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Andrei isn’t here. I arrived at Casanova a few minutes early, foolishly hoping I could have a drink with him before we started our poker game, but he was nowhere to be seen. Just as well. My father’s death has put us in extremely dire straits. As my uncle Renzo, the new head of the Caruso family, pointed out, we desperately need allies, and I need to marry to secure those alliances.
It’s high time my stupid infatuation with the Sidorov prince ended. No, not prince. King. This year, while I fought for survival, Andrei took over the Sidorov Bratva from his father. According to the rumors, it wasn’t voluntary. Vadik is still alive, but he’s been banished to a village far away from Moscow, along with his wife, and Andrei Sidorov rules in his place.
“Steal?” Lola raises her eyebrow. “Tell me more.”
Antonio shakes his head. “It’s not that interesting.”
“Oh, come on, Antonio.” Ciro leans forward, a wicked gleam in his eyes. “You’re being entirely too modest. His wife, the lovely Lucia, stole a painting that had been in Antonio’s collection since he was sixteen. A Titian. But when she got back to her apartment with her spoils. . .” He pauses for dramatic effect. “Antonio wasthere.Waiting for her. In herbedroom.”
“I was not in her bedroom,” Antonio protests, looking like he wants to be anywhere but here for this conversation.
“But the rest is true?” Lola asks. Her voice turns sly. “I didn’t realize you were in the habit of marrying women who steal from you.”
“He isn’t,” Dante says, trying to hide his smile as he defends his boss. “Lucia was the exception.”
“I’m quite offended we weren’t invited to your wedding,” Max gripes. “And now Dante is getting married, too.” He shakes his head wryly. “Two couples in less than a year. I hope it’s not contagious.” He turns to me. “We missed you this summer, Mira.”
“It’s been a difficult year.” That’s putting it mildly. As Andrei predicted, Giovanni Castella found out in March that Aldo Caruso was responsible for sinking theSaturniaand killing his youngest son, Luigi. He vowed vengeance. My father was gunned down the same month, as was my uncle Armando and his son, Vito. He would have continued targeting the rest of the family—my sister Elisa, my uncle Renzo, and my cousin Davide—but I was able to negotiate a peace treaty with the help of Ariana Castella, Giovanni’s eldest daughter.
It wasn’t cheap, and it wasn’t easy. We gave up trade routes, money, and territory in exchange for our lives. It’s hard not to be bitter. Everything the family built for generations, my father destroyed with his greed and his hubris, and now we’re in a fight for our very existence.
Max gives me a sympathetic look. “But you’ve survived it.”
“For the moment,” Ciro interjects.
I jerk my head up. “What does that mean?” Who’s after us now? Who wants us dead? “Is there another threat I should know about?”
“Yes,” he replies. For a change, Ciro doesn’t play games with information. “Your uncle Renzo. Why is he the head of the family?”
I frown. “Who else should it be?”
Andrei walks into the room just then. My heart leaps in my chest at the sight of him. He looks just as big and powerful as he always does, but his eyes are tired. Weary but resolute. He looks the way I feel—like life hasn’t been kind to him since the last time we met, but he’s not going down without a fight.
Or maybe I’m just imagining it. Even as my family has struggled for survival, the Sidorov Bratva has thrived. Andrei has made smart, strategic alliances with Ciro in Milan and with Lola in Barcelona. He’s made inroads into Algeria and is in talks with the Colombians. Life hasn’t been unkind to him since he sidelined his father, not at all.
Andrei must have caught the tail end of our conversation. He answers before Ciro can. “You,” he says bluntly. “It wasn’t Renzo who walked into Castella territory, alone and unarmed and emerged with a peace treaty. It wasn’t Renzo who bought those struggling olive fields around Catanzaro and now controls a third of the olive oil exported from Calabria, and it wasn’t him who spearheaded the aggressive expansion into online gambling. It was you.”
I don’t know if I’m pleased that Andrei knows so much about my movements or alarmed. “You give me too much credit,” I say mildly. “Renzo is the oldest member of our family. It’s only proper that he leads it.Youmight not understand?—”
“Because I pushed my father aside in my rise to power?” His lips twist. “I was born into this world, Mira, and more importantly, I chose it. I understand it very well, and I know what needs to be done to survive. To thrive. I see no need to hide who I am.” His eyes are dark. “Renzo Caruso is not the tactician you are. These are deep waters we swim in, and he doesn’t have what it takes. He will drown, and if you bend your knee to him, he will drag you down with him.”
I take a deep breath. Ignoring him, I address Helen. “We’re all here, and I really want to win Signor Sidorov’s money. Please deal.”
CHAPTER5
MIRA
When the game is over, I’m five million euros richer, most of it won from Andrei. I should be ecstatic; I’m not. Last year, I wanted to win so I could escape from my family. This year, I’ve realized that escape is impossible.
My sister Elisa is in love with Manuel Biraghi and wants to marry him. The Biraghi are one of the founding families of the Spina Sacra, the mafia outfit that controls Puglia. The family is old-fashioned and dogmatic. Everything is about honor. The way Sandro Biraghi, Manuel’s father, sees it, Aldo Caruso betrayed an ally, and the stain of his actions falls onto us. He will never allow the marriage to happen, not unless I sweeten the pot.
For the kind of money it requires to secure Elisa’s happiness, I’m going to have to marry Dominic Palermo. It’s only a matter of time.
The room slowly empties out until there’s only Andrei and I left. He breaks the silence first. “Are you okay?”
“I’ve had better years,” I say lightly.
“Do you miss your father?”
