Page 77 of The Arrangement

“Don’t say okay, Ivan. It’s not okay.”

There was a hand on his shoulder squeezing painfully tight and it was the only thing keeping him rooted to the floor. Anton was grateful, because his heart and soul just walked on by like he was the last thing that she ever wanted to see again.

“You’ve got to deal with the fire bug, man.”

Again, Anton found himself nodding dumbly. “I fucked that up.”

“You love her,” Ivan whispered, sounding torn and pained. “That’s not nothing. It’s just not. Take a breath, deal with crazy, and get Vine the hell home like she asked. Give the girl some credit; her heart just shattered and she didn’t even say a word. Anybody else would have thrown a terrible fit. She walked away.”

The throb in his hand reminded him of his other pain. Anton blinked down at the injured pinkie. Without thinking about it, he grabbed the digit with a stinging twist, grit his teeth, and forced it back into place with a painful pop. The damned thing came out of joint nearly every time his fist cracked into something.

“She walked away,” Ivan repeated calmly. “She’s got nerves. So while you take a breather, let her have hers to think about whatever.”

Nerves, yeah. That was one way of saying it. Another was being honest and stating it like it really was. Viviana Carducci had been raised a true mafia princess. She might have had Bratva in her blood but she was born into a Cosa Nostra world. She knew how to walk, when to talk, and the second she needed to blink it all away.

And she was supposed to be his … only ever his.

Anton shuddered with another breath as his heart splintered a little bit more.

“Let’s get this done.”

The exit door slammed open under Anton’s hand. The heavy metal banged on the side of a dumpster as he stepped out into the alleyway. Instantly, he met the waiting gaze of one of Viviana’s bulls and the very frightened stare of Tatiana.

“You made a big mistake, Tati.”

He pulled a cigarette from his pocket, lit it up and took a puff. Ivan closed the exit door, keeping a hand in to make sure it wouldn’t latch closed completely. Really, he just wanted to get this done and over with. Tatiana wasn’t even important to him; she hadn’t ever been. Now, he just needed to make it clear.

“What, you going to hurt me for making your pretty little fiancée cry, Anton?”

“Nope.” Another inhale off the cigarette burned painfully sweet into his throat. He felt raw and ripped open. “Apparently my girl can handle herself just fine, and by the looks of it, you didn’t make her spring a leak. I don’t hit women, contrary to popular belief. What I will do, however, is pay a mighty price to knock you off. You understand that, Tati?”

Her eyes dropped from his sight. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Oh yeah, I would. Wouldn’t even blink when I got the call to say it was done, too. I don’t know what you said, and I don’t give a shit, but if I ever see you walking the streets of Brighton Beach in the next forty years, I promise you won’t breathe long enough to leave them, girl.”

“Fuck you.”

The words were as good as a punch, but they didn’t sting a bit. Still, her defiance only served to piss him off further. In a flash, Anton had crossed the space of the alley. He had her throat in his palm as he forced her back into the wall and made her eyes meet his. The choking sound of air only had him cutting off her oxygen supply even more. Tears slipped through her rapidly blinking eyes. When her fingers clawed at his arms, Anton looked down with a severe expression.

“I don’t hit women …” he repeated, resting the cigarette precariously between his lips with a careless flair, “but I’ll sure as fuck make sure to get this clear so you won’t misunderstand me and come knocking ever again. I don’t want you. I’ve already had you and it was more than enough. Find some other man to spread your legs for because it won’t ever be me again. If you even think to dare look in the direction of Viviana one more time, I will pay that price and have your blood spilling on Jersey ground, Tati. Are we clear?”

“Anton,” Ivan warned quietly. “Ease up a little.”

No fucking way. His grip tightened instead.

“Are we clear?”

The hard swallow and single nod was more than enough. Anton let go.

Chapter Seventeen

Anton’s forehead rested on the bathroom door. The throbbing beats of his heart coursed through his veins with every aching thud, making it that much harder to breathe. With his hands splayed wide open against the wood, he begged once more for Viviana to let him inside the bathroom. The silent response he received was more heart-wrenching than if she would have screamed at him.

Because she didn’t…not at all.

Viviana hadn’t said a single word.

Not a fucking one.