23. Dante
DANTE
M y daughter was unhappy with me, and it killed me. It was a brand-new feeling that I wasn’t familiar with. She was my sidekick, my little princess, and suddenly she wasn’t so little anymore. I didn’t know how to handle it. It was all happening way too soon.
The fucking shitshow moved from Skye’s bedroom to the library while I nursed a glass of some clear liquid called moonshine that Sasha insisted was the only drink that would help in this situation.
It tasted like fucking piss, and I was fairly certain it was poisoning me from the inside.
“She didn’t take it as well as I’d hoped,” Sasha remarked.
“You fucking think?” I gritted, glaring at him. “This is all you Nikolaevs’ fault.”
I wanted to strangle the kid, throw him into the local river and let the gators feast on him. But I couldn’t because I was a goddamn guest here, and I had a sinking feeling Skye would never forgive me.
Of course I couldn’t share my suspicions because Nix would have my balls if she knew Nikola asked to have her and I said no.
“Don’t you fucking blame me and my family,” Sasha snapped. “I saw some benefit and might’ve agreed, but you were the one who caved in to Marchetti’s arranged-fucking-marriage talk.”
“You’re both to blame,” Branka declared.
“ You should have asked Skye what she wanted .” My wife sniffed and shot Branka a look, then they turned their backs to us and went to the opposite side of the room.
Sasha and I shared an exasperated look, and I slammed my glass of moonshine against the bar top.
How in the fuck did we get here? Fuck. Fuck. Fuck .
I picked my glass up again, tipped my head back, and let the horrid alcohol burn its way down my throat and into my stomach.
I glanced over my shoulder at the women huddled in conversation, then lowered my voice as I admitted, “Nikola asked me for Skye’s hand.”
“That little shit,” he hissed. “You said no, right?”
I leveled him with a look. “Do you think I want my princess to marry a younger version of your crazy self?”
“Hey, uncalled for.” He refilled our glasses with the alcohol. “Nikola is my nephew, not my son.”
I grabbed the glass and took a healthy gulp. “He might as well be your son. He’s all you.”
He tipped his head back and emptied his glass. “I’m not sure if I should be proud or offended.”
“Definitely the latter.” I shoved my shoulder into him and he slipped off the stool, falling onto his ass. “And here I thought Russians could hold their drink.”
“Drink? Yes. Moonshine… not so much.”
I waved at my wife, then signed, “He’s fine. Come over here and forgive me already. Give me a kiss . ”
Shit, was I drunk too? My hand gestures were sloppy and uncoordinated.
Neither woman made any move to join us, but I didn’t get the opportunity to coax her any further because a roar sounded, nearly sending me toppling onto the floor next to Sasha.
“What in the fucking hell is happening here?” Vasili questioned as he stormed over to us. “And why are you two drinking my liquor?”
“Brat, you always said tu casa is my casa .” Sasha’s Spanish was giving me the worst headache ever. “Tvoy dom—moy dom.”
Fuck, his Russian was even worse. Why couldn’t he stick to Italian? Ahem, English. Whatever language wouldn’t give me a headache.
“That still doesn’t explain why you two are getting drunk together like two sorrowful idiots?” Vasili grumbled.
“Where in the fuck were you?” Sasha slurred. “Skye is… missing.”
Vasili’s brow furrowed. “She went out with Marietta.”
“Oh.”
“Oh,” I echoed. “I guess that’s good.”
“Isn’t it a bit early in the day to start drinking that shit?” Vasili questioned, eyeing the glasses on the bar.
“It’s five o’clock somewhere,” Sasha drawled, getting to his feet and rubbing his ass. “Jesus, I think that’s gonna bruise.”
“You’re lucky it’s the only thing bruised,” I remarked, my words slightly slurred. I had to stop drinking this shit. It was lethal.
“Why are you two drinking together?” Vasili asked, narrowing his eyes. “You’re usually too busy arguing.”
“We had an urgent… matter to discuss,” I said. “And our wives are mad at us.”
Vasili snickered. “It was bound to happen eventually. You’re both too hardheaded for any woman to put up with. They’re saints for lasting this long.”
“Fuck. You.”
He joined us at the bar. “Now, what happened?”
“Matchmaking gone wrong,” I muttered.
“What he said,” Sasha echoed. “It was funnier when it happened to Nico and Luciano. Twins identity gone wrong happened to us.”
Vasili’s eyebrows shot up. “I didn’t know either of you had twins.”
I waved my hand. “We don’t.”
“Man, this situation is even worse than that of Nico and Luciano,” Sasha grumbled. I didn’t follow, and I certainly wasn’t in the mood to ask for an explanation. “Why did I have a daughter?”
“She’s my daughter, stronzo ,” I muttered.
“Mine too,” Sasha argued back.
“Don’t start on that shit again,” Vasili hissed.
And that was how the three of us found ourselves seated at the bar, drinking moonshine for the remainder of the day.