The Vendetti Soldier (The Vendetti Famiglia #7)

Chapter 3

I fell in love with his soul before I could even touch his skin. - unknown

Mischa

“ T wins…” Mr. Vendetti murmurs, taking in each of us from head to toe. His wife leans in, and I manage to catch part of her whisper complimenting our bone structure to him. I already met them, but the other night it was only Papa and me, and we didn’t mention how I’m a twin, only that my brother wasn’t feeling well from the flight. Rorik had horrible jet lag from the flight and thought he may’ve been coming down with something. Turns out his sickness was just his nerves, and after some rest, he was fine again. He definitely wasn’t going to miss his chance for a second time to meet any of the infamous Vendettis. We’ve been reading about them our entire lives and watching them from afar; to have the chance to have a sit down with them is beyond our fantasies, and we have my father’s powerful position in the Russian mafia to thank for it.

“Yes. And we’re very close,” I reply, stepping near enough to my brother to loop my arm through his. “Family is everything .”

Rorik chimes in, wearing his usual charming smile, “We share everything. Where my sister goes, I go.”

“Your English is phenomenal, and please call me Violet. It’s an absolute pleasure to meet you; I’m glad you could join us this time.”

Papa beams with pride at her compliments. He loves when his children appear above average in any situation, especially in a country supposedly foreign to us. It’s not, though; we’ve always traveled all over the world and going to college here helped immensely in bridging the final gap.

“We studied business in America,” Rorik offers, and both the Vendettis’ eyes light up with interest. I find it hard to believe they don’t already know all the basics about us. I have a feeling they’ve thoroughly done their homework on as much of my family as possible. Their poker faces are extraordinary, though; they must fool nearly every opponent they come across into believing they’re not already five steps ahead of everyone else in the room.

It takes everything in me to hold back from commenting on how I’m not only a baby-making factory, but I also possess a brain as well. I don’t want to put a sour taste in their mouths, however, so I hold back and paste on a pleasant expression, as my intelligence and capabilities can come into play after I’ve secured one of their rings on my finger.

“I’ve heard you’re a remarkably smart woman, Violet. You were top of your class in university, all while your oldest child was a baby, correct? Learning multiple languages at the same time?” My brother continues to charm her the way he does with practically everyone he comes across. It’s what makes us a good team; I plot various escapades, often stirring up a bit of trouble, and he cushions the blow however I need him to.

“I had to,” she indulges him with a conspiratorial grin. “Matteo was fluent in five languages when we first met. I felt a little out of my element, and when he finally agreed to me attending college, I was all in to learn as much as possible.”

Matteo disagrees, staring at his wife with adoration. “Nonsense, mia Violetta. You were perfecto the first time I saw you, and you prove as much every day.”

Aw.

Okay, that made my heart skip a beat. I love how he can be positively ruthless in the mob business but obviously still able to be sweet on his wife at the drop of a dime. They weren’t quite so open the other night with their thoughts and affections, so Papa and I must’ve made a good impression. Not only did we immediately get invited to return for dinner, but the Vendettis seem much more relaxed tonight.

“Dinner is served.” We’re interrupted by a servant, whom both Violet and the Capo graciously thank. So far, they’ve surprised me. There are rumors of how none of their staff will turn on them, nor the Capo’s men. I thought the stories were fabricated to make them appear untouchable, but I’m beginning to wonder if there’s weight in the words whispered about this family. If it’s truly the case, then they’re the closest to being invincible you can possibly be in the underground world, and marrying one of them will provide me with safety like never before. I haven’t thought of it too much, but I know Papa worries endlessly about having a prince and printsessa in the Bratva. We’re a walking target, always, and any added layer of protection would be welcomed.

The servant leads the way to a lush dining room, the table lavishly decorated with heavy black and white linens. The multiple chandeliers create an ambiance of warmth and beauty as the light shines off the fluted crystal glasses and small china dishes meant for our appetizers. The white and pale pink peonies in the center add a personal touch, telling me Violet had a say in this setup. I love knowing the matriarch of the family literally has her hands in everything; it gives me hope that they will be welcoming to another intelligent woman joining their family.

The Capo pauses before getting to the doorway, “A word, Yuri?” With a nod, he and Papa head down a hallway while we enter the dining room, and I look to Violet for direction.

“There are place cards in each setting, but before we sit, would you like a plate of appetizers? With how big our famiglia is, we eat a majority of our food buffet-style. Dinner will be served traditionally, of course, as you are our guests, but various finger foods have been laid out over here for us to begin with at our discretion.” She gestures off to the side, taking the small plate from her spot to get us started.

“Thank you,” I mutter while Rorik’s gaze takes in the full spread. He’s not one to miss a meal, and oftentimes we stay up watching movies while stuffing our mouths with chips and popcorn. The best is movie theatre butter popcorn with cheese sprinkled on top. I could eat it every day of the week, but my brother swears it’ll make us hate it.

“This looks delicious. Thank you,” Rorik compliments while following Violet and loading his appetizer plate in a heaping pile. I select a small piece of bread that has a chopped tomato-looking mixture on top, a mini kabob laden with cheese, olives, tomatoes, and some thinly rolled meat. Lastly, I add a mini stuffed mushroom and make my way to Rorik, where he gestures I sit at the table across from him, noting my neighbors are Violet and Luciano Vendetti, according to the place cards.

“The famiglia will be in shortly; let’s sit and begin with these while we wait for everyone to arrive.” She turns just enough so she has both of us in her sights. “So tell me, why are the two of you single? Or are you already spoken for, Rorik?”

He glances at me and I nod, giving him permission to answer for both of us. “My dear sister’s engagement fell through because we found her betrothed was betraying our family, which I’m sure you’re aware of as much. As for me, my father hasn’t decided on whom he’d like me to marry yet. I’m sure he has someone in mind.”

“Hmm. And both of you want to marry? You’re ready?”

I nod, meeting her curious gaze. “We’ve gotten our degrees, had a chance to live a little, now we’re going stir crazy at home. We love Papa, but we’re ready to start our own lives and have families with whoever those people may be.”

We’re interrupted by multiple voices, and as the Capo and Papa make their way in, a group of people follows behind. The Capo directs at the closest servant, “Switch Luciano and Santino’s place cards.”

“Sì, Mr. Vendetti,” the woman dutifully replies and hurries to do so. The others stand back, waiting.

My brow raises as I take in the new name beside mine. I wasn’t expecting Santino to be in my vicinity, more like Valentino, although he’s rumored to be cruel, or even Luciano made sense. Perhaps Papa and the Capo changed their minds because Santino and I are the same age? It doesn’t matter to me as long as I get at least one Vendetti, and personally, I think they’re all good looking, but Santino is gorgeous. According to the photos I’ve seen online, he resembles his late mother, and she was stunning.

Watching the brothers move to their respective places, I swear Luciano releases a heavy, relieved breath and for some reason, it irks me. He could do much worse in life than having to marry me. I have a line of suitors vying for my hand; I always have, and if it weren’t for me planting the idea in Papa’s ear, we wouldn’t be considering a Vendetti at all right now.

Santino pulls his chair out, and the moment he sits, a whiff of his cologne hits me. It smells so good it has my pussy clenching, wanting more of whatever he’s got. His pheromones must be insane to affect me this strongly; I wonder if he was working out or something before dinner? He’s certainly bigger than the photos lead on; the man has muscles under his suit in all the right places. “Santino,” he offers with a tilt of his head, voice low but strong, turning and holding his palm to me. I place my fingers in his, and he instantly leans in, lightly kissing my knuckles. “Pleasure, bella.”

Feeling a bit choked up in his overwhelming presence, I manage a soft, “Mischa.” I glance to my brother and notice his head is tilted toward Luciano as they quietly introduce themselves as well.

The Capo remains standing while he doles out introductions, then sits and begins speaking between Papa and Violet. There are no children present, only six muscular Vendetti men along with their four wives, making it a full table and a lot of names for me to remember. Not that I need practice; I’ve been reading about these people for years and feel as if I already know way more about them than what they’d probably be comfortable with. The men cast me curious glances while the women offer me polite smiles and dig into their appetizers once they’re settled. I can’t help but wonder what they think of me. They’ve all been married for a while now, the newest couple being Dante and Emilia, but they’re not here.

The pad of Santino’s thumb gently swipes the skin beside my mouth, drawing my attention solely back on him and making it hard to breathe. He holds it up so I can see, wearing a devastating grin. “You had a little olive oil, and it was taking everything inside me not to lean in and lick it off.”

Lord. I’m going down. A hot flash hits me, my nipples pebbling behind the silky material of my dress at his promised confession, and so help me, I want to put the oil back and dare him to taste me. My thighs shift, squeezing together at my throbbing clit.

Licking my lips, I breathily murmur, “Thank you,” and enjoy how he stares hard enough at my mouth that he has me seriously considering leaning in so he can taste me there too. Please let me be marrying him after all, because if not, I’m never going to be able to stop wanting to jump him all while wearing his brother’s ring on my finger.

A couple of the staff fill our glasses with ice water and the delicate flutes with our choice of wine, asking if we’d like other options. I gratefully accept the closest bottle of wine for mine, tossing back half the glass as I’m overheated sitting next to this gorgeous man. I swear every time his arm merely grazes mine, I break out in a fresh set of goosebumps and want to place his big palm on my thigh. A different servant quickly steps forward to top my wine off before they all disappear through another doorway. I notice a symphony piece playing low enough in the background, but I can barely hear it. The music does a good job of drowning out any silence while also not being distracting enough for everyone to have multiple conversations around the table.

“Tonight is a celebration,” the Capo says, drawing attention to him once more. All conversation halts as we eagerly listen to the man in charge. If we were in Russia, it’d be the opposite, and Papa would be the one speaking right now, as he rules everything there, it seems. “Where once again, we expand. Our famiglia grows bigger as we welcome another into the Empire .” The brothers’ stares all briefly shoot to me, and I offer a smile I hope appears confident, even if my stomach is doing crazy flips on the inside. I’m going to get what I want. I’ll be the next Vendetti.

He continues, “While tonight was originally planned to celebrate the Blood Oath Yuri has made for Mischa to marry a Vendetti, we were able to make an additional agreement.” The various Vendettis grin around the table, obviously knowing what these oaths mean, while Rorik and I flick our stares between Papa and the Capo. I’m already aware if we marry, I have to give them an heir at some point, so it can’t be the additional agreement they came to about that, which only serves to make me nervous. I was feeling confident going into this, but I don’t like the pleased smirks that are mirrored on both of the men-in-charge’s faces.

I fist my shaking hands and move them into my lap so no one will notice and silently exhale a long breath. As soon as my hand is out of sight, Santino’s fingers find mine underneath the table. He threads our hands together, offering me an encouraging squeeze. It only makes me want to kiss him more now, looking to comfort me when he’s barely met me. For all he knows, I could be a colossal bitch about to make his life hell, but he doesn’t hesitate in letting me know he’s beside me and is obviously pleased being there. I send him a grateful smile and respectfully turn my attention back to the Capo.

“You see, Mischa is a twin . One who is used to sharing everything with her brother. Our frattelli are used to sharing as well.” Several mouths pop open for reasons I’m obviously not privy to. Violet’s expression mirrors her husband’s, smirking like she’s in on a secret the family shares. “Santino and Mischa will wed,” he states, and everyone cheers. My heart beats double time as a wave of relief hits me. “And,” he pauses dramatically, “Luciano and Rorik will wed as well.”

Gasps ring out, and my eyes widen in surprise, training my attention to him.

My brother sputters, while now my jaw is practically on the floor as well. “E-excuse me?” Rorik stammers, shock coating his features. “Papa?” he asks, and our father nods, pride shining toward his oldest son.

“The Oaths were signed,” he says and shows the table both of his hands, where there’s a fresh slice down the middle of each palm. My father actually signed in his blood . “My prince and printsessa will make me a proud papa, joining our family with the most powerful Italian name in America.” He and the Capo nod at each other, pleased smirks firmly in place as they’ve come up with the ultimate power play between both of our families.

Matteo raises his glass. “To Mischa and Rorik becoming Vendetti. Welcome to the famiglia.”

We follow suit, tapping our glasses to our neighbors and then taking a drink. If you’re me and Rorik, then you down the entire glass and nod when the staff quickly steps forward to refill them.

Violet leans in, “Our physician will confirm you can indeed have children, then you’ll get married. We’re all excited to welcome you into our famiglia.”

I immediately start coughing, choking on my own spit in disbelief. Gulping down some water to stay remotely sober in the moment, I stand suddenly. “Ex-excuse me.”

Santino stands with me, keeping our fingers entwined.

I meet his concerned gaze and ask, “Bathroom?”

Matteo’s brow shoots up, but he doesn’t comment on my coughing; rather, he orders, “Santino, see your betrothed to freshen up.”

“Sì,” the man beside me instantly replies, dwarfing me with his large frame.

Does the Capo think I’ll try to run? I’m the one who organized this to happen in the first place. I won’t be going anywhere, especially not until my last name is Vendetti and I have one of their large rocks weighing down my ring finger.

I turn to Santino the moment we’re alone, “I was caught off guard. I’m fine, really, I need a breather is all.” I should keep my mouth shut, but I don’t. I’m blindingly trusting him, which is something I never do. He’s going to be my husband, so I suppose I need to get used to the idea of leaning on someone other than Rorik or Papa.

“The room may be large, but it can be overwhelming at times, especially when everyone’s around the table.”

I nod, grateful he seems to be taking this so well. We stop at the closest bathroom, and rather than going inside, I lean against the closed door. “Santino,” I begin to attempt to explain further, or something, and he takes a step closer, his form blocking me between his frame and the cool wood at my back. “Are you okay with this? You’re not upset you’re betrothed to me?”

He smirks, his irises fluctuating from deep bronze to rich chocolate as desire pools in his gaze. Leaning in, he takes a deep inhale of my hair before shifting his lips lower. His mouth grazes my ear as he whispers, “Upset? On the contrary, I can’t stop thinking about tasting your pussy.”

Drawing in a swift, surprised inhale at his brash honesty, my hand finds the lapel of his dinner jacket, giving it a tug. It’s forceful enough that his chest presses against mine before his reflexes kick in and he can stop himself. Turning my face, my lips graze the corner of his as I murmur, “Kiss me, Santino. Let me taste your tongue.”

With a groan, he’s twisting the handle behind me, shoving us through the doorway and into the powder room. He closes the door with a quick, easy kick, not wasting a moment before his hands are on my hips. He lifts me onto the edge of the sink effortlessly, stepping between my legs as they part to make room for his imposing frame, and then his mouth dives in. I meet him just as ferociously, my body humming with desire for him from the moment he entered the dining room. All of the brothers are attractive, but there’s something about Santino that makes him stand out; the same can be said for Valentino. Maybe it’s the lighter hair and eyes compared to their brothers and father. Based on the pictures we found online, Santino’s features favor his mother while the others look more like their father. Valentino, on the other hand, seems like he’s been adopted, as he’s all light to their broody darkness. He must take after an uncle or something.

The taste of Santino’s lips, warm and intoxicating, has my head spinning as our mouths meld together in a frenzy of lust. His hands, strong and possessive, trail up my thighs and grip the curve of my hips, pulling me to the point of falling off. His firm cock meets my sensitive, panty-covered folds, deliciously pressing against me and keeping me from stumbling forward. The intensity between us is like a minefield, explosions ready to go off with the right amount of pressure. His intensity ignites every nerve ending in my body, and I’m beyond thrilled that he’s as attracted to me as I am to him when he’s going to end up being my husband at some point.

His fingers inch beneath the hem of my dress, the pad of his thumb tracing delicate patterns along the sensitive skin of my inner thigh. A shiver runs down my spine, and I arch into his touch, craving more. I want to feel his fingers all over me, and with his passion, I’m not the only one needing it. Our breaths come in ragged gasps, mingling as he pulls back from the kiss to ask, “Are you on any birth control?”

I shake my head, cheeks and chest hot while my breasts feel ridiculously heavy. “Of course not.” I know better than to take anything when coming into this family. Anyone with half a brain can see how important family legacy is to the Vendettis. Of course they’d want children, expect them even, as part of any sort of formal union. I’ll do my duty, and in return, I’ll gain the affluent position I crave from being a Bratva princess as well as married to a prominent Vendetti. I won’t just be important to the underground crime world; I’ll practically be untouchable. A Vendetti Goddess.

“And you’re fertile?”

I nod, noticing the questions coming from him should, but don’t, raise red flags. Instead, they only serve to make me grow wetter between my thighs. He wants to put his heir inside me, and it’s beyond hot possessing that sort of power.

He exhales, almost as if he’s relieved, and sucks my bottom lip between his. “Good. I’m going to breed the fuck out of you once we’re married,” he promises, his expression a mixture of lust and determination. His words are the last thing I’m expecting him to say, but they serve to make me delirious for him. I nearly beg him to do it right now but bite into my cheek to refrain. I won’t start our relationship with me begging him to fill me with his cum in the bathroom down the hall from our families when our marriage has merely been announced minutes before. “For now, I want to eat your pussy. It’s the only dessert that’ll satisfy me at the moment.” He drops to his knees before me. “Fidanzata.”

I watch, heart thrumming wildly in my chest, as he shoves my dress up to my waist, revealing my lacy red panties. He runs his fingers lightly across my skin, causing a shiver to spiral over my body. My nipples harden to the point they’re poking through the delicate fabric, and I can feel the heat between my legs building. Pushing my panties to the side, he leans close, breathing in my sex. I gasp as his tongue makes contact with my sensitive flesh, the sensation overwhelming me. His fingers deftly part my folds, his tongue delving deeper. I can't help but moan as he begins to tease my clit with expertly placed flicks.

Reaching down, I run my fingers through his hair, urging him on. “Oh, yes,” I breathe, “Please give me more, Santino.”

“Mm,” he rumbles against my folds. “You like it hard?”

I’m nodding several times before I realize I need to use words because he’s full-on eating me out and not paying attention to my passion-drunk nods. “Yes, I want it hard.” His cock too.

At my admission, he spears two fingers inside my depths, and my head falls back. A loud, lengthy moan escapes me as he thrusts me straight into an orgasm. Wetness squirts from me, spraying him, and no matter how I try to stop it, the orgasm continues, as does my embarrassing display of leaking all over him.

As it finally stops, tears crest, and my lip trembles. My flesh burns with embarrassment as I whisper out a shaky apology. “I-I’m s-so sorry. I don’t know what happened. I’ve never done that before. I swear, I’m mortified.” I don’t want to admit as much, but I absolutely have to apologize for this.

He stands, his cock tenting his trousers obnoxiously. “Had an orgasm?”

My cheeks are on fire as I shake my head. “I’ve orgasmed before, but all the wetness…” I trail off, resting my face in my palms as I attempt to hold back from panicking and having a full-fledged cry fest. He’ll be disgusted, no doubt. There go my chances of marrying him; he’ll never want to see me after this, I’m sure.

“Hey,” he says softly, trying to pull my hands away, but I’m too humiliated to drop them. “I take it you’ve never squirted before?” he kindly asks, and I shake my head no. Lord knows I’d remember if that ever happened. He uses a tissue to dab around his mouth, erasing my mess from his face, then peppers soft kisses over my hands and lightly continues to tug. “Look at me, poco zucchero ,” he orders, and my sad eyes meet his. He tilts his head, staring at me tenderly. He grabs a fresh tissue, lightly patting at my cheek where a tear’s escaped. “None of this; you have nothing to be ashamed of. It could be the angle you’re in and the way I touched you. Believe me when I say I loved every minute of it.”

“You enjoyed it? But it got everywhere.” I gesture to my lower half and the wetness still coating my thighs. Thank God my dress was shoved up, or I wouldn’t be able to show my face outside this room until it dried.

Santino grabs a hand towel from the small decorative cabinet off to the side and cleans my legs, carefully running his fingertips over each spot to make sure he didn’t miss anything. “Enjoyed isn’t a strong enough word. It was perfecto . I can’t describe how pleased it made me and how sexy you look when you come. You’re so responsive it has me wanting to take you hard against this wall and see how many times I can make you squirt on my cock.” He presses a quick kiss to my lips and holds his palm out to help me down. It’s not much of a drop with my heels. Stepping to the side, I watch as he washes his hands. They’re manly, big, and veiny, and for some reason, I find that ridiculously sexy. “You feeling better, princessa?” he asks after a beat, meeting my stare.

“Just Mischa to you, not printsessa.”

“Mm, maybe I have a fantasy.” He grins, making my lips twitch into a smile. “Ah, there’s my beautiful fidanzata. Keep that satisfied look on you, bella, it suits you and will drive mio fratelli wild not knowing what it means.”

I need to study the Italian language, I think as I wash my hands, drying them and checking myself out to make sure I look put together. I feel anything except having it together, more like the opposite. “I feel like Jell-O,” I admit, loving the amusement shining in his gaze.