AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“I don’t understand how this woman is becoming a problem for us,” Kirill’s second man says like he has a choice in the matter. “She will marry Kirill Stepanov. That’s the end of the story.”
“Not quite,” I state as all three men exchange glances with one another. “Kirill couldn’t even do us the courtesy of coming here today to share his side of the story. Rolando, you sure you want your precious daughter marrying a coward?”
I can tell my words threaten him, which is hilarious. He knows I am right; he knows he shouldn’t have Nina marry him.
“May I ask,” I say, pushing myself off the couch I was relaxing on, “are you making Nina marry the man to solve your ill . . . manners?”
I took the risk, and I’m immediately rewarded. His lips press into a fine line, almost disappearing. A clenched jaw tells me everything I need to know. Did he commit a crime against the Stepanov family? Is that what all this is about?
For the life of me, I can’t connect the dots between the Stepanovs and the Romanos. I’ve spent the past hour wondering how they even came into contact.
Maybe Rolando believes sending them his prized possession will get him out of the hole he dug himself. The only reason he agreed to Nina’s deal was because he was waiting for the perfect opportunity. Sure, he could find a reasonable man for her, but that wouldn’t benefit him as much as making a deal through the marriage. I’m not sure what the deal is, but I will be figuring it out. It involves Nina, so it involves me now.
What is it about men feeling like they carry all the power in the world? They think their actions carry no consequences.
“We will not speak of the matter, Giovanni,” he says, gripping the sides of his desk. I pushed a button, and I’m glad I did. Maybe my cousin will finally be able to get it through his head that he married into the wrong family. Rolando will never stop using his family as payment.
“But we will,” I say as I stand up.
“Here’s the plan. Every Stepanov will return to Russia, out of my sight, otherwise I will continue to get involved.”
I walk over to the corner of the room and refill my glass with a shot of liquor. I hear each voice fill with anger as I interrupt them every time they try to say something.
“You will assign someone to watch over your daughter. She will make her appearances at our gatherings as planned.”
The alcohol is warming, burning my throat. “I will hold off on my duties in Sicily to make sure you uphold this . . . deal.”
I turn to look at them. They all seem frustrated. Carlo’s on edge, but I think he appreciates my attempt to get Rolando’s head out of his ass.
“Sound good?”
“That’s fine,” Rolando says.
My eyebrows raise in shock. I knew I would be able to get my word in, but I didn’t think I would be leaving this room without putting a bullet in Kirill’s second man’s head.
“Stepanovs leave. Or I promise I will get more involved,” I say, heading toward the door.
A win for me.
5NINA
The entire day passes by me quickly. After the conversation I had with my brother, I feel discouraged to do anything.
He is taking me to the doctor’s tomorrow to get on the pill. He told me there isn’t much he can do about stopping the marriage, but he can help me in this case. If anyone finds out I’m on birth control, I could lose my head.
Normally, other people wouldn’t have to worry about things like this. The awareness of my new life sinking in makes me ache.
The life I spent nearly two years creating is crumbling uncontrollably.
“Nina, get off the couch! You’ve been wasting there all day,” my mama yells at me from the kitchen.
I direct my attention toward her and let a groan escape my lips.
Even though she is in the kitchen cooking something for dinner, I can still see her perfectly. The house is open concept—Papa built it just for her. They may argue a lot, but she always gets her way with him.
He was all for building this house in New York because of how well clubs do here in the city. I didn’t find out that reason until a couple of years ago. Mama has always been the one who cares for her daughters too much.
I was born in Italy, as was my sister. I lived there until I turned five. Papa brought too many men into the house, which made my mother mad. She never wanted my sister or me to grow up with Papa’s work surrounding the house—quite literally. There used to be many men keeping guard with huge guns. One drive by our house and one would think it was a prison.
