Chapter 48
It’s not only the fact that Serafina decided to break into my room to visit Vanessa; it’s everything she said once I found her here. Everything she countered with. And how she said it. It reminded me too much of Vanessa, and the way she fights with determination and authority.
Vanessa’s refusal to fill in the blanks about their conversation strokes an anger in me that has me reacting before I realize it. My hand snaps out and grasps her chin, forcing her eyes on me so she can see for herself, I’m not playing anymore.
“Do whatever you want with me, Mancini. Makes no difference.”
Oh, I plan to.
I release her with a hard jerk that forces her head to thump against the window pane and retrieve the envelope from my back pocket, shoving it into her hands.
With a cautious pace, she opens the envelope and slides the single document out. After only a brief pass of the certificate—the contract is safely hidden away in my office for the day I possibly need it—her skin goes pale white. Even though it’s not in English, Certificato di Matrimonio isn’t a challenging statement to translate, so I know she’s figured it out.
Checkmate.
“Welcome to your new life, mia moglie .” My wife. There’s something I never believed I’d refer to a Volkov as.
She swallows. There’s a painful beat of both our hearts. The marriage certificate lands at our feet when she drops it. I’m so preoccupied witnessing her slow breakdown, I miss her fist before it’s too late.
Her hard punch lands on my nose, and my head snaps back. She shouts something in Russian before lunging toward me again, and I try to duck this one, checking to see if she’s broken anything with her previous hit.
She quickly follows with another, but this one, I see coming and block. I go to grab her hands to immobilize her, but her next lunge knocks me to the side, and I stumble onto my ass. She’s on me instantly, but since I manage to block her incoming hits, she gives up, instead managing to slip her hands beneath my arms and locks into a firm circle around my neck. Her thumbs press into the base where the skin is the thinnest, and this time, I think she might actually have it in her to kill, so I lift my palms open and to the side, conceding.
“You faked my signature. This time, I will kill you.” Her upper lip curls in a near-snarl, her hands pressing harder. “This was your plan the entire time? Keep me alive so you can marry me?”
“Not at first. You changed my mind, Vanessa.” I stare up at her without fear, hoping she can see the effect she truly has. “I intended to kill you, yes, but you surprised me. Intrigued me. The moment you begged for your people’s lives and not your own, it solidified what I’ve known for a while: that you’re nothing like Ursin. For that,” and other unnamed reasons, “I chose to keep you alive.”
She blinks twice, her anger fizzling out to confusion. It’s enough that her thumbs uncurl from my neck. “What do you gain out of this?”
“Isn’t it obvious? Dead, you satisfy a vow. Alive, your father’s legacy survives but under my command. The Bratva’s mine, Vanessa. You, la mia regina distrutta , are all mine. In sickness and in health. Until death do us part.”
“A vow I can get behind.” Her eyes tighten in the corner. “I will never submit to you, nor will my people.”
“You will submit, Volkov, that I promise you. As for your Bratva, they’ll fall in line once you do. Besides, I’ll need you at the head of most of your businesses, since you have the connections.”
Her hands slam down hard enough, I gasp for air, my hands banding around her wrists and preparing to break her hold. She leans close enough I feel the swell of her breasts from paced breaths. “Give me one fucking reason I shouldn’t end you now.”
“I’m your husband.” Maybe it’s unwise to tempt death when she hovers over me.
“Only ’til death do us part, isn’t that what you said? That certificate,” she jerks her chin toward where it’s lying off to the side, “isn’t valid. You are nothing to me, Mancini, and never will be.”
“It’s valid in both our countries, so good luck getting it annulled.”
Pain flashes across her expression, and for half a second, I’m met with the same unwelcome sensation as when I was talking to Nero earlier.
Guilt.
Stupid emotion.
Propping my feet on the floor and with a little bit of core strength, I flip us over so quickly, I doubt she sees it coming. It breaks her hold on my throat, her arms stretching for balance, except I already have her on her back, pinning her wrists above her head. I dip down low enough to see betrayal swirl in her eyes.
She bucks but all it does is rub her core against my waist, and she visibly grows more pissed. “This entire time you were being nice, taking me for a walk like your goddamn dog, trying to relate to me, make us seem at all similar and?—”
“We are alike.” Not sure why I get so defensive, why I feel the need to prove to her we are similar, but it feels wrong for her to believe otherwise.
Like I hadn’t interrupted her, she goes on. “—and that you were actually curious about me, but it was all a lie.” She lowers her lids a fraction, her tone losing a bit of its edge. “You wonder why I don’t trust people.”
If she shot me again that comment would hurt more. My insides are a confused mess over this woman. She has every reason not to trust me, and I have every reason not to want her to, but something inside me is upset.
I move so both her wrists are in one hand, freeing my other up to touch her. Stroking a finger over her cheek, she turns her face to the side, mouth opening to bite me. I move quick enough, to avoid teeth, but instead of going for safety, the softness of her lips has me pausing. My thumb unintentionally drags over her mouth.
She stops fighting. Stops breathing entirely from what I can tell. But her mind doesn’t stop, that much I know. Thoughts race, battling her resentment toward the finish line.
I dip my head closer, taken back to outside before Nero showed up. He’s not here to interrupt this time, so it’s all down to Miss Volkov to end this.
Mrs. Mancini, actually.
My lips brush over hers softly, once, then twice, testing her reaction—and my own. I don’t know why I’m doing this, especially now. She doesn’t fight back. Her lips part and a sigh touches my tongue. Her permission. Her submission. I think it surprises us both.
I release her wrists entirely, placing a hand below her chin to keep her in place as I kiss her for real. Something unfurls in me with her gentle moan, and she reaches up to drag her nails through my hair.
In a move I should have seen coming, she abruptly grips my hair and yanks my head back, and I see then, her kiss wasn’t at all real.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
Kissing my wife as part of the vow ceremony. Though I doubt she’d accept that response.
While I’m coming up with a reply she’ll accept, a loud sound comes from outside. One similar to an alarm—or at least that’s what it sounds like to my insides when I lurch upwards, instincts clenching every muscle.
A spray of bullets pellet the side of my home, but it feels as though one’s jammed their way into my heart.
No.
My gaze jerks to the door. Serafina. Venus. Nero.
Beneath me, Vanessa coughs, her nails dragging once more over the back of my head as she turns my face back toward her. Lips I willingly wanted to devour seconds ago curl up in the corner, her cruel smile icing my veins.
“How’s it feel to have your home invaded?”
I could only hope Nero and Serafina already left for Ostia and are far away from the army of Bratva soldiers presently crashing through my front doors.
I lunge to my feet, barely casting a look toward Vanessa and rush from the room, my thoughts no longer on my new wife but the person here who matters more than anyone: Serafina.
This is why she’s kept away. Her safety is everything, so Vanessa’s side just took the next strike in the war if she’s harmed. I won’t stop fighting until it’s over, and even then, I’ll happily hand my life over in exchange for hers. I refuse to live in a world where Serafina doesn’t exist.
I’m weaponless as I rush down the hallway because I’m an idiot who was unequipped during my entire outing with Vanessa. Taking a detour for a weapon is no longer an option because when I reach the stairs, a deadly silence falls.
Silent like my heart.
Amidst the eerie silence, there’s a low growl and a bark as Venus protects her home from the invasion. If anyone in the Bratva dares hurt that dog, they’ll all burn in Hell.
Training says I should descend the stairs slowly, considering I’m weaponless against many without a way of knowing Nero and Serafina’s status. But given the unknown, my steps are not slow and by the time I’m at the bottom, I’ve surveyed the situation.
A dozen Bratva soldiers line my main foyer in formation, all with their weapons angled toward Nero and Serafina who are both kneeling. It’s not the first time Nero’s been held at gunpoint, so he remains stoic as ever, but it’s my sister who has my focus. The way her arms shake as she fights to keep them upright. Still, her head remains straight, her jaw firm and feigning a fearlessness that makes me proud. Venus’s barking continues, but she sounds pissed, not in pain.
At my arrival, the two nearest soldiers jerk their guns my way, and I hold my hands up too, showing them I’m unarmed.
“She’s upstairs,” I tell them, scanning the line for who’d be the leader among them.
Front and centre is the Volkov I’ve yet to meet: Dimitri, Vanessa’s cousin and Ivan’s son. Beside him, one on either side, are her other two Elite members, Anastasia and Lev, glaring at me with the same hateful expression they had when the tables were turned and they were on their knees when my men attacked.
Dimitri gestures with his Glock. “Kneel.”
For Serafina’s sake, I obey immediately.
My sister watches me as I lower to my knees beside her, and the tears in the corner of her eyes are an absolute gut punch. She should never be in a situation involving a gun pointed at her. She’s trying to be brave, but it doesn’t make it any easier.
Venus barks again, and I try pinpoint where the sound’s coming from. “Where’s my dog?”
Dimitri tips his head toward the hall closet, which is large enough for at least three people to stand inside comfortably. “Didn’t feel like getting bitten.”
Relief is instant, but quickly stolen once more when I hear the poetic, sexy voice of their Pakhan—and my wife.
“Lower your weapons, all of you.”