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“You defended our family and lived. Perhaps, if he had been better prepared, he wouldn’t be dead,” he says, as if it were truly that simple. “Don’t forget your role, Luka. Grief is for the weak. If you want to run things one day, you can’t mourn every man lost or you’d have time for nothing else.”
He’s right. It feels callous, but callousness is merely another job requirement for a don. I can’t show weakness. I can’t fall on my face and weep in front of the dead. The moment I do is the moment my enemies know how to strike me, how to wound me.
“I haven’t forgotten,” I say. “And I’m not grieving.”
The song finally ends and another soldier stands up, making his way towards the podium to tell a story about his lost friend, but when he reaches the stage and looks out over the audience, his eyes focus on the back of the church and his brows lower. Slowly, the crowd begins to turn, and when I finally follow suit, I realize what he is looking at.
Eve.
She is walking through the double doors of the church dressed in a tight white dress wholly inappropriate for a funeral, but sexy as hell. The fabric clings to her ample chest, tapering around her waist and flaring around her hips. I’m so entranced by the cut of her body that I don’t immediately see the men behind her. But when I do, I stand up, hand on my gun.
Benedetto Furino is walking behind his daughter, half-hidden behind her like she is some kind of shield.
“You do not belong here.” My father’s voice surprises me, but I shift from one foot to another to hide my jolt. “You caused these deaths, and unless you want to bring about your own, I must ask you to leave.”
His words are level, diplomatic, and they are juxtaposed against the action of every Volkov member in the room drawing their weapons and aiming them at the approaching Furinos.
My eyes immediately move to Eve. She is blinking rapidly, face pale, eyes trained on the floor. She looks like she would blow away in a stiff wind. Behind her, Benedetto raises his hands in surrender.
“We have come to accept your offer,” he says, projecting his voice across the room. “We want an end to the rivalry and the deaths, so Eve has come to accept Luka’s hand in marriage.”
There is a curious clenching in my chest, and I roll my shoulder to dispel it. She is going to marry me. She accepted my offer.
I turn to my father, and he is looking at me, eyes narrowed in annoyance. A union between our family and the Furinos is not his first choice, but he cannot admit to that here. Doing so would be admitting that his own son went behind his back and arranged this deal. It would be a sign of failed leadership, and the only thing worse for a don’s control than an excess of emotions is an obvious lack of control.
“Is that so?” he says, looking from me to Eve, a small smile pulling on his lips. “What joyous news.”
Eve looks anything but joyous. She is in white, but shadows seem to cling to her, hollowing her cheeks and the skin around her collarbone. She looks ten pounds lighter than when I saw her a week before.
My father clears his throat, and everyone lowers their weapons in unison. He has trained them well. Benedetto sighs in relief and then pushes Eve further in front of him.Coward. Standing behind his own daughter, forcing her to walk first into the room. I want to slit his throat, but I also know he is the only reason Eve is agreeing to our arrangement. And I’m surprised to find this bothers me. I don’t think there is a universe in which Eve would agree to marry me of her own free will, but I wish there were.
“Luka,” my father clips, nodding his head forward. “Search her.”
It could be a trap, and we would be fools to not consider it otherwise. I step into the aisle and walk towards her. For the first time, Eve looks up at me, and I see her cowering in front of me that night in the parking lot. I see her trembling and fearful of what I will do to her.
Our marriage is not for love, but for business. She has agreed to the arrangement and that is enough for me. It has to be.
As soon as I’m within arm’s reach of her, I grab her elbow and pull her forward. Her father, to his credit, narrows his eyes at me, but is quickly distracted by one of my soldiers patting him down, as well. They all must be searched.
“It would be a little difficult to hide anything under this dress,” Eve says.
She is right. The dress is skin tight. I can see every dip of her ribs and the downward slope of her stomach beneath her belly button.
“I prefer an abundance of caution,” I say, curling my hands around her sides and stroking downwards. Her body feels better than I would have imagined. Soft and warm and delicate. I adjust my stance to hide what our nearness is doing to me. It’s embarrassing. I’ve been around plenty of women. Beautiful women have danced for me and done every unspeakable thing to bring me pleasure, yet running my hands down Eve’s body feels better than anything.
I slowly move down her ribs, my hands gripping her small waist, and Eve sucks in a breath when my hand rests on her hip and then shifts around to her lower back. Her body arches, her chest straining against the already tight fabric of her dress, and I can’t help but admire her curves. I imagine running my hands over her chest, feeling the weight of her breasts in my palm.
She stands tall and leans forward, her pouty lips barely moving as she whispers, “Unless you think I have a blade wedged between them, I’d suggest you keep moving.”
I narrow my eyes, but she meets my gaze, unflinching. The fight in her will need to be broken. But not now. I continue down her backside, my fingers digging into the soft flesh until she gasps. When I look at her again, her cheeks are pink.
There is no need to continue further. Her legs are exposed from mid-thigh down, and her shoes are strappy heels. She is clean, and all of the soldiers step back moments after I do, so I know the Furinos with her are clean, as well. It isn’t a trap. She is actually agreeing to marry me.
I look past her to her father, not bothering to hide my disdain. “Leave.”
Eve spins around, eyes wide, but her father doesn’t comfort her. He offers no parting words or words of warning to me to take care of her. He just looks at her and then motions for his men to leave, following them through the doors and out of the church.
Eve is still watching them when I press a firm hand to her lower back and push her forward down the aisle. She is reluctant for a moment before she gives in to the inevitable. The church around us is eerily silent, everyone watching to see what will happen. I walk Eve all the way up the aisle, and she begins to turn like she is going to sit in a pew, but I keep pushing her. When she realizes where we are going, she digs in her heels, but I don’t let her. I want her to see what her father did. I want her to see why we are joining together. What our marriage will stop.
