Page 40 of The Arrangement

Sasha had been happy they picked a date for the wedding and didn’t say another thing about it, let alone pester her son with more phone calls. Planning for the wedding suddenly seemed a whole lot easier with a date officially picked and Anton’s declaration over what he’d like to see used as a color scheme. It wasn’t going to be big, so a lot of little nonsense could and would be crossed off their lists.

With Anton’s influence and a few phone calls, The Plaza Hotel’s entertainment, dining room, and spa on Fifth Avenue had been booked for their wedding, dinner, and reception with practically no notice at all. Viviana didn’t dare ask the cost of that one, or just how much money he shoveled out to the owners and management to save that date. Given the price just to rent a room for a night, which Viviana’s mother had done more than once when her father was alive, she knew it had to be quite an expense.

The pretty black Bentley was waiting the very next morning after Anton’s show with the keys. The cutest red bow sat perched up on the hood, just waiting for Viviana to get in and make those tires squeal. Which she did—all the while Anton had his hand on her thigh sporting the most devious, sexy smirk as it trailed a little higher, making her breath catch.

It had been an easy, quiet week. Nothing to worry about during her walks with Rocco after Vito, though her bulls were sticking closer to her than ever. The bulls weren’t giving her warnings or signals about something that might have concerned them now, though. Whenever she ventured away from their safe house with her car to visit a few shops for wedding things, or just because she could, Viviana hadn’t once felt unsafe, even after the dog park fiasco. Although much to her displeasure, but not surprise, she was made aware on her third trip into the heart of the city that a federal car was now on detail with her. Anton had been in a particularly good mood for the week when he was home as well.

Simple, so damned simple.

And then it wasn’t.

Sometime in the late afternoon, Sasha called over the intercom in a panic. The doctor had been to the house earlier in the day with a promise to be back after supper just to check if Daniil’s cough was getting worse. When the coughing fits turned up bright red blood in a tissue, it was clear something else was going wrong beyond a little chest cold.

Nothing was little when it came to cancer.

The phone in Viviana’s hand dinged with a text. Sighing with just a smidge of relief, she said, “Anton is coming up from the underground parking garage now.”

It was the softest, most heartbroken sob from Sasha that all but did Viviana in. Almost as if Sasha’s heart was being ripped from her chest and torn apart, because if the way she looked at Daniil on daily basis was any indication, it most certainly was. With her knees drawn up into her chest, Viviana hugged her legs and hid her face, not wanting to watch a stronger woman than her cry.

• • •

“One second, Boss,” Boris muttered, slamming shut the car door. “Just give the others a moment to catch up.”

Anton fought back his rising urge to bark at the brigadier. It was his father after all, so if he wanted to rush up through the garage without waiting for the other men to arrive, he had every right to goddamn well do so. Of course, that was the irrational side of his brain, which at times, still felt like he was that twelve-year-old kid who thought his father and step-grandfather ruled the fucking world.

Being who he was now, Anton knew it wasn’t just about him anymore. Daniil had more than earned his place and respect in their world. He didn’t have biological brothers, but he had four dozen Bratva brothers scattered across Brooklyn with their phones on constant dial. At least eight of them were in cars on their way there.

“Boss, heads up. Sixth row down, second lane in, black car with hats down.”

At Boris’s quiet warning, Anton made quick work of finding the unmarked car with an almost predatory gaze. Two federal agents. They looked to be the same ones who continued following his Viviana around, although they had yet to approach her. Anton was more concerned with just why they were tailing her more than the actual fact that they were.

“Fucking cockroaches,” he growled darkly. “Here with my dad sick, really?”

Boris shrugged. “Maybe they just followed her car in.”

“She jumped in the ambulance with my mother.”

“What’d you think it is, then?”

Anton swallowed the heavy lump in his throat. “Roman, maybe. I know Sonny had her locked up tight after her dad died, making sure the feds couldn’t get to her when she was grieving.”

“You gonna let her talk to them?”

As three cars slid into the underground parking garage one right after the other at a speed too fast to be regular civilians, Anton kicked his car door closed and shrugged. While the cars began to unload with older Bratva members, Anton and his brigadier began making their way to the entrance for the elevators.

Crossing directly in front of the federal car, just to let them know they weren’t fooling a soul, the younger man stared straight through the windshield before flicking them his middle finger as a silent fuck off. They’d only get the one warning.

“My fiancée is a grown woman who knows what she can and can’t do without me needing to tell her. If she’s got something to say to the feds regarding her father’s death, that’s her choice. It has absolutely nothing to do with the Bratva. We all know she isn’t going to speak a word about me. That’s what’s most important.”

“The Italians—they’d kill her for talking about family business.”

“They could sure fucking try.”

• • •

Viviana looked up as a pair of hands squeezed her shoulders soothingly. Anton’s tired, sad expression stared back down at her. “Hey.”

“Hey, babe,” she answered back, seeing the slight curve of his lips at her sentiment. “Missed you.”