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She can’t love me. The danger that’s coming for us is my fault, and even if Viktor can handle it, there always might be others. I’m a part of this world, a part of the world of the Families, mafia and Bratva and Kings, Yakuza and cartel, and it’s a world Sasha should be free of.
She’s suffered enough already.
When enough time has passed that I’m sure she’s asleep, I walk down the aisle to the bedroom, carefully opening the door to look in on her. She’s curled on her side, her cheeks sticky with tears, her face flushed, and her hair tangled around it. I want so badly to go to her, to reach out to her and touch her, soothe her, but I know better. If I do, it will only make things more complicated in the end.
I know that the time in Italy, just the two of us on the estate with no one else but our security, will be torture. I’ll want her as badly as I ever have, and there will be this to contend with, too–what we feel for each other, but can’t give into. But I have to keep her safe.
It will likely mean more blood on my hands before the end. But I’ll do anything to protect her.
Even from myself.
I walk back down the aisle to a seat, leaving the bedroom for her. I lean back, closing my eyes, and I dream fitful dreams of neon and rain, a man’s voice pleading, and blood on my hands.
And through it all, Alexei’s voice whispering, haunting me, murmuring,“Aren’t you afraid of your God?”
The answer is always the same, as I cut away his finger.I would be, if I thought God was in this room.
In the dream, the rain keeps falling. But the blood on my hands can never be washed away.
—
When we land in Italy, Sasha emerges, her face freshly washed and her hair pulled back in a ponytail, and she changed into clean clothes. Her expression is carefully blank as she joins me, peering out the window, but it abruptly changes as she sees Italy beyond us.
“Oh my god,” she whispers. “It’s beautiful.”
There’s a car waiting for us, and I stick to the original plan–to take her to lunch in the village before we continue on to the estate. It’s a gorgeous summer’s day, and I can feel some of the tension draining out of her as we drive with the top down, the warmth of the sun suffusing us both.
“I always wanted to travel,” Sasha says with a laugh. “I guess now is as good a time as any to start.”
Her laughter eases me a little, making me think that maybe this won’t be as bad as I feared. I can see her relaxing the longer we drive. As I turn onto the cobblestone streets that lead into the quaint village outside of the estate, I can see her eyes go round.
“This isincredible,” she whispers, staring at me. “This is where we’re going to be staying?”
“Well, we’ll be at the estate a little ways from here,” I tell her, laughing. “But this is the closest civilization, yes.”
I park the car, and as I come around to open her door, I can’t help feeling a hint of unease. I tell myself it’s just paranoia–that the entire purpose of coming here was that no one would know.It’s just that it feels strange being back here after so long.I was eighteen when I left, and I’d only come back twice–both times for funerals. After my father’s death, I hadn’t been sure I would ever return.
After my brother’s, I’d been certain I wouldn’t. But I’d been wrong.
I lead Sasha down the street to a cafe I remember, and we sit down in the sunshine. I order for us both in fluent Italian, and I see her eyes go round, a hint of desire in them, but I let it go by. I’m determined not to let the temptation get to me here–to ensure that I don’t make the same mistakes again.
To make sure that I’m focused on protecting her, not wanting her.
“Will we be able to explore?” Sasha asks, looking around the plaza. “This place is so beautiful–”
“Maybe a little, once we’re settled in. We want to stay secluded at the estate for the most part, though. Today is fine, as long as we just eat and then leave, but we don’t want too many people knowing we’re here.”
“That makes sense,” she says agreeably, but I can hear the hint of disappointment in her tone.
“You’ll love the estate,” I promise her. “It’s beautiful. There’s so much to show you.”
She perks up a little, a small smile on her face as the waiter delivers her salad and glass of wine. “I can’t wait to see it,” she says softly, her eyes meeting mine for just a moment–and then she quickly looks away. It feels like a dart to my chest, but I ignore the sharp jolt of pain, telling myself it’s for the best.
In time, she’ll come to realize it, too. Especially once she understands more about me.
I have no illusions that I’m going to be able to keep all my secrets from her here. They’re going to come out–one more reason I’d been hesitant to bring her here with me, and when they do–
She’ll understand why I’ve been so certain that we’ll never work.
