Page 8 of The Arrangement

Panic raged under her calm exterior. Viviana’s uncle worked out of Long Island, mostly. “It’ll be a war inside the city.”

Boris still looked unaffected. “It’s happened before.”

“Not between the Bratva and Cosa Nostra. Would it be bigger than just New York?”

With a disgruntled grunt, he suddenly leaned over and opened the console between their seats. Viviana didn’t get the chance to see what he grabbed before the flip door to the console was shut once more.

“Anton doesn’t want you worried and bothered when you arrive. I need you quiet at the border. It’s not so easy bribing officials, you know.” With those words, his hand shot out, and a sting radiated deep in her bare arm. Striking out at him with a startled yelp, the car swerved. She glanced at where the pain originated only to see him push the plunger down in the needle he stabbed her with. “Mostly just a mild sedative that will keep you quiet for a half a day or so. It’ll do the trip at least.”

“What … what di-did … ju …” The words trailed off and Viviana slumped down in the seat almost instantly. Mild sedative, my ass, she thought drowsily. “I’m telling … Anton … you … tell Anton … drugged me.”

Boris laughed. “You do that, my dear. Sleep for now.”

Just as her body began drifting off into a forced slumber, a ringing sounded through the car’s speakers. Boris answered in Russian, and she tried to keep her eyes open long enough to see his facial reactions to what he was hearing. The voice on the other end sounded vaguely familiar, but the wearier Viviana got, the less she was able to focus.

That was, until her name was spoken in the caller’s mother tongue: Viviana. She hadn’t been addressed by that name since her parent’s death, and publically everyone knew her as Vine. It was a nickname given to her years ago by her older brother Tony when he was unable to speak her given name properly. She was always introduced as Vine. Never once did she use Viviana unless it was necessary.

But nine long years before, Anton had been the odd man out. He was the one person who called her by her given name; she had only ever been just Viviana to him.

In her chemical-induced slumber, she dreamt of an earlier time …

“Come on, they don’t all call you Vine, right?” Anton asked in the dark.

“Yep, everyone.”

His hand traced a light path across her naked legs wrapped in his under the blanket. She’d snuck into his room, since it was both their last night before they left from vacation to return to New York. It’d be a long while before they would see each other again. Really, Viviana just wanted to be close to him; one week was all it took for her to feel that way.

“Mom calls me Ant. I hate that.”

She laughed. “Ant, really? Oh, God, that’s horrible.”

“Shut up, or you’ll wake the house.”

“Don’t think your bull doesn’t already know someone is in here with you.”

Anton shrugged and rolled to his back with a sigh. “He won’t tell, and they wouldn’t care. Well, maybe Roman would. You shouldn’t be in a boy’s room in the middle of the night, Vine.”

“I thought you liked Viviana better,” she whispered, biting her lip and grinning.

“So, Viviana, why did you sneak out of your warm, safe bed to climb into mine?”

Before her sixteen-year-old self could think better of her actions, she leaned up and kissed him. His large hands tightened on her trim waist, gripping hard as the air turned thick. He muttered harshly under his breath.

“I wanted to say goodbye before morning,” Viviana said as his thumbs brushed against her sides. Shivering at the new sensations driving through a body still too young to understand, he drove her a little closer, wrapping both tighter in the blanket. “I’m not cold.”

“Me, either.” Hands moved under the flimsy short and tank set she wore, hesitating only long enough to ask, “Can I?”

“Say it again,” Viviana demanded.

Anton’s brow furrowed, blue eyes lighting up in his confusion. “Say what?”

“My name.”

Russian fell from his lips so smooth and deep, but there was one word above the rest that she understood well enough: Viviana. It ached so badly, the pads of his thumbs brushing away salty tears that escaped from the corners of her eyes. He was so careful, though, and oh so gentle.

“Giving this to me makes you mine, Vine. I don’t care about who comes after, or the in-betweens. Not when we both know I’m going to be your last.”

Viviana didn’t have a reason to doubt him, but she sure as hell hadn’t wanted to, either.