Chapter 7
CHAPTER
SEVEN
BIANCA
As I lie in bed, one thought alone echoes through my mind.
I failed.
Failed to convince my uncle not to marry me off, and even worse, failed to convince Daniil that I love Jorge, and our union is doomed. He doesn't care, he’s made that clear.
His earlier words echo in my brain. You’re as good as any other wet hole.
That pendejo. Beneath that charming facade, he’s as poisonous as all the rest. A snake dressed in Armani. I won’t marry him. Or anyone for that matter.
As quiet falls, I roll over, leaving the warmth of bed, and slip into the en suite bathroom. With the lights off, I open the lower vanity drawer and reach for the box of tampons I keep stashed at the very back. Thank god for period supplies. There is no better hiding spot.
Digging inside, I find the phone at the bottom of the cardboard box. Sitting on the cool bathroom tiles, hugging my knees to my chest, I make the call. It’s the only thing I can do.
“I am really digging this color on me.” Kira sashays into the room and does a little spin for all of us.
She’s right, the forest green really does suit her well.
I’ve joined all the ladies of the Kozlov clan—Kira and Georgia, whom I had already met, and now I’ve been introduced to Rowan and Alyona.
They flew in earlier this morning, and it was decided by someone—the wedding planner maybe—that they would be my bridesmaids since I have no other female relatives or friends.
We’re now gathered in a suite at my uncle’s home trying on dresses for the wedding tonight. Everyone seems mildly shocked by the turn of events, but they are also putting on a happy face, assuring me how kind Daniil is when I know that to be a lie.
While the others are having their dresses altered, Georgia comes to sit with me, a glass of champagne in her hand.
“Hey,” she says softly, “I bet you could use this.”
“Thanks.” I take the drink gratefully. “I definitely can.”
“I can only imagine how you’re feeling right now. Talk about an overwhelming twenty-hour hours. If there is something I can do to help, just ask.” She squeezes my hand, her eyes shining with kindness I don’t deserve.
Exhaling a shaky breath, I flash her a watery smile. “It has been crazy. I don’t think I’ve absorbed it all yet.”
“I know how insane this all is, but Daniil is a really solid guy. Yes, he’s a swinging dick like all the Kozlov men, but underneath it all, he’s as loyal as they come.
” I release a throaty laugh. Daniil and Andrei do seem to be cut from the same alpha-hole cloth.
“And you're not only gaining a husband,” she says, gesturing to all the women in the room.
“You're gaining a squad. And a pretty awesome one at that.”
Warmth blooms in my chest. If things were different, I might be grateful to have landed in this family. I watch Alyona fussing over her sister-in-law, Rowan’s, dress while Kira takes pictures of everyone, and a wave of sadness bites at my edges for everything I can’t have.
Georgia’s hand covers my own, bringing my thoughts back to the present. “Want me to come to your dress fitting with you?”
“No need,” I insist. “I’m sure you have a million things to do to get ready.”
“Please”—she swats the air—“I can just slap on some makeup and call it a day. I’m happy to accompany you.”
“No.” The word comes out too forcefully, and I quickly plaster an apologetic smile on my face. “I insist you go with the others to get manis. The wedding planner is joining me, anyway.”
“Well, if you change your mind, you know where to find me.”
The next hour is a blur of cake tasting, finalizing the menu, and meeting with the florist to choose my bouquet.
Madeline, the wedding planner, is like a dog with a bone.
She isn’t letting go until all her i’s are dotted and her t’s crossed.
She literally has an army working for her, and the moment she decides something, her little minions scurry off to do her bidding.
I almost feel guilty that so much work is going into a wedding that won’t happen.
Daniil is nowhere to be found, and for that I’m grateful. I’d rather not look at his deceitful face ever again.
Just after lunch, as a team of decorators transform my uncle’s home into a tropical-themed wedding paradise, Madeline and I head to an exclusive designer bridal boutique to get my dress fitted.
I already picked the dress out online, now they’ll do the final nips and tucks to ensure it fits like a glove.
Or at least that’s what Madeline thinks.
A staff of three women greet us as we walk into the luxe store.
Only a handful of dresses are on display, and all of them look fit for a princess.
Or a mafia queen, in this case. A pretty woman in her thirties with hair to her waist and the name Ming on her name tag greets me.
“You must be Bianca,” she says warmly. “The seamstress is waiting for you in the back. I’ll escort you. ”
“Thank you.” I turn to Madeline. “I’m sure you have better things to do than oversee my fitting. Why don’t you stay out here and catch up on all the important details that need your approval.”
Madeline’s eyebrows pull together. “No need. It’s best if I join you.”
I don’t move a muscle. The incessant ding of her incoming messages blares between us.
“I can handle this,” I insist. I’ll come out and show you the final fit.” She looks unsure, but the hard set of my jaw makes it clear I won’t be backing down. She glances at her phone once more as it starts ringing.
“I’ll be right here,” she promises me before turning and answering her call.
Ming takes me to a large fitting room in the back of the store where the dress is carefully hung beside a pedestal and a Japanese folding screen. Ming holds eye contact with me for a moment before nodding and exiting the room.
The moment the door closes, Deidre steps out of the shadows.
Arms crossed in front of her, she looks as cool as ever.
Her braids are tied back in a ponytail, a gun—as always—is tucked away in a holster under her no-nonsense sports jacket.
Seeing Deidre fills me with both relief and a deep frustration that this is still ongoing.
“This is certainly an unexpected turn of events,” she remarks in greeting.
When we spoke last night, I'd only given her the most basic rundown of what happened. Though it wasn’t a detailed account, it was enough to convey that everything we’ve worked so hard for is threatened.
“Are you going to put on the dress?” she asks, gesturing to the elegant Vera Wang hanging beside the mirror.
“Forget that,” I say, shaking my head in exasperation. “You need to get me out of here. Now.”
She folds her arms over her chest, her expression unflappable as she stands stock-still. “I’m afraid we can’t do that. Our investigation into your uncle is far from complete. Unless your life is in danger, I don’t have the authority to transfer you into WITSEC.”
I throw my arms in the air, frustration burning hot under my skin. “I’ve been working with the FBI for two years. I’ve provided you with damning evidence against my uncle and his cartel. How is it not enough to prosecute him or get me into witness protection?”
“Your uncle is careful. He has people help cover his tracks. He has the best lawyers at his fingertips, knows all the tricks of the trade. We need irrefutable evidence if it’s going to hold up in court.
” Her eyes lance through me, piercing me with her uncompromising stare.
“Like I told you from the start, these things take time.”
My stomach twists violently. I don’t have years, my life is about to implode today.
“You said you’d keep me safe,” I accuse. “My uncle is marrying me off to a ruthless bratva head. I can’t help you without access to Jorge and his loose lips.”
“Sit down and take a few deep breaths,” she coaxes, a wary eye on the door. She leads me to a chair by the window and forces a bottle of water into my hand. “Drink this, then tell me what’s going on.”
I drink, but it does nothing to steady my nerves. It’s like my life is unraveling into a nightmare I can’t control. Everything I’ve worked so hard for, sacrificed for, is slipping between my fingers like sand.
“What happened in New York?” Deidre’s calm voice steadies me, and I recount the last twenty-four hours of hell I’ve lived through.
“And this Daniil that you’re to marry, what’s his last name?”
“Kozlov. He’s part of a Brooklyn-based bratva family. They are a big deal on the East Coast. My uncle saw it as an opportunity, realized he’d get more out of an alliance with the Kozlovs than marrying me off to Jorge.”
Her eyes are wide, as if I’d told her the juiciest secret in the world. “I know who they are. The Kozlovs are big-time.” She grabs my shoulders, looking way too freakin’ happy. “Shit, Bianca, this is gold.”
“How is that?” My brows knit together in confusion. “Without Jorge and his nightly rum shots, I won’t have any intel on the Zegas. I’ll have to live in New York. Everything we’ve worked so hard for will be for nothing.”
I want her to nod in agreement, but she’s already off in her mind, scheming up a plan that will not benefit me. Burning awareness sweeps through me. She’s not going to help. “You’re not seeing the big picture. The Kozlovs are a major criminal enterprise. This could be huge.”
I tip my head back in frustration, sighing loudly. “I don’t care about the Kozlovs, I want my uncle behind bars. I want him to pay for everything he’s done.” I pound my chest, blinking back tears.
“I know,” she says, frustration giving her voice a little edge, “but my point is the Kozlovs could be the key to putting your uncle behind bars. Two criminal organizations coming together to start something new. There is bound to be growing pains. People get greedy. Mistakes are made. This is your chance to get your uncle on something that will actually stick. We’ll be able to build a powerful case against both crime families … and you’ll be the key.”
“You’re saying I should marry Daniil Kozlov.” The words fall from my lips in barely a whisper.
She straightens to her full height and crosses her arms in front of her chest. “Yes. We have an opportunity here to put your uncle behind bars and take down another brutal crime family.”
Crap, this is not going as planned. “He’s not going to tell me anything. Daniil is hardened bratva, and he’s not sloppy like Jorge. He’s … he’s …” Brutal, demanding, sexy as hell. “He’s a monster who only wants me as arm candy.”
She smirks and lifts a shoulder. “If he finds you attractive, that’s a good start. You need to use everything at your disposal to get him talking.”
My eyes narrow. “Are you saying what I think you are saying?”
“You’re a beautiful woman, Bianca … charming and clever. I think you understand—to get into his head, you need to get into his bed.”
Squeezing my hands into fists, I try to will away the panic rising in my throat.
I’m a virgin who's barely rounded third base. Seduction is not a tool in my arsenal, but my options are dwindling fast. “And then what?” I ask with a defeated sigh. “Do I pump him for information? Spy on him? Daniil will smell a rat from a mile away. He’s sharp as a tack,” I warn her, recalling how quickly he caught on to Jorge’s poker fraud.
“And so are you.” She pauses as she lifts the wedding dress from the stand it’s hanging on. “You’ve fought so hard for this. Sacrificed so much. Trust me when I tell you revenge is within reach. We just need you to cooperate on this.”
Yeah, I’ve heard that before.
“And the car accident?” I remind her. “The documents that I gave you … Clearly my uncle was involved.” Anguish climbs up my throat, but I swallow the emotions down. Five years has done nothing to ease my pain. It might as well have happened yesterday.
Her eyes flash with sympathy. “Again, all circumstantial. What we need is hard proof that your uncle was behind it. That’s why you can’t give up now.”
My spine goes rigid as she holds the silky white gown up to my body, both of us staring at my reflection in the full-length three-panel mirror. She smiles at the sight while I choke down a scream.
I already regret the next words out of my mouth. “You need me to seduce him …” The words stick in my throat. “Make him trust me? That’s all?”
“For now,” she confirms. “One step at a time. First, settle into your new life. When the time is right, I’ll reach out about the next step.”
I want to ask her what “the next step” means, but Deidre is busy carefully hanging the dress up.
Her lips tip up at the corners. “Let’s hope the dress fits you well because I’m a crappy seamstress.
” She winks and just like that, heads towards the back exit.
“I’ll be in touch” are her final words to me.
Holy shit. I’m getting married to a cold-blooded criminal I just met thirty-six hours ago, and there is nothing I can do to stop it.