“Yes,” I tell her, kissing her cheek. “It’s what I want to do.”
Swap thatwantforhave, and I’m not lying.
“I have this sense,lisichka.” Svetlana gives me a searching look, patting her heart for emphasis. Her nails are hot pink today. “Something does not smell right. You are certain this has nothing to do with Misha?”
I hate how close she’s gotten to the truth, as much as I hate deceiving her.
“Something doesn’t smell right?” I make a show of sniffing myself to lighten the moment. “Do I need deodorant?”
Svetlana chuckles as I knew she would, but then it fades. “You didn’t answer the other part of the question.”
Her accent is heavier now, and I know she means business.
I sweep her into an impulsive embrace, needing the comfort of her familiar softness without being able to ask for it. “It may seem like we’re rushing into this, but when you know, you know. We didn’t want to wait.”
“All I want is for you to be happy. It is what your mother would have wanted for you.”
I doubt my mother would have wanted me to be forced by my brother to marry into the Mafia. But Svetlana can’t know that part. Not now, not ever.
New tears sting my eyes. “I am.”
“Then you have a dress to put on.” She withdraws from me gently, busying herself with getting the gown hanging nearby, still zipped in its garment bag.
But I saw the wet tracks down her cheeks, saw her smudged mascara. I wish I could tell her everything, but it has to be this way.
Painstakingly, we get the designer gown out of its protective shell. The gown put Misha back twenty grand, but he didn’t say a word about it to me. I obviously should have spent more, but there wasn’t time to get a custom gown made, so I rolled with the most expensive one I could find off the rack.
As Svetlana zips up the low back and I face myself in the mirror, I have to admit that it is a gorgeous choice. Too bad it’s being wasted on a wedding that will be undone as soon as possible. It’s a hideous waste of money, and the broke ballerina in me is appalled. I’ve never accepted any of Misha’s financial help until this dress. Since he’s essentially sold me to the Andrianis, he owes it to me. But I still know his money is coated in the blood of everyone he’s killed to get to where he’s at.
“It fits perfectly,” Svetlana praises. “Oh,lisichka.You are the image of your mother.”
Her compliment fills me with pride. Like Svetlana, I wish my mother were here. But then, if she’s anything like Svetlana says she was, this sham of a wedding would have broken her heart.
Before I can say anything, there’s another knock at the door. This time, it’s Misha.
“Are you ready?” he asks sharply, sounding annoyed. “It’s time to go.”
I’ll never be ready. Not for what he’s forcing me to do. But I can’t say that.
“I’m ready,” I call back to him, amazed at the way my voice doesn’t waver.
I give Svetlana a final squeeze, and then I walk out the door to whatever is awaiting me.
Scorpion
I’mat the cigar bar on the patio at Priest’s place, glass of Macallan dangling from one hand and a premium Cuban in the other, when Dmitri Sidorov approaches the circle of Andriani and Revello capos around me.
The wedding is over.
I’m a married man.
And I trust my new brother-in-law as far as I can fucking throw him.
“Sidorov,” I greet him coldly.
It’s the first time we’ve spoken since everything went down. Once, he was my closest ally in the Bratva ranks. Until he disappeared without a word of warning. Now, he’s a wild card who’s doing his brother’s bidding. Whether out of loyalty or coercion, I’m not sure. It doesn’t matter anyway.
“Scorpion.” His light eyes flick to the capos surrounding me. “Can I have a word?”