Chapter 6 #2
Two soldiers guarding the elevators greeted us and accompanied us to the tenth floor.
I spotted Dominic De Lucci giving instructions to one of his soldiers, but when he saw me, his entire face flashed in fury.
“Fuck,” Sato muttered.
“Don’t interfere. He’s allowed one punch,” I said.
“You son of a bitch.” De Lucci charged just as a door to his right was opening.
“Dom, don’t!” Lucy shrieked.
I leaned away just in time for his fist to glance off my cheek. What? Like I was going to let this fucker break my nose?
“Stop it!” My future bride rushed to her brother and grabbed his arm before he could swing again. She glared over her shoulder just as Moretti appeared. “Don’t you dare cause a brawl in my building, Zio!”
That was when she finally gave me her attention. “Why are you here?”
I raised a brow. “I thought my presence was required.”
De Lucci was breathing laboriously. Oh, he wanted a piece of me for sure, just as Moretti did. I was secretly gratified that my future wife had such control over these two men. The De Luccis were especially known to be psychotically protective of their women. They also spoiled them.
This would be to my advantage. Sato was right. I needed to act human and not the ruthless bratva boss I’d been trained to be. At least, until I got what I wanted.
“I was handling it,” she snapped.
“Shall we move this conversation inside?” I suggested.
“Just you,” De Lucci said, scowling at Sato.
“Of course.” Then I let my facial muscles do that awkward thing called smiling.
Dom and Luca stalked into the room while Lucy fell back to my side. “Stop that.”
“What?”
“Your smile is creepy; it’s not winning you any points.”
Sato snorted a laugh behind us.
I dropped all pretense and rearranged my face to its usual blandness. “Better?”
“That will do.”
My mouth twitched, and I was in danger of genuinely finding amusement. I followed Lucy into her apartment and nearly backed away from the chaos.
It wasn’t the type of chaos that was a health hazard if you didn’t consider getting a random paper cut from all the stacks of papers strewn around a danger to your well-being. No, it was the stacks of paper. Magazine clippings. Folders. Notebooks. Pens. Markers—how many colors did she need?
“Ever heard of a computer?” I said dryly, closing the door behind me.
Lucy laughed. The pleasure that spiked inside my chest caught me off guard, and I struggled to tamp down that alarming reaction and overanalyze what that meant.
De Lucci crossed his arms, eyeing me with interest. “You should see the room she had in my penthouse. I needed to have a contractor come in and repaint the walls.”
“Do I want to know what you did to the walls?” I asked Lucy.
“I like to write my thoughts on the wall alongside evidence. I have erasable ink, but I accidentally used markers.”
“Accidentally? Or were you too lazy to look for said erasable ink pens?” her brother said dryly. “So you see, Zahkarov. You might want to rethink marrying my sister.”
“I’ll risk it.”
“I’m quite a catch despite my flaws.” Lucy batted her eyelashes.
That was cute. Frequently when women did this, I wanted to put a hood over their heads, but with this one maybe it was knowing she was desiring the opposite effect.
Moretti was pacing the length of the living room with a stick up his ass and not taking part in our little ice-breaking banter.
“Tell me what you want to call this whole thing off,” he stated bluntly. “Money? Territory? More business?”
“I want nothing from you.”
Moretti chuckled darkly. “Bullshit. We all want more.”
“I just want Lucy. Nothing else. No one else.”
“That would sound romantic if it weren’t a lie,” De Lucci snarled.
“How can you doubt my affection for your sister?” I glanced at my fiancée. “Now would be a good time to chime in about how crazy we are about each other.”
“I wouldn’t go that far,” Lucy said. “It’s an arranged marriage, and we both have something to bring to the table that’s beneficial to the other.”
“You’re blackmailing my niece,” Moretti accused. “Admit it.”
Lucy, for her part, had a serene look on her face. I was dying to know what excuse she gave.
“I’d like to hear how you think I’m blackmailing her?”
Moretti clamped his mouth shut and looked oddly at Lucy, who surreptitiously cast a warning glance at her uncle. De Lucci, meanwhile, also caught the exchange, and this time narrowed his eyes at his uncle.
“Something’s not adding up.” He was addressing Moretti.
“You didn’t answer why you’re here in Chicago, at Lucy’s apartment.
You were here before I even arrived this morning.
” De Lucci backed away so he could give all of us an assessing gaze.
The realization on his face would have made me laugh, but I didn’t know what Lucy had told them beforehand.
“This has something to do with Viktor’s and Davenport’s death. It’s too much of a coincidence.”
I was telling myself that De Lucci came to that conclusion because it was unusual for Moretti to be in Chicago and not because he saw through our lies.
“You had Lucy watching Davenport.” De Lucci's accusatory whisper sounded like he couldn’t believe his uncle had betrayed him.
Moretti didn’t say a word, neither did his face reveal anything.
“You…” De Lucci’s shoulders slumped the way disappointment would weigh them down. “I thought you'd changed, Zio.”
“Don’t you dare,” Lucy snapped. “Zio Luca didn’t force me to do anything I didn’t want to. But it’s a moot point. Coincidences happen. I was at the Russian club last night where I ran into Kirill and, believe it or not, we both have something to offer each other in an arranged marriage.”
“But why now?” De Lucci asked.
“To get Margo off my back because of the damn covenant,” Lucy said. “And Kirill needed a suitable wife for his pakhanship.”
Pakhanship? What the hell. My mouth wanted to smile. That was three times now. If this proved anything, it was that I could at least tolerate Lucy as a wife. I might even find her amusing sometimes.
“Oh, and you know, those Amalfi Coast properties?” Lucy added. “We might get them back after all.”
The minx. We had not talked about it.
“We agreed those properties were tainted for being used in sex trafficking and don’t want them back,” De Lucci said.
“Not if we use them to help the victims.” Lucy glanced at me. “We can discuss this, right?”
“Sure, Lusenka. We can iron it out in the contract or prenup.” What the fuck was I agreeing to? Who was I marrying? Mother Teresa?
De Lucci appeared to be considering this. I could see his bullshit meter working, discarding one conclusion before arriving at the next. He turned to Moretti. “Surely you don’t believe this?”
“I’m surprised you hung on to her word this far. And of course not,” Moretti replied.
Lucy sighed. “Do you want to repeat your theory to the group?”
And Moretti did. My chest constricted uncomfortably at how accurate it was. When he finished, De Lucci was glaring at his uncle.
“I can’t believe you dragged Lucy into your shit with Moscow.”
“She’s a fixer, and I have a scandal I wanted addressed. The problem with you, Dom, is you want to take care of everyone and not let them make mistakes.”
“Mistakes? You know how strong-willed Lucy is! And I’m always the one to fix her fuckups.”
“Hey, I’m right here!” Lucy growled. “And there will be nothing for you to fix.”
He stabbed a finger in her direction. “You. Quiet. You’ve done enough.”
“Don’t point your finger at her again,” I said in a level voice but not without a lethal warning that made them swing their stunned gazes to me.
De Lucci stepped toe to toe with me. “What did you just say?”
“Back off, Dom. And you…” Lucy directed slitted eyes at me. “No need to defend me.”
“On the contrary, you’re going to be my wife. Of course I’ll defend you.”
“I’m her brother.” He was grasping at straws.
De Luccis were Catholics. When a woman married, everyone else became secondary to her husband and children.
I delighted in seeing the frustration on his face.
But I knew how to react so they’d believe that I was serious about marrying Lucy.
These men were pussy-whipped by the women in their lives.
They were psychotically protective. It was amusing to see how emotional they got when they lost their power over that security.
A commotion outside pulled our attention to the door.
Lucy walked over and opened it.
Her parents stood there, and Carlotta De Lucci’s eyes flew past her daughter and straight to me.
A wide grin broke across her face. “Is it true, Stellina?”
Well, fuck. Finally, someone was on my side.