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“Of course.”
Nico offers me his elbow, and with his support and strength, I manage to round the corner leading to the stairs. The wide mahogany banister and stairs that run the length of the foyer before curving to meet the marble entry make it feel like a grand entrance as we descend.
“Nicolo, Silvia, perfect timing,” my father says smoothly, his voice as soft and deep as my brother’s. “Let me introduce you to the Matron Veles and your betrothed, Pyotr.”
Pyotr turns to face me for the first time as I step down into the foyer.
My heart skips a beat.
His gray eyes are captivating, so light they’re almost silver, and they shine down on me like the moon. His gaze is curious, unassuming, and that subtle smile spreads into a brilliant grin as he takes me in.
“It’s a pleasure to finally meet the Marchetti Princess,” he jokes lightly, his subtle Russian accent sending a shiver up my spine. “And an honor to have your hand in marriage.” Stepping forward, he takes my free hand in his warm, large one and leans over it to brush a kiss across my knuckles.
Just like some prince charming straight out of the books I love.
My breath catches in my throat. I swallow hard as heat climbs up my neck to pool in my cheeks. “The pleasure’s mine,” I gasp, my stomach quivering with a strange new nervousness that lights my skin on fire.
His eyes flick up to mine from his bowed position, and the laughter in them tells me he knows exactly what he’s doing. He’s enjoying turning me into a puddle of mush, a giddy school girl. Something I had never pictured myself being.
Rising to his full height, Pyotr remains close to me as he turns his attention to Nico. I’m shocked to realize he’s as tall as my brother, though he’s just nineteen–like me. Releasing my fingers, Pyotr extends his hand to Nico, and they shake. The look of poison on my brother’s face tells me he’s far less taken by the Matron’s son than I am.
I can’t say I blame him. It’s only been six months since the Veles kidnapped my older twin brothers’ girlfriends–now fiancées–and nearly killed my brother Cassio. Not to mention, the Matron is the one who proposed I marry Pyotr rather than declaring war on our family.
“May I escort you to dinner?” Pyotr offers me his elbow with a charming smile.
I glance at Nico tentatively, and he gives me a subtle nod of encouragement. Sliding my hand out from the crook of my brother’s elbow, I take Pyotr’s arm with my other hand. His suit is crisp, the fabric made of fine material. And it hardly masks the impressive muscle beneath.
Doing my best to maintain composure, I let my betrothed guide me, following my parents and the Matron toward the back of the house and into the window-lined dining room. Through the picture windows, our pristine backyard and well-maintained garden overflow with blossoms. Riccardo, our gardener, has done a beautiful job with it this year.
The sturdy dark-wood table holds enough space for our large and ever-growing family dinners along with guests. The dining room is spacious enough to fit several china cabinets that feature rare antiques–some family heirlooms, others acquired during my parents’ many travels.
Glancing up at Pyotr as we walk, I’m struck once again by his strong, handsome face and his polite charm.
After the tension that’s developed between our two families, I’d half expected him to be a monster. I’d been prepared for the worst, ready to face a villain of the lowest variety. With months of building anticipation, my imagination had given my husband-to-be a beastly face with red eyes and cruel fangs. I’d braced for hateful words, threats, and maybe even physical violence.
Now, I’m struck dumb by my reality.
Anya’s already in the dining room as we enter. She’s getting her and Nico’s daughter, Clara, settled at the table. Pyotr pulls out the chair across from them, offering me a spot near the head of the table, and I accept it. He even tucks it in for me, like a true gentleman. Then he slides into the seat beside me.
My pulse quickens as our elbows brush accidentally.
Everyone’s nearly settled before the twins finally arrive–Lucca and Cassio–with their fiancées, Ellie and Bianka.
“Nice of you to grace us with your presence,” my father observes dryly, leveling a cold gaze on my older twin brothers.
Ignoring my father, Cassio eyes the Matron with open hatred. His lip curls in disgust as he pulls out Bianka’s chair.
I like my brother’s fiancée. As the sister to one of Chicago’s most dangerouspakhans, she carries herself more like a princess than I ever will. She’s fiery and outspoken, an amazing singer and actress, and can keep up with Cass’s relentless pranks.
Not that anyone would think he’s got a sense of humor from the look on his face right now.
Visibly pale beneath her freckles, Bianka clearly doesn’t want to be dining with my future mother-in-law any more than my brothers do.
“I hear congratulations are in order,” the Matron says, smug humor curling her severe lips. Her gray eyes shift between Cassio and Bianka. “It seems the Marchettis have gained several new allies in recent months. That’s wonderful.”
Sitting unceremoniously, Cassio meets the Matron’s gaze. “I suppose you expect me to congratulate your son on getting engaged to my sister. He’s certainly getting the better end ofthatbargain.” He leaves it at that, not actually offering congratulations as he stares her down.
“You’ll have to excuse Cassio,” Father cuts in. “Try as I might, manners have always seemed to evade him.”
