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“Nothing to concern you.” The pointed look silently urged Bogdan not to pursue the matter.
Vanya stared into space, lost in thought. What if they all had made the wrong assumption? They knew that Luciano was involved with Janos Smirnoff before his death. He had even managed to turn Gabriel Dalca, the Guzun Group advisor, against them. It had come to light that Janos had long ago set him up to infiltrate the Guzun family as a child—his own child, illegitimate but still his own flesh and blood. Gabriel had befriended the Guzuns at middle school—around the same time Andrei had arrived in Moldova at the age of twelve.
That Janos had harbored such an intense grudge against Viktor, their father, and used innocent children as pawns in his quest for revenge seemed unfathomable, yet it was precisely what he had done. This elaborate scheme had been unfolding over the course of decades, only coming to realization in the past couple of months.
Vanya’s concentration was severed by the abrasive sound of Luciano’s voice.
“That is a bald-faced lie, and you know it. We had this conversation before, and here you are again, daring to accuse me of rape,” Luciano snapped in between bites of his food. “As far as my recollection of that night goes, our little adventure was entirely consensual.” He cocked an eyebrow in protest while stifling a sense of amusement tugging at the corners of his mouth.
“Isn’t that right, my dear? I mean, wasn’t that the reason you remained at my villa afterward and agreed to become my fiancé?”
Lips curling with disdain, she sneered, “You have a warped memory,nemernicule,”
“Nemernicule? I’m afraid my Romanian is a little rusty, but by the sound of it, I doubt it’s a term of endearment. Tut-tut-tut. You’re slipping, Ms. Guzun. What happened to the unfazed woman who kicked me in the balls not so long ago?”
“Give me time, and I’ll be sure to repeat the pleasure.” Vanya had to dig deep to calm herself as his insult sunk in. It served as a stark reminder of the liability she had become to the Guzun Bratva and her family.
But that’s in the past now!
Letting herself be ambushed by morbid self-pity—abetted and reinforced by her own prodigious appetite for drugs and alcohol that fed an addictive personality—brought her to the threshold of absolute ruin from which there was no chance of redemption. It was too easy to mindlessly step off the edge and let go—to stop the madness and pain—which was why she had dug deep to summon up the reserves needed to do battle with her demons and return once more to become the ruthless Bratva Mafiosa she had always been.
“You’ve broken an age-old tradition and offended my family, Maranzano, by visiting our sister without our knowledge or our permission.”
Vanya whirled around in surprise at the unmistakably familiar voice that suddenly resonated through the room.
“Arian!” Disregarding her brother’s stern expression, Vanya sprang to her feet and hugged him in an uncharacteristically warm gesture. At that moment, she had never been happier to see her two siblings. Ordinarily, she wouldn’t be fazed by the notorious Sicilian mobster, but in her current weakened state, she harbored a lingering fear that he could easily overpower her—not necessarily physically, since instinct would kick in to fight, but emotionally she was a mess.
“I didn’t expect to see the two of you here this early,” Luciano grumbled in an irritated tone. He shifted uncomfortably under Arian’s stare.
“Why would you?” Vadim shrugged as he bit into a crispy piece of bacon. “Or have you been keeping tabs on us, dear friend?”
“Come now, Vadim. Don’t be a sourpuss.” Straightening his shoulders, Luciano continued eating. “There’s no need to be jealous that I visited Vanya first. In case you forgot, we’re business partners. I am merely here to discuss the specialized wine she’s developing for my hotel group.”
He appeared to be unperturbed at their intrusion, but Vanya wasn’t fooled. The taut lines of his jaw gave away the tension he was trying to hide. The appearance of her brothers had clearly put a damper on his reason for visiting her.
“You’ve broken an age-old tradition and offended my family, Maranzano, by visiting our sister without our knowledge or our permission.” Arian’s voice resonated through the room, setting the tone for his presence. His words were still echoing through the room when Vanya impulsively threw herself into his arms in an unfamiliar display of affection that caught him off guard.
In the world of the Guzun Bratva, outward displays of tenderness and care had always been frowned upon by their father. Such emotions openly expressed were perceived as weakness for those who bore the Guzun name. They were known for their unwavering familial bond, whose power and ruthless business acumen were unmatched.
Even though Andrei had warned him about his presence, Arian’s sixth sense had gone on high alert the moment his eyes locked onto Luciano. Their silent arrival had granted him a brief window to scrutinize the man.
Maranzano exuded an unshakable self-assuredness as he brazenly taunted Vanya. His attitude was a stark departure from his previous interactions with her, especially since he had made his intentions clear, not so long ago, to marry her. Now, more than ever, Arian sensed his erstwhile friend had been deceiving him for far longer than he had suspected.
His thoughts turned to Andrei. Where did he fit into this puzzle? What was the nature of the connection between him and Luciano? Arian vividly remembered Andrei’s strong aversion to Luciano. In the past, he had never made a secret of his deep-seated hatred for the man.
Although he suspected Janos Smirnoff had a shady undertaking with Maranzano, Arian didn’t believe Andrei would have continued with the association once he became Pakhan of the Red Bratva.
What he wouldn’t give to know what information Andrei had on the Mafia Don. More so, what made Andrei so assured to think Luciano posed a greater threat to Vanya than himself—the very man who had once vowed to end her life?
Still, when he felt the slight tremor of her body against his, Arian wrapped his arms around Vanya for a rare display of affection as he listened to Vadim spar with Luciano. His voice darkened dangerously as he continued with the stark warning at the uninvited guest.
“Not too long ago, arriving here unannounced would’ve been seen as an egregious act resulting in the wagging of tongues and the slandering of a woman’s reputation. We could talk ad infinitum about the Madonna whore complex prevalent among misogynistic men toward women and how they categorize women as being pure, like their mothers, with all the rest being sluts… whores. Unfortunately, this attitude toward women subsequently destroys relationships. You know where this is going, don’t you?” He grimaced, but his expression remained cold, and he remained unconcerned about Luciano watching him in surprise at his unexpected aggression.
“Satisfaction in the form of a correction would be needed to rectify this aberrant mindset, such as a public apology, for instance. And if that wasn’t forthcoming, then harsher methods—for example, putting out an eye, cutting off an ear, a nose, hacking off both thumbs—would’ve been the method used to forever identify the misanthrope, so that wherever he went, the entire village would know who he was and what he did.” Arian was enjoying Luciano’s discomfort more than he should.
“We aren’t so medievally-minded these days but we, my people, still hunt down and surgically castrate malevolent, swaggering bulls who get out of their shit-stained penis and trample upon the code of honor. Blood must be shed because that’s what it’s all about in the end, isn’t it? One’s flesh and blood?” Arian scoffed. “This is an ironclad tenet from ancient cultures, and you, being a Sicilian,mio cumpa, should know this by heart. I am very tempted to seek satisfaction for myself and my family with a proportionate response of my own. You have dishonored us. How am I supposed to respond now that you are in my house?”
“I thought this was Vanya’s house?” Luciano said in his usual self-righteousness.
