Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 76222 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 381(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76222 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 381(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
For a split second, I thought about betrothing Claudia to the older Petrov brother—Dmitry. But I pushed that fucking thought out before it had time to fester.
The fucker was in prison, for God’s sake, and the last thing I needed was another one of my siblings tied to that Russian family.
“When is the first meeting?” she finally asked, and I held in my surprise that she wasn’t still fighting me on this.
But she knew how this world of ours worked.
I was silent as I thought about her words and my next play. Because the truth was… she wasn’t going to like my answer.
“Tomorrow night.”
Her eyes widened, and her mouth dropped open. Immediate regret filled me when she covered her mouth with her dainty hand. God, she was going to cry, and it was all my fault. I held my hands up in surrender. “It wasn’t my call. Carmine told me personally.”
As much as I hated taking orders from anyone, someone in the Cosa Nostra sure as fuck didn’t ignore an order from the higher-ups.
“I don’t….” She closed her eyes and took a very audible, steadying breath. “Who is Carmine?”
“Carmine Lucchesi. Head of Italy,” I said without hesitation but couldn't mask the tightness in my voice.
She said nothing, but then again, there wasn’t anything to be said. After a second, she gave a sharp nod, stood up, and left my office without a backward glance or another word.
I sat there for a long time, feeling my anger rise.
Then, I stood and walked out and continued through the front doors.
I didn’t have any clear idea where I was going. All I knew was I needed to kick someone's ass—and get good and whipped myself—so I could sleep later.
Because, right now, I was running on fumes and liable to kill the first person who looked at me wrong.
8
TATIANA
My apartment was eerily silent when I stepped through the front door.
There were no guards, and that told me my brothers were already here.
I stood still for a second and just listened, keeping the door slightly open behind me, since my survival instinct told me to do so in case I needed to make a quick escape. Which was foolish because I was safest when I was with my family.
Although I knew the air conditioner wasn’t on, there was a chill surrounding me, as if I were stepping into a meat locker.
I took my time taking off my shoes and jacket. I set my purse on the little table by the door, then my keys on top of it. I was stalling, hesitant to move forward to where I knew my brothers were waiting for me in the living room.
But they didn’t say anything. They didn’t call for me. Didn’t tell me to hurry up. They waited patiently, as if they were predators hiding in the brush, anticipating the thrill of pouncing on their prey.
When I couldn’t stall anymore, I took a deep breath and headed into the living room. It was when I rounded the corner that I saw Nikolai sitting on the couch, his appearance seemingly relaxed as he leaned back and had one booted foot propped up on my coffee table.
Dmitry leaned against the wall as he stared out the window overlooking the city. I was twisting my hands together, knowing my nervousness was undeniable. I wondered if it was like a neon sign above my head.
He’d been in prison for the last five years, serving time for being connected to an underground fight ring—amongst other things. He’d recently gotten out, and although it was a joyous reunion to have my eldest brother back, things had gone back to “normal” instantly.
And by normal, I meant Dmitry and Nikolai running the Desolation Bratva with iron fists, cold hearts, and vicious weapons.
Well, things were normal aside from a stark difference in Dmitry, one I couldn’t place, and one I knew didn’t have anything to do with him being in prison. I just didn’t know what it was, but it… changed him in some way.
As if hearing or reading my thoughts, Dmitry looked over his shoulder at me and gave me a once-over. His expression remained stoic. I knew I didn’t have to say one word for him to know everything I was thinking and feeling.
A muscle in his jaw ticked as his gaze landed on my throat and then again as he dragged his focus up to my eyes. Everything felt so swollen and achy, like someone had repeatedly punched me in the face.
Nikolai had yet to look up at me, but I could hear him playing a game on his phone. I knew he wasn’t really interested in it but did it as a distraction so he wouldn’t go out to destroy shit.
I could read my brothers as well as they could read me. I guess it was our Petrov blood.