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I was lost in his blue eyes, and in his imposing, intimidating demeanor. God, he was big, tall and muscular, broad shoulders and a hard body that couldn’t be hidden behind his leather jacket, dark shirt, and black jeans.
I felt dizzy, woozy even, as if I were staring directly into the sun but unable to look away. Of course I felt fear. But it was more akin to being afraid of the unknown and not so much that he’d destroy me. Although I wasn’t confident the latter wouldn’t happen.
“Amara, I’d like to officially introduce you to your fiancé, Nikolai Petrov.” My father’s voice was even, slightly saccharine. And Marco Bianchi could have never been called sweet or amicable.
I had no doubts these two Russians knew the type of man Marco was, the things he’d done, the lengths he’d gone to get what he wanted. I knew they were well aware of this because they were all one in the same.
My father was brutal and savage in all aspects of his life. That’s how he’d gotten into the position of Capo of the West Coast Cosa Nostra.
I glanced at my father once more, watching as he tipped back the rest of his bourbon. I had a feeling that wasn’t his first and certainly wouldn’t be his last. From the little I knew about the Cosa Nostra and Bratva, I was aware of the tension that had always been between them, the decades long war and strife, vengeance and revenge always seeming to go back and forth.
All the blood that had been spilled by both sides.
And as I saw the glossy look in my father’s eyes, the slightly tint of pink to his cheeks, I wondered if this was what my father looked like when he was happy as he sold-off his daughter in a power-play.
It was just one of the many questions I’d never get an answer to.
I nodded even though no one asked anything of me. I wanted to ask when the wedding date was, and how soon we were talking, but I knew better than to open my mouth and voice that.
The sound of liquid being poured into a glass told me my father was getting a refill he didn’t need.
And during all of this Nikolai and I held eye contact. Just a look from him made me feel unbalanced and nervous… bared so that I couldn’t hide anything from his knowing gaze.
“Don’t you want to know when our wedding is?” Nikolai’s voice was a deep rumble. Although he had an American accent, I did pick up on a slight Russian one, almost inaudible aside from when he pronounced certain words.
“She’ll go along with whatever date is set,” my father answered and I looked at him, seeing him staring down into his bourbon, a scowl on his face.
“I didn’t ask you,” Nikolai said in a deep, dark tone.
I snapped my head in his direction, feeling my eyes widen. People didn’t speak to Marco that way, least of all in his own home.
The room became deathly quiet with the only sound being that of the crackling fire. I let my gaze slip to Dmitry and saw him smirk just as he brought his glass back to his mouth and finished off his liquor.
“I was talking to my future wife. My fiancé, Marco.”
I bit the inside of my cheek as Nikolai used my father’s first name, something that would be deemed as disrespectful in his eyes. But my father said nothing, and although I could feelthe coldness blasting out of him, his anger tangible, his silence meant one thing.
He was afraid of Nikolai, of what this man, his organization could do. The power they wielded.
“Well, go on girl. Answer him.” My father’s voice was clipped and I could feel his gaze on me although I didn’t look at him.
I twisted my fingers together in front of me, knowing I should probably take a submissive stance and lower my head in respect, break eye contact with Nikolai, yet it was as if he were silently willing me to meet him head on, to not back down. And that had a surge of sureness and my own power moving through me.
Show him I was stronger than people gave me credit for. And so I straightened my spine and tipped my chin, holding Nikolai’s gaze and seeing his expression clearly showing approval coupled with a little tilt at the corner of his mouth as he smirked.
“Don’t you want to know when we’re getting married, Amara?” He asked again and I suppressed a shiver at the sound of my name falling from his lips, his Russian accent seeming thicker now as he rolled those syllables around.
I felt slightly ashamed and uncomfortable for feeling a flash of desire at that, especially standing in a room with two strangers and my father. And I quickly realized just being in Nikolai’s presence made everything else fade away so I didn't really care about anything else or what anyone thought.
It was liberating.
I licked my lips and found myself glancing at my father as if instinctively being pulled to garner his approval.
“Don’t look at him,krasavitsa.” Although Nikolai’s voice was stern and demanding like my father could be, it also held a different note in it.
I couldn’t place it, but I knew it made me feel a certain kind of way that had my thighs clenching together and my face heatingeven more. And I did find myself obeying, staring once more at Nikolai, feeling everything else fade away.
“Answer the question for me.” He took a step forward and although he was only a few feet away, I could smell the spicy, dark scent of whatever cologne he wore.
