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In wars, the most respected generals are the ones who know when it’s time to call it quits. To sound the alarm of retreat. Those people are intelligent enough to pick the battles that will ultimately help them to victory. I’m glad Roman is one of such people.
His jaw is tight as he signs the documents that effectively seal his sister’s fate while also ensuring our partnership. It’s pretty clear he’s not happy about it. But being in charge means making hard decisions.
Once we’re done affixing our signatures, I get to my feet and stretch my hand for a shake, which he grudgingly accepts.
“I look forward to a fruitful alliance,” I tell him.
“Yeah, yeah,” he mutters. “Hurt my sister and you’ll regret it for the rest of your life. Which I guarantee will be painfully short.”
The threat is delivered in a cool, assured tone. I smirk.
“I’ll take care of Rosa.”
He nods, blowing out a breath and running a hand through his hair. We’re the only ones in here. Roman’s left- and right-hand men are nowhere to be found, and Jase is waiting for me back in the car. I study him for a few seconds.
“Any reason you’re this wrought out?”
His gaze meets mine sharply. “Apart from the fact that I feel like I’m selling my sister?”
“That’s stupid. She’s not cattle to be bought or sold.”
“Said by the man who’s quite literally buying her,” Roman says dryly.
“Does she think that? That she’s being sold? I imagine you told her about the arrangement and got her permission before signing the contract. How does she feel about it?”
Roman pauses. “I wouldn’t know. She hasn’t spoken to me in a week. Not since I told her about it. She agreed, but I can tell it hurt her to do so. She’s been avoiding me, and I’m not sure I’m ready to face her either.”
Sympathy swirls within me. For him. While I care about my family, I’m extremely removed from their feelings and emotions. I barely know them. Isabella and I might have grown up together, but my leaving as a teenager signaled the end of any form of relationship we built. I wasn’t around for the birth of the twins. So, while we may call ourselves family, there’s no inherent bond.
Roman doesn’t have that luxury. He can’t afford to be callous about their feelings because he loves them, which further solidifies what I’ve always known. That love is a weakness. Or perhaps a luxury I can’t afford.
“I’m sure she’ll come to terms with her situation soon enough. Especially since she’ll have to move in with me later this week,” I state. It was one of the conditions I expressed upon completion of the deal.
Roman’s dark gaze cuts sharply to mine. I arch an eyebrow at the expression on his face.
“I haven’t told her about that yet,” he informs me. “I’ll leave that task to you. She’s your future wife, after all.”
“Hmm. And when do you suppose I tell her?”
“My daughter’s birthday is tomorrow. You’re invited. It will give you a chance to meet the family, and you can talk to Rosa as well.”
I nod. “Alright. Then I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”
The De Lucahome is a large mansion, secluded in a neighborhood that grants them privacy and a sense of safety. It’s eerily similar to the Russo home. The house is simple, understated, with smooth walls and modern furniture. There’s a lot of art around the house, mostly sculptures and clay figures. I’m drawn to them, pieces I’m sure were made by Rosa. It’s amazing that her hands can create things as intricately pretty as the vase in front of me. It’s inside a show glass with a few other similar ones lining the walls. There are paintings mounted, as well. Some bear her signature, others I guess must be purchases.
Her love for art is a clear difference between us. I’ve never much cared for it or tried to understand it. But she seems to do so, deeply. I’m still staring when I feel a presence behind me. I turn slowly to find none other than Elena Legan, soon to be De Luca. She doesn’t even try to mask her dislike for me. It shines in the flare of her green eyes.
“Hello,” I say.
“Save the pleasantries,” she tells me, holding a hand up. Her gaze trails from my face to my outfit—a three-piece black suit. “You were aware of the dress code, were you not,cognato?”
Her tone is hard as she refers to me as her brother-in-law.
I shrug. Roman did inform me that it was an all-white party. I take in her white dress with a small smile. “I don’t wear white. It’s bad for my reputation,cognata.”
It’s cute that we’re already calling ourselves such familial names when I’m not even part of the family yet.
“And what reputation would that be? Because, frustratingly enough, no one seems to know much about you. And you’re going to be marrying one of my best friends.”
