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“Cassio isnotthe clown you see him as,” I reply with conviction, my eyes narrowing in fierce anger at the disdain with which Cassio’s father talks about him. “I would marry Cassio tomorrow if that’s what it takes.” I step forward, squaring off with Lorenzo Marchetti as I lift my chin defiantly.
“You don’t mean that, Bianka,” Cassio objects, stepping forward to wrap his long fingers around my elbow.
I whirl on him, my temper spiking. “Are you protesting because you aren’t as serious about me as I am about you?” I demand, hurt trickling into my challenge.
“No. That’s the farthest thing from true,” he says passionately, his hands sliding down my arms to take my fingers and hold them in his warm grip. “I love you, and if I have to marry you to date you, I will.”
His lips quirk with mild amusement at the statement, but his eyes are intense, vulnerable for what he still has to say. “It’s just, I know we’ve talked about serious stuff and long-term commitment, but I want to make sure those are real things you want with me. Not just dreams that were fun to imagine at the time because you were swept up in the moment.”
God, his concern is heart-wrenching, and at the same time, it fills me with a deep appreciation for his empathy.
“I’d only hoped to spend the proper amount of time proving my love–and intentions–are true. I wanted to earn your love in return, the right way. Not rush it by….” He glances at his father, his tone turning gruff. “Forcing you into something with an ultimatum.”
My heart throbs as he voices his concern. But in truth, I’ve wanted Cassio for so long that, even though we’ve only been in a relationship for months, it feels like I’ve loved him for a brief eternity.
“Cass,” I breathe, cupping his cheek and gently running my thumb along the thin line of his scar. “You more than did that by following me across state lines and single-handedly rescuing me from the Veles–even allowing yourself to be taken prisoner in exchange.”
Cassio’s lips curve into the most beautiful smile I think I’ve ever seen. His hand rests on top of mine as he leans into my caress. Then he kisses my palm with a tender affection that makes my stomach flutter.
“Wonderful,” Lorenzo says lightly, as if we’ve finally made a decision about what dish we’ll be having for dinner. “Now that that’s settled, Ilya, would you and your ladies like to join us at my family estate to discuss it more formally? Perhaps over a nice meal?”
“Of course,” Ilya says, his eyes cutting to me darkly. But whatever is on his mind will have to wait. “Bianka, join me on the ride over. I have something for you,” he says carefully.
I nod, knowing I’ve put my brother in a precarious position I hadn’t been anticipating. “I’ll just change real quick and meet you by the front door.”
Whitney slips into the back seat of the car, allowing Ilya and me a moment to communicate.
And as soon as the door closes behind me, Ilya starts in. “The chances that we might regret this alliance are very high,” he warns, putting his car in gear and steering us in the direction of the address Lorenzo gave him.
“Cassio wouldn’t let that happen,” I insist.
“Just because he has good intentions does not mean he has control over Lorenzo Marchetti’s decisions,” he counters skeptically. “Still,” he adds after a long pause, “if you’re serious about the Marchetti boy, then I’m willing to risk it. He’s clearly serious enough about you after the way he chased you to New York. And Idowant you to be happy.”
“He makes me happy,” I assure him quietly. “And I’m entirely serious about marrying him. He’s the only one for me.”
Ilya’s face softens, though he keeps his eyes on the road. “Very well.”
35
CASSIO
The dining table, large enough to entertain a sizeable party, is actually full for once. As we settle into our seats, I’m surprised at the comfortable ease with which my family and Bianka’s converse.
Lorenzo sits at the head of the table, Nicolo to one side of him and Ilya on the other–across from one another. Next to Nicolo is Anya and their daughter, Clara. Silvia sits beside Clara, entertaining our little niece, her ever-loving, soft-spoken demeanor perfect for the shy little girl who has positively fallen in love with Silvi.
Whitney sits across from Anya, between Ilya and Bianka–who I sit next to. Lucca and Ellie sit across from each other, taking the last available seats. Lucca is next to me, and Ellie is next to Silvia. My mother occupies the far end of the table, her expression distant as she finishes off her first glass of wine in a matter of minutes.
The conversation is light, Anya and Whitney falling into a warm conversation, seeing as they’re both ballerinas who graduated from Rosehill the same year and were friends long before today. The humor isn't lost on me that the girls would be such good friends when their male counterparts, Ilya and Nicolo, have seemed to barely tolerate each other for years.
But surprisingly enough, even Ilya and Nicolo have a cordial exchange. Their tension toward each other seems to have resolved somewhat after having to work together to save my ass from the Matron.
Despite the last-minute additions to dinner, my father’s private chef manages to pull together a venison stroganoff that’s to die for and only contributes to the elevated mood. But after my family’s guests offer the appropriate amount of praise and gratitude for dinner, my father gets down to business, morphing my romance with Bianka into a business contract, like only my father can.
“I imagine we can discuss potential collaborative business opportunities once our alliance is more formally… solidified, but I rather look forward to the possibilities that might open up with our families working more closely together,” he says, turning to Ilya.
Ilya nods respectfully, resting his silverware gently on his plate. “Yes, after working with Nicolo in New York, I find I’m far more optimistic about the potential than I would have anticipated.”
“Nicolo has a keen eye for strategy,” Don Lorenzo praises, looking at my older brother with a modicum of affection I hadn’t realized my father could possess.
