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I don’t love her. I don’t think I even like her. She’s a traitor and she’s mouthy, and I’ve always pictured my wife as the perfect and dutiful bratva bride, deferential to her husband and obedient to her family.
Siena is clearly not that.
I don’t believe in fate. I don’t believe in signs. But if I did, I would see this chance encounter as an act of the almighty, and I can’t bring myself to turn away.
I don’t want her, but I need her all the same.
“He will accept it,” I say after a dozen or so heartbeats. “And if he doesn’t, you won’t have to worry about a traitor daughter anymore.”
Guido sighs deeply. “Very well. Take her if you want. I will hold my tongue, Maxim, but I will not wait forever. You have six weeks to convince your father before I speak to him myself.”
I glare at him, but I nod. I accept his timeline, only because six weeks should be plenty.
Siena stands and throws her hands into the air. “Do I get a say in any of this?” she asks, staring from me to her father.
“No,” I say at the same time her father says, “Absolutely not.”
She glares at us and crosses her arms. “Let me pack my things.”
“There’s no time,” I say. “We’re leaving.”
“At least let me say goodbye to the girls.” Her tone’s desperate. “Please, I don’t want to just disappear. They’ll worry.”
“Don’t be stupid,” her father snaps. “This man is offering you a way out. All your sins, absolved. All because Maxim Novalov wants you, for whatever reason.” He shakes his head and looks at the ceiling. “I fear I will regret this, but don’t be so stupid, Siena, my traitorous, worthless daughter. Do something good for once in your life.”
She glares hate and death at her father and I bristle at his words. “Careful, Don Bastone,” I say softly. “You’re speaking to my future bride.”
Guido grins at me. “We’ll see about that.” He walks to the door. “I suggest the two of you go. Enzo won’t be happy, you know.”
“Enzo can sit and screw,” Siena says, frowning at me. “My older brother’s an asshole.”
“I know. We’ve met.”
Guido chuckles.
I walk to Siena. I hold out my hand. I can see the fear in her eyes, but also the excitement. The eagerness. I like the electricity that seems to crackle from her skin.
“This is your chance,” I say softly. “You can stay here forever, or you can come with me.”
“Do you really want to marry me?”
I don’t answer. I only stare at her, thinking about that night. About the bloodstain on the sheets. About her moans. About my cum deep between her legs.
She reaches out and takes my hand.
“Good choice,” I say and lead her from the room. We walk down the walkway together and Zita gapes, her mouth hanging dumbly. I give her a long stare and hope she understand what it means: if she ever steps foot off Don Bastone’s territory, I’ll cut her throat. Siena flips Zita off as we walk down the stairs, and I should discipline her for that—she’ll need to learn to control herself at the Kremlin—but Zita deserves her ire, so I let it slide.
I open the passenger side door to my BMW. Siena pauses and looks back at the motel. A girl stands at the railing, young and pretty, wearing a tank top that barely covers her small breasts and a pair of cut-off jean shorts that hang in tatters. Mira, the one I met in the back room. She waves, and Siena waves back and blows a kiss.
I get in behind the wheel. Siena slips into the seat next to mine. She draws her knees to her chest and hugs them tight.
“Where to then?” she asks.
“Home,” I say.
Chapter 10
Siena
I should be grateful.
Maxim saved my life. He pulled me out of that hellhole and offered me an entirely new start. I don’t know what my future holds, but at least it won’t end beneath some overweight stranger as he fucks me while he sweats and drools and grunts. I won’t have to sell my body and sleep with a stranger for the second time ever. I narrowly avoided a true nightmare, all because of him.
But he’s also the reason I was in that position at all.
If it weren’t for him, Zita never would have had leverage over me like that. She wouldn’t have been able to blackmail me if Maxim had only been able to stay away like I told him to.
He didn’t, all because he’s a self-centered bratva bastard.
Like everyone else in this miserable world, he only cares about himself and what he wants.
They’re all the same. Mafia, bratva, yakuza, whatever. They’re all entitled pricks that care about fucking, money, and violence, and nothing else. There’s no decency, no morality, no humanity left in their hearts.
