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“Since arranged marriages were invented,” Alek dead-pans. “Jesus, the two of you are slow. Maybe Viktor is looking into a peace treaty with D’Angelo and Sartori.”
I let out an incredulous burst of laughter. “Did you knock your head during the fight? There are fucking hits out on Aurora and Abbie’s lives. That doesn’t sound like the bratva is working toward a peace treaty.”
“Whatever is going on, just watch your back and don’t get involved with the woman,” Armani says. “Let’s just do as we’re told and get through the next two years in one piece.”
All this talking hasn’t helped one bit.
Tomorrow I have to train with Aurora.
How the fuck am I supposed to touch her and not get a hard-on? More importantly, how the hell am I going to fight her without hurting her?
Christ, this is a fuck up of epic proportions.
Chapter 13
Aurora
I had another night of almost no sleep after thinking about the training and Misha.
There’s not much I can do about Misha, so I’ve made up my mind to ignore him. Hopefully, the feelings I have for him will die a quick death now that I know he’s bratva and not my Prince Charming.
The training is a problem I can’t escape. I called my parents and told my father about the fight. Instead of being concerned, he told me to suck it up and train hard. He wants me ready in four years to start working with him.
That’s the last thing I want, but I don’t have much choice in the matter.
Yeah, I stupidly thought I’d be a socialite and that, at some point, I’d get married to a man of my father’s choosing. I was okay with it because that’s just how things work in our world.
Never did I imagine I’d have to become some badass person who’d run the family business alongside my father.
It’s insane.
Dressed in a pair of black cargo pants and a t-shirt, I leave my suite and knock on Abbie’s door. When she opens, she looks just as exhausted as I feel.
“No sleep?” I ask.
She shakes her head as she steps into the hallway, shutting the door behind her.
We walk in silence, and only when we reach the stairs does she ask, “Did you speak to your father?”
“Yeah. You?”
“Yeah,” she breathes.
“I guess the conversation went the same as mine,” I mutter, really not looking forward to training.
I look like I ran face-first into a wall, and my broken bottom lip stings whenever I talk.
I’d much rather stay in bed all day long.
“Yeah,” Abbie answers, then she mimics her father, “You have to train hard, Abigail. I can’t have a weakling take over the business. Don’t let me down.”
“Yep,” I sigh. “That’s pretty much how mine went.”
“It sucks.”
Neither of us has any appetite after yesterday’s brutal revelation, so we head straight for combat training.
Dread spins in my stomach. I hope to all that’s holy Instructor Nikolai doesn’t make us fight today.
