Chapter Thirteen
“Has she stopped complaining yet?” Skender appeared at my side looking both irritated and amused. We were only minutes away from the start of the wedding ceremony and corralled in a beautiful drawing room with part of Luka’s family.
“Nope.” I couldn’t stop staring at my brother. I kept expecting him to disappear, to be dragged away by the Beciraj or Raffaelli henchmen skulking about the estate.
He had recently cut his blond hair, adopting a more stylish look with a fade and careless curls. He seemed to have grown taller since I’d last seen him, but I was certain that was only my imagination. Maybe it was his bespoke suit that made him seem bigger
“What do you think it is this time? The menu? The color of the tablecloths? I don’t think our mother’s mouth has stopped moving for one single second.”
He wasn’t exaggerating. She’d had nasty remarks about the historic mansion hosting the wedding ceremony and reception.
It was too plain, too old, not updated correctly.
The delicate floral vines in the garden smelled too strongly.
The chairs for the ceremony were too small, too hard. And on and on and on.
“He’s not helping things any.” I noticed our grandfather hadn’t left our mother’s side the whole night.
“He never does.”
Skender frowned as our mother stopped one of the venue employees and began to berate them. “You’d think she would be happy to have all of her children together again.”
“I don’t think she’s capable of feeling happiness.” It was something I had been thinking about for years. Mostly in therapy sessions. I didn’t have a single childhood memory of her smiling authentically.
“I’d put my money on life beating it right out of her.” Skender regarded her with interest. “I know it nearly did the same to me.”
“Skender.” I grasped his hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze.
“I know.” He offered a lopsided smile before letting go. “Let’s not get maudlin.”
Too late, I thought grimly as I caught sight of Luka. Apparently, he didn’t want to let any of us out of his sight until the wedding vows were spoken and the marriage was sealed. I suppose he wasn’t worried about the bad luck of seeing his bride before the wedding.
Even now, Luka looked full of self-pity, and Dafina moped next to him, looking like she might burst into tears at any moment.
I hate him.
Luka with his stupid face and his stupid eyes and his stupid suit. Just looking at him made me feel sick.
Discomfited.
Fidgety.
Hot.
So what if he was the most handsome man I had ever seen? And, sure, maybe he did have incredible hands that I couldn’t stop looking at every time he was near.
But he was a monster.
He was a killer.
And I hated him. Really.
“What do you think about all of her friends bailing? And she doesn’t even seem to care.”
“I know. That’s what worries me,” I whispered, trying not to call attention to our conversation. “It’s as if she expected no one to come.”
“Maybe she warned them to stay away.”
Boldly, I asked, “Is that why you didn’t bring Lia with you?”
His head sharply turned toward me. He seemed taken aback by the question and maybe even a bit nervous. “She’s busy, and this isn’t the way I want her to meet our family.”
“I can understand that.” I could, but it didn’t stop me from wondering if there was something else going on with this girlfriend I had never met or seen. Was she even real? Or was it something else he was hiding?
Speaking of...
“Skender, that business plan you sent me,” I said carefully, stepping closer and keeping my voice low. “Are you working on that idea alone?”
His brow furrowed. “Why would that matter? Does it change any of the material facts of the property?”
“No, but—.”
“What are you two plotting?” Zec startled us by suddenly appearing behind us like a predator swooping down to snatch its prey.
Not wanting him to ask questions, I played it cool and rolled my eyes at his dramatics. “Yes, we’re plotting your death right now. We’re trying to decide between poisoning the soup course or serving an exploding cake at dessert.”
“Elona!” Skender hissed.
“What? I’m tired of them constantly accusing us of trying to kill them when they’re the ones who wiped out our entire family, held you hostage and exiled us.” Irritated by the whole mess, I tugged my brother across the room, leaving Zec to glare at us.
As we drew near Luka and Dafina, I noticed he looked as looked as if he hadn’t slept in days. He grimaced and absentmindedly rubbed at his chest. Was his stomach bothering him again? Maybe he had an ulcer?
Who cares? I silently chastised. He’s an asshole, remember?
As if he could hear my inner thoughts, Luka angled his head in my direction. Our gazes clashed. I noticed the slow drift of his eyes over my face and then down my neck to my chest.
Why was he staring at me like that? Why was he looking at me like he wanted to see what I had on underneath this dress? Flushed, I glanced away, and when I looked back, he had turned his attention fully back on my sister.
Speaking of sisters, Rina eyed me with distrust. I couldn’t figure out why. It wasn’t as if I had ever done anything to her personally.
Suddenly, my phone started to ring. Face burning, I stammered my apologies while trying to get the tricky clasp of my clutch opened. I finally managed it and ignored my mother’s glare as I retrieved my phone.
I was sure I had set it on Do Not Disturb. There were only two numbers I allowed to reach me at all times—my stepdad and Cheyenne—but they each had specific ring tones. This was a number I didn’t recognize that had called multiple times in a row to override the settings.
But then a message flashed onto my screen. And another and another.
I tapped my screen—and inhaled sharply at the sight of Luka receiving a lap dance from a naked woman.
More photos popped into my inbox, each one nastier than the previous one.
Luka and the dancer were kissing passionately in the last one, and her hand was inside his pants, obviously stroking his erection.
His fingers were between her legs, and the ecstatic look on her face told me everything I needed to know.
Heart racing, I swallowed hard and quickly powered off my phone. I refused to make eye contact with anyone, but my spectacle was quickly forgotten as the wedding coordinator entered and walked straight to Dafina. She spoke directly in Dafina’s ear, alarming my sister with whatever she had to say.
Dafina’s face reddened. “I’ll be right back.”
“Dafina!” My mother called after her. “Where are you—?” She turned to Luka, her scowl morphing into an icy smile. “I’m sure it’s only nerves. I’ll be right back. Excuse me.”
My mother chased after Dafina, and I took a nervous step back as every eye in the room turned to me. Some were curious, others accusatory. Rina was the first to speak. “What’s going on?”
“I don’t know,” I admitted feebly.
“You don’t know?” Rina asked archly. “You expect us to believe you have no idea what’s happening when I saw you checking your phone, like, one minute before your sister ran out of here?”
“It’s not like that,” I insisted.
“No? What was it like then?”
“Rina,” Kristo scolded softly. We’d only spoken briefly a few times yesterday, but he had been sending me encouraging smiles today. At least I had one friend here.
“No, I want to know what’s going on!” Rina shrilly shouted. “These bitches are up to something, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to sit here and get murdered!”
“Rina!” Luka harshly chastised his sister.
“What?” Rina gestured to me, and I gulped anxiously. “Look at her! She looks ready to vomit!”
“I think she’s nervous,” Kristo cut in, “and you’re not helping.”
“I’m not helping? She’s nervous?” Rina scoffed. “I’m standing in a room with the people who killed my father!”
“Rina! Enough!” I flinched at Luka’s angry voice. My adrenaline spiked, and I wanted to bolt.
In the distance, muffled by walls and closed doors, my mother shouted, “What have you done, Dafina?”
Besian, who had been observing the scene from the corner of the room, pulled both Rina and his wife behind him. My grandfather staggered away from my mother, leaving her vulnerable. Skender snatched my arm and shoved me behind him.
The door burst open, and a big, lumpy meathead stormed into the dining room. Dafina raced after him, clutching at his muscled arm. His black Givenchy tee was stretched to the limit, and I didn’t know how the seams were holding. He could probably lift me with one hand and not even break a sweat.
“Dusan?” Luka gawked at the man. “What are you doing here?”
“We were going to tell you,” Dusan said, his accent thick and foreign to my ears. I thought definitely Balkan, but I couldn’t say where exactly. “We didn’t mean for it to happen like this.”
“For what to happen?” Luka growled suspiciously.
“Stop!” Dafina begged tearfully. Her breaths were shallow and short, and I worried she was about to pass out. Her too tight wedding dress was not helping matters any. Earlier, I’d watched my mother lace her into the thing with vicious tugs and pulls. “Stop! Don’t!”
“No!” Dusan firmly said, shaking off her clawing hands. He then wrapped his arm around my sister’s waist and gathered her close. It was an intimate move that silently signaled these two were much closer than anyone in this room suspected.
“What is going on?” Luka demanded.
“Luka, she’s pregnant, and the baby is mine.”
Pregnant?
Oh. Well. That explained everything. The illness, the mood swings, the secrecy, the phone calls.
Was this one of the friends who had treated her well during her earlier visit to Albania? Had she fallen in love with him? A whirlwind romance?
My mother’s wails echoed off the dining room ceiling, and someone—Besian, I thought—dropped a series of F bombs. There was a sudden crash, and my grandfather toppled to the floor, taking a chair and a service of cocktails and canapes with him.
The room erupted into chaos, and across the frenzied crowd, I felt the furious glare of Luka searing my skin. The rage burning in his hateful stare terrified me. I took a step back and then fled for my life.