. These six people may have found a version that works for them, but they’re a rare breed. Love is finding someone who won’t betray me, who won’t use me to get ahead, or for sex only.

“Love is a miracle,” he finishes for me, choosing the terms he clearly prefers. “Look around. Vanessa and Zeno—two enemies who moved beyond their families’ war to see each other as individuals. Serafina buried herself so far beneath your brother’s skin, they’ll do anything for one another. Dimitri and Katya found one another after years apart.” He pauses to sip his drink. “Zeno told me some of their story. If they don’t say soulmates, I don’t know who does.”

The mystery of Nero begins unfolding more and more, a tempting string for me to pull on, yet also one I should tie back into a knot. The need to know has me blurting, “You believe in soulmates?”

“I did after hearing what they went through to get here. They’re a rare pair.” Nero leans closer, filling my nostrils with his cologne. “Two out of three couples are engaged. Wanna bet when your brother pops the question?”

“Easy bet to win. Lev doesn’t believe in marriage.” He doesn’t believe in much after surviving our father.

Not expecting his touch, I’m unprepared when he pokes a finger into my cheek and forces my head to reangle onto the couple in question. “For one, in our world, he’ll be expected to. Maybe not from the Bratva side, but as long as Serafina is Cosa Nostra, it’s in the cards for her. Z did great hiding her for years, but after the Vitale shit, her name’s out there. If Lev doesn’t get a ring on her finger soon, Z will get offers for her. He wouldn’t accept them, but it’ll happen. Besides, look at them. You can’t tell me that’s not a man preparing for his future.”

Serafina pets his neck in a soothing manner, but he isn’t looking at them nor the other two. No, he’s staring at Vanessa’s ring from where her hand rests on the table. There’s a slight tilt to his head and a furrow to his brows, like he’s trying to figure out a complicated equation.

When Serafina miraculously senses something in the unique bond I swear they have, she twists into him. He kisses her forehead affectionately before shifting back to stare at the ring.

“See?” Nero’s warm breath blows along my nape, right over the place his mouth was last night.

“Maybe you’re right.” It’d be impossible not to, if anyone paid them a mediocre second of attention, and it’s embarrassing that, as his twin, I never noticed how much he was considering it. Though, he may not have even realized this was something to consider until today.

He chuckles, leaning away to drink. One arm remains stretched across the back of my seat, reminiscent of the way Dimitri and Katya are sitting—like a couple. I jab my elbow into his side, earning another laugh and a murmured, “Careful, that may be too many compliments. It’ll make my head grow.”