AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Ilya proved a solid strategist himself,” Nico says lightly, glancing up from his plate as he joins the conversation. “And his men certainly are skilled fighters–as is he.”
It’s a strange balance of grudging respect and actual appreciation. I can tell it’s a strain on Ilya to walk the fine line of cooperation without giving up his authority, and Nicolo seems willing to bridge the gap. Especially since Ilya helped get me back when he didn’t have to.
“As for the timing of my sister’s marriage….” Ilya poses delicately, and now I see more clearly why he hasn’t quite let go of the tension bunching his broad shoulders. “I insist that Bianka finish her education and graduate before getting engaged formally.”
It’s a bold move, one that will allow Bianka and me a more natural time to reach that milestone, and I respect Ilya for protecting his sister’s freedom in that choice. Still, it’s a risk. My father could easily see it as an attempt to weasel out of the agreement that Bianka had made without hesitation.
I hold my breath, waiting for my father’s response. “Very well,” my father agrees after a long moment. “So long as they’re married before the end of next year.”
Ilya nods curtly, and Bianka and I exchange a look. It’s beyond weird to have my father and her brother discussing the timing of our wedding. But if that’s what will allow me to be with her, I’ll take it.
The wedding date doesn’t matter to me. I knew from the moment she asked if I was serious about her that I would marry Bianka without hesitating. She’s the girl of my dreams, the only person who really sees me for me. And she’s the most fascinating, wonderful person I’ve ever met.
Our look shifts into a humorous exchange, matching smiles spreading across our faces. After all, we’re both stuck with our crazy mafia families. This result somehow feels fitting to our circumstances. Still, somehow, we’ve managed to maneuver through it better than I thought possible.
Things move on to lighter conversation once more as the negotiations for our marriage seem to be settled. Whitney and Anya share a few humorous stories from their first year as professional ballerinas, playing off each other as they shed light on the art form that I know absolutely nothing about aside from the one Rosehill performance I went to see with my siblings years ago.
Silvia’s much more in tune with ballet, it seems. Not surprising since Anya’s dating Nico, who spoils our kid sister in everything. He probably brings Silvia along to all of Anya’s performances.
“I have to say, though, my favorite story of the year is how Clara became an accidental addition to our dress rehearsal,” Anya jokes lightly, brushing her fingers through Clara’s dark curls.
Silvia blushes profusely, immediately catching my interest.
“I’ve not heard this story,” I say, leaning forward and flashing my sister a teasing smile.
Silvia glares at me, her color intensifying.
Anya laughs lovingly, the sound soft and warm. “Silvia very generously offered to babysit Clara for me since my aunt couldn’t that day,” she explains. “But, like her father, Clara has a mind of her own. Don’t you?” she asks Clara, lightly chucking her daughter under the chin.
At age six, Clara seems daunted by speaking to the whole room. Shrugging, she explains quietly, “I told Auntie Silvi where I was going. I just wanted to see your costume.”
“Well, you did that, didn’t you?” Anya laughs again before returning her attention to the rest of the table. “She slipped away from Silvia and made it to the stage, but with all the makeup on, she ended up mistaking the prima ballerina for me. I think it was a shock for both of them. Our prima did not expect to find a little girl clinging to her tutu when she was supposed to be going on stage.”
Chuckles issue around the table at the thought of a little girl apprehending a prima ballerina in the middle of her dress rehearsal. I would almost feel bad for Silvia’s apparent embarrassment if it weren’t such an adorable image. And even my sister can’t help but giggle.
“I feel absolutely awful about it, Anya.Still,” Silvi insists, pressing her palms to her cheeks.
“Don’t.” Anya reaches around Clara to give Silvi’s arm an affectionate squeeze. “If anything, I think it’s helped me. My prima has been far more willing to mentor me after that day. So in the long run, I think you really helped me.”
“Seriously, Sil, if you couldn’t keep Clara from her mom, no one could,” Nico adds affectionately, always ready to come to my sister’s defense.
Just then, Alfie, my father’s butler, enters the room and leans in to whisper something to my father.
“If you’ll all excuse me for a moment,” he says, rising from his chair. “Apparently, I have an urgent call.”
The conversation dies as we watch him leave the room before resuming more quietly. When he returns a few minutes later, his face is inscrutable.
“Everything alright?” Nico asks, setting his silverware down as our father resumes his seat at the table.
Don Lorenzo doesn’t answer right away, and the table falls silent, all eyes shifting to him nervously as he purses his lips, then levels a scalding gaze in my direction. Whatever the call was about, he holds me fully responsible.
“That was the Matron of the Veles.”
Shit.
“She said that if the Marchettis and Popovs want peace, we will need to pay for it.” His gaze shifts to Ilya, whose fist white-knuckles the fork in his hand. “One of the daughters from our families will have to marry her son to establish an alliance and ensure nothing like what happened in New York occurs again. She conveyed that she’s tired of fighting but will continue to wage war on both of us unless we are willing to confirm a contractual peace through marriage. She’s given us twenty-four hours to decide.”
My hackles rise as it seems like every set of eyes in the room shifts to Bianka. The room falls deathly quiet.
