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Alya liked to get ridiculous romantic notions from time to time, and there was no way in hell I was going to let her have one about me and Elia. But I couldn’t deny the passion between us. It wasn’t just the kiss either. Elia was a perfect match for me in bed, and I was eager to exploit what we could do under the covers.
“This isn’t a fairy tale,” I reminded her. “It’s a business contract, nothing more. A business contract that makes no sense, but a contract nonetheless. I’m duty-bound to honor it. You know this.”
“You put all your thoughts into worrying about all the wrong things.” My sister smirked. “All you have to do is to be a good husband to your wife, Alyosha. That’s all. Why bother yourself with thoughts of these endless schemes?”
Because if I don’t, Uncle Misha walks away with everything that should be mine. And then nobody will be safe.I wanted to yell at my sister, but I held my tongue.
This whole thing had been forced by my uncle’s hand for a reason. I wasn’t blind to the fact that he wanted something out of this union. For that reason alone, I had to keep my guard up. I had to be vigilant.
But Elia’s face kept popping up unbidden in my mind. When she told me she was nothing more than a pawn in her father’s game, something in mewantedto believe her. What if she was telling the truth? What if she really didn’t know anything? What then?
“Besides,” Alya continued, popping a piece of bread into her mouth and chewing. “Elia is a Tarallo even if she carries our name. She isn’t about to forget what you did to her brother, and you won’t make it better by being an asshole to her.”
Chapter Eighteen
Aleksey
I sat in my office, the glass of whiskey half-finished and long forgotten as I pondered everything in my head.
As much as I hated to admit it, I knew that Alya was right. A part of mewantedto continue to treat Elia indifferently. By all rights, we shouldn’t even be in the same room together. And as much as I felt her hunger in the way she met my kiss, I wasn’t about to start letting down my guard with her. Alya might believe that Elia wasn’t about to kill me in my sleep, but I was not as naïve.
But she was just as resigned to our inseparable union as I was. Just as resigned to the fact that happiness in marriage wasn’t something either of us had in our vocabulary. Elia had been raised just like Alya and I had. Power was the only currency that we traded in, and marriages like ours were how power multiplied.
But still, why make a union between two feuding families? Two feuding families that would have preferred never to cross paths again?
Suddenly I wished that Father was still alive. I wanted him to explain his plan to me. Heknewwhat I had done to the Tarallo heir. HeknewI had killed Luca Tarallo. Yet if Uncle Misha was to be believed, Father still wanted me tied to Elia.
If Uncle Misha is to be believed,a voice whispered in my head.
I fucking hated it. I hated not knowing what plans were coming down the pipe, and something told me my wife felt the same way.
Still, I had woken this morning with her taste still on my lips. The kiss that had fucking wrecked me last night left me wondering what the hell I really did want from her.
Could this marriage turn into something meaningful? Could Alya be right in thinking that Elia would one day move past the fact that I had taken her brother’s life and see me as someone important in her life?
What do you think I felt on the day when I learned of our marriage? When I was told that I would spread my legs for the man who murdered my brother?
Those words continued to haunt me. Because I knew that there was no way that I could be someone she would forgive.
Let alone someone she could love.
I straightened my legs and grabbed my cell phone, thumbing through the numerous texts and emails that commanded my attention. Just because I wasn’t in New York anymore didn’t mean that I wasn’t still dealing with the fallout that was happening there.
There was always something to handle, deals to negotiate, and people to keep in line. Lana Keller and the DA’s office were cracking down hard all across New York. More and more organizations were being swept aside and broken up in Berkowitz’s ruthless fight to stamp out crime. It would have been admirable if I didn’t run the risk of becoming their main target once they’d taken out the loud, the brazen, and the dumb.
And while I trusted Father’s brigadiers and people like Boris to do their jobs without attracting attention, I couldn’t help feel just a little paranoid about everything.
My father used to say paranoia was a weakness that I would understand one day, but I reminded him that I was just like him. He always kept tabs on even the smallest details. He was the one who would randomly show up to ensure that his orders were being carried out to the letter.
And I hated it. I fucking hated his interference, as if he didn’t trust me enough to do the job myself. From an early age, he had taught me how to become him. Yet he had never once trusted that I could actually do it.
And now he was gone. I had put my blood and sweat into my time in New York, and I wasn’t about to let my uncle come in and fuck up what I had built. There were things I had done to ensure our family’s survival, to cement my legacy on the way to the top.
But New York was the least of my worries. Now that Uncle Misha was about to marry my mother, the game continued to change. He had married me off to Elia for a reason. A reason thathewould profit from, not me. I was sure of it.
I continued to ruminate as I left my office, got in the car, and headed back home.
Tapping my phone on my leg the whole way, I watched the skyline of Chicago—familiar yet utterly alien due to my time away—pass by the window. Elia had sworn that she was nothing more than a pawn in the same game I had been thrust into.
