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Each boy returns the gesture with a firm, confident shake. Realization glimmers in their eyes, and I wonder if they hadn’t put two and two together about Bianka’s ties with the Shulaya Bratva before. Or perhaps they just recognize me from the brief encounter we had at Rosehill College last year around this time. When their father all but warned me not to get too comfortable in their territory. If they go running back to Daddy after today, things could get ugly fast.
I force a smile, trying to maintain a polite facade as I rein in my frustration with Bianka. “If you gentlemen will excuse us, I need to have a word with my sister. In private,” I say, casting a sharp look her way.
Bianka’s blush returns in force, and her eyes drop to the floor. She knows she’s in trouble.
“Of course. Take your time,” one twin says.
It’s nice to see the two brothers who’d been rough-housing so immaturely the last time we met know a sense of decorum. I give a nod, then grasping Bianka’s elbow, I drag her toward one of her apartment’s spare bedrooms that she’s been using for her office. Glancing to be sure the twins have settled back on the couch, I close the door behind us.
“What’s your deal?” she demands, pulling her arm from mine as soon as we’re alone.
“What’s my deal? What are you thinking, having Lorenzo Marchetti’s sons in your living room? Do you have any idea what kind of fire you’re playing with?”
Bianka crosses her arms and pops her hip in a classic display of sass that sets my teeth on edge. “It’s fine. The they’re nice–”
“Are you doing this to get my attention or something? Because messing with the Marchetti family is dangerous, Bianka–”
“Not everything is about you, egghead,” she snaps, her arms dropping to her sides.
The insult knocks me back on my heels, and I raise my eyebrows in surprise.
“I didn’t seek them out and plot to befriend them just to piss you off or anything. They took an elective theater class last semester that I happened to be in, and it turns out they’re pretty cool–certainly entertaining.” The corner of her mouth quirks up in amusement, making me worry that she’s really not taking this seriously. “We’ve hung out a few times this summer. It’s no big deal. I’m not going toignorethem or anything because their last name happens to be Marchetti.”
My hands clench into fists as I fight to keep my temper under control. “You need to be more careful. You should recognize you’re in the Marchettis’ territory, and that they have the power here. You could be putting yourself in a vulnerable position, and I might not be able to protect you from it.” My words come out more a growl than I intended, but the tension in my chest is making it hard to contain myself.
Bianka laughs, the sound light and airy compared to the heavy feeling in my gut.
“Ilya, you need to calm down. Take a breath. Relax. Nothing’s going to happen, okay? Lucca and Cassio are just college kids like me, not crazy mafia bosses like you.”
The tendons in my jaw pop as I clench my teeth, willing myself not to say something I will come to regret. But after knowing just how much a person can lose over crossing a territory line, I don’t know how to just let it go. As aggravating as Bianka can be, I can’t stand the thought of something happening to her.
“You’re infuriating sometimes,” I hiss. “Do you know that?”
Bianka smiles. “It’s part of my charm.”
“You need to stop interacting with the Marchetti twins. Immediately.”
“You might be the big bossman and all, but I’m not a member of your Bratva, Ilya. And I’ll do what I want.”
A snarl rips up my throat. I need to get out of here before I totally lose control. Yanking the door open, I make a beeline for the exit without a word. I can sense the twins’ eyes on me, but I don’t look back, not until I’m safely in the elevator.
So much for taking my sister for a night on the town, like I’d planned. What she really needs is someone to smack some sense into her, but I can’t bring myself to discipline her. At some point, I might have been able to convince her mother to ground her, but Bianka’s well past that age now. Somehow, I feel like my indulgent affection for her has created a monster, one I have no control over any longer. All I can do now is hope she doesn’t get herself killed during the dangerous game she’s playing.
I debate my next move as I open my car door. I’d intended on spending the rest of the day with Bianka, but now my schedule is suddenly free. And I need to blow off some unexpected steam. My thoughts turn to Whitney, who I haven’t seen in over a week. Before I’ve fully made up my mind, I’m on my way to her apartment. At least she knows how to take my mind off of things.
14
WHITNEY
Dressed in a thigh-high dark-gray halter dress, I lean forward to apply my typical cat’s-eye liner, admiring the way the thin lines of silver running through the dress’s fabric catch the light. It’s a perfect club dress, light and form-fitting so I won’t get too hot but also stretchy enough that I’ll be able to move with ease. The scoop-neck cowl neckline is also perfect for going braless, which is a necessity with the low back. I run my mascara brush through my lashes, adding the final touch, then stand straight to assess my look.
Someone knocks on my front door, and I glance at the clock on my phone to check the time. It’s still too early for the twins to be here. I frown, wondering if they might not have changed their minds and decided they want to grab dinner before we head to Danza.
“Coming!” I call, padding barefoot across my apartment toward the door.
I pull it open, and my heart skips a beat as I take in the sight of Ilya’s tall, muscular frame, his brooding expression somehow making him look more like a model than a mob boss.
“Ilya, hi. I… didn’t expect you.”
