AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Vittorio glances towards Dante, who is prowling in a dimly lit corner like the freakish little ghoul he is. “There is such a thing as being too happy, though. Women have many desires, not all of which can be encouraged. I heard you went to France recently, dear daughter.”
“Steady,” I whisper to Bee out of the side of my mouth.
“Just for a few days, Papa.”
Vittorio doesn’t even grant Bee a glance. He just sits back and runs a hand over his massive paunch. “I never let my women out of my sight. Even when they are not with me, they are watched. Women are fickle things, Dmitri. They have weak minds and even weaker control of their urges. You must not allow her to run rampant, yes? You are pakhan. You are the man. You must show her where the power lies.”
He flicks his gaze over to the bored twenty-year-old who’s twirling a lock of golden hair between her manicured nails.
To my eyes, she looks like a child.
To Vittorio’s, she must look like prey.
“Look at my little dove,” he purrs. “So pure, so pretty. That beauty must be protected, yes? For if she disobeys me, is it not my fault for making her feel like she has the option to do so?”
The only way I manage to stand there and tolerate his nauseating speech is by picturing me throttling him, my hands locked around his neck as the life melts out of his eyes.
One day. Perhaps even one day soon.
“We have an announcement to make!” Bee blurts without warning.
I glance at her in alarm. “Now?”
“Yes, fucking now,” she hisses to me. “Before I murder him in front of everyone.” Then she plasters a smile on her face and raises her voice. “I’m pregnant.”
Vittorio’s eyes bulge. “Pregnant! You’re sure?”
Bee nods frantically. Too frantically, in my opinion. “Positive. We had it confirmed yesterday.”
“Ah-ha!” her father cries, heaving himself up to his feet for the second time. He toddles forward and clasps my hand, forcing me to let go of Bee. “See?” he spits at me as if his own daughter isn’t standing well within earshot. “I told you that you could fuck those disgusting urges out of her, did I not?”
Bee flinches next to me. When I peer over, she’s got her lips pressed together in a thin, brutal slash.
“This is great news,” Vittorio exclaims loudly. “I’m sure it will be a boy. A grandson! A continuation of my legacy.”
“Your legacy?” Alberto drawls, eyeing me with a dagger-like stare. “Seems to me that our alliance with the Russians means that this baby is a continuation of the Egorov Bratva’s legacy.”
Vittorio’s smile doesn’t drop, but I can see how it freezes on his face, an icy rictus of fake joy. “Pah! Nonsense. Come! Let us celebrate with dinner, with good food and good wine. We can toast to my grandson.” He clicks his fingers to the clueless blonde behind whom Dante is prowling. “Come, my pretty lamb. Lead the way. You are so much prettier when you are in front of me.”
She sashays to the dining room, switching her hips as she goes. Vittorio follows, slaving like a rabid wolf, and the rest of the sycophants fall in line behind him. Only Bee and I hang back a little.
“Jesus Christ,” she gasps, as if the air in here is thin and lacking. “That was worse than I expected.”
“You did it,” I say quietly. “You can do this, Bee.”
“Without killing him? I’m not so sure.”
“I am. Do you know why?”
She looks me deep in the eye and in that one glance, I can see just how much weight she’s carrying. She’s lived under her father’s shadow for too damn long. “Why?”
“Because I’ll be right here with you.”
20
DMITRI
Zanetti dinners are unbearably long and tortuously boring. Conversation revolves around two primary topics. One is the glorification of the white, Italian, Catholic male, who is surely the finest of God’s many creations, to hear Vittorio tell it.
