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I glance at my watch. It’s already taken longer than I’d hoped. My phone buzzes on the desk next to me, and I reach for it, grateful for the interruption.
“Mr. Romano?” It’s my secretary—Carmen, I remind myself.
“Yes?” My tone is even more curt than usual, but I can’t help it. The mix of frustrated desire and eagerness to get this whole messy business done and over with has my temper at the boiling point.
“The jeweler said he will be there within an hour, with a selection of appropriate rings.”
Within the hour.Anastasia doesn’t have long to wrap things up. “Thank you, Carmen,” I reply tightly, and I can almostfeelthe pleasure from my remembering her name wafting over the line.
“Will there be anything else, sir?”
I pinch the bridge of my nose, wishing with everything in me that I could call a justice of the peace to the apartment and be done with this whole mess. But the wedding needs to be a spectacle, something to show the Bratva and anyone who might consider helping them that Sofia Ferretti has been removed from the game.
Check and mate.
“Find out who might be available to dress Sofia for the wedding. They need to be able to produce a gown within a week. The ceremony will take place on Saturday, at St. Patrick’s. Call the cathedral as well to arrange whatever Father Donahue requires.” The last isn’t much of a concern, the good Father has enough of a history with our family that he’ll do nearly anything that I or Rossi ask of him. And since he was the one who was present when Sofia’s father extracted his promise from mine, I expect he’ll be even more inclined to hasten the wedding.
“Right away, Mr. Romano.”
I hang up the phone, checking my watch again. If this goes on too much longer, I might have to go down to the kitchen myself, and—
A faint, hesitant knock sounds against my office door.
There’s no explanation for the knot in my stomach when I hear it. If Sofia still refuses to fall in line—
She won’t,I tell myself firmly. And my anxiety is only due to my eagerness to get all of this finished and done with. It has nothing to do with the girl herself.
“Come in.”
The heavy mahogany door creaks open, and Sofia steps inside.
Her face is pale and her eyes are red-rimmed, but none of it takes away from her beauty. She looks like a princess trapped in a tower, come to beg for her life, and the irony of it isn’t lost on me. Sofia thinks that I’m her jailer, but in truth, I’m the only one standing between her and death.
A knight in somewhat tarnished armor, if you will.
“Is Anastasia still here?”
Sofia flinches at the mention of her friend’s name. “No,” she says quietly. “She went home.”
Good.The girl is brighter than I gave her credit for—she clearly knew when it was time to leave. I can hear the resentment in Sofia’s voice when she sayshome, and I hope that’s a sign that she’s come to accept the fact that she can’t return to her former apartment. That this penthouse, and whatever living arrangements I make for her in the future, will be her home going forward.
“She said you called her.” Sofia’s voice is flat, toneless. She sounds broken, and I know I should be grateful for it. She’ll be more manageable this way. But something inside of me revolts against the idea of her losing her spirit despite myself.
It’s just another sign that I need to get all of this over with as quickly as possible.
“I did,” I confirm. “Clearly you wouldn’t listen to me when I tried to explain the gravity of the situation to you. And I understand, in a way—you don’t know me.” I steeple my fingers in front of me on the desk, watching her from across it. The space between us is good, it helps me to keep this formal. Businesslike. “I assumed that Anastasia might be able to appeal to you in a way that I couldn’t. And from the look on your face, I think that I’m correct.”
“Don’t pretend like you know me that well,” Sofia says, a tiny bit of her anger returning. “I want you to answer one thing for me, Mr. Romano. Something that Ana said I should ask you.”
So it’sMr. Romanonow.I narrow my eyes at her. “Yes?”
“She said that I should ask you what would happen if I don’t agree to marry you.”
Goddamn it.My goodwill towards Anastasia Ivanova evaporates immediately. But if even her friend explaining the threat of the Bratva to her wasn’t enough, perhaps this will be. It’s all that I have left to convince her.
“I’ve already told you who my boss is.”
“Yes.” Sofia doesn’t move to step away from the still-open door. It doesn’t matter, she wouldn’t get far anyway, even if she tried to run again.
