2 #2
He shook his head, and he looked almost as if he was in physical pain. “I’m so fucking sorry.”
“Luca—”
Finally, his gaze collided with hers, and she forgot to keep breathing when she recognized the resentment threatening to break free. Was he mad at her ?
“Did I do something?” she asked, suddenly anxious because nothing made sense. Not his behavior and not even this peculiar evening that seemed to stretch for an eternity.
“No,” he rasped, and his voice was raw with an emotion she couldn’t name. “Come on, we can't keep them waiting.”
“Them?” she said confused. “Who is ‘them’?”
“Come,” he commanded again more firmly, grabbing hold of her hand.
Dazed by his uncharacteristic behavior, Alessandra let him guide her down the stairs to the first floor where her father's study was. Shock was evident on her face when she saw all the men gathered there—nine of them on a quick count.
“Alessandra, come.” Her father motioned her closer.
Looking behind her, she noticed Luca had retreated into a corner of the room and had gone back to avoiding eye contact.
With her heart starting to beat faster inside her chest, she advanced into the study, her skin prickling from all the attention aimed at her.
Suddenly, she felt like a lamb walking to its slaughter.
“I want you to meet Roman Leskov,” Nero added, and she now noticed that the handsome man from earlier was sitting in a chair across from her father's desk.
“Hello.” Her voice was small and tentative.
She didn't know what her father wanted with her, and the uncertainty combined with the pressure evoked by the foreign audience pushed her body into a state of heightened anxiety.
From the corner of her left eye, she registered Matteo's form standing beside the windows.
She fought the need to search for comfort in her brother, knowing she had to keep her attention on the three men sitting around the desk: her father, Roman, and another man who looked to be about her father's age.
Before she could analyze the circumstances of this odd meeting, her father spoke again, delivering a blow so cruel, she nearly swayed on her feet. “He is to be your future husband.”
“What?” She choked on the word, feeling as if an invisible fist had cut off her airflow.
She met Roman's icy gaze and couldn't find any trace of sympathy for her situation.
He looked like he couldn't have cared less if he was marrying her or anyone else.
Her head whipped back toward her father as she tried to reason with him. “Papà, but I'm engaged to Luca.”
“Not anymore,” Nero replied simply, motioning to the documents on his desk. “I need you to sign these.”
“I can't marry a stranger.” Alessandra pushed down angry tears. She didn't understand why her father was doing this. He had never been cruel to her. He was a little cold, but she had always known he loved her and Matteo.
“You can and you will,” Nero said more quietly, the hint of something dark infusing his voice. “Sign the papers.”
“Please,” she whispered, her heart smashing violently against her ribcage. She didn't want to cry—not in front of all these people who had come to rip her away from her family.
Why? Why was her father offering her up like an inanimate object?
And to a Russian man, no less. If she'd had trouble placing the accent earlier, his name said it all.
But Roman Leskov wasn't just any regular Russian.
If her instinct was right—and she knew it was—he was a mafia man, just like her father. They all were.
In all of her nineteen years, Alessandra had never witnessed a rival family step foot inside their house. As ignorant as Nero had wanted to keep her, one thing she knew for sure: the Russian Bratva was greatly feared among made men.
What trouble had her father gotten into? There had to be an explanation for this... she couldn't even find the right words to describe her situation.
“Begging will get you nowhere,” Nero hissed, his freshly-shaved cheeks trembling in response to his daughter's disobedience. He was livid. “Stop wasting everyone's time and sign the damn papers before I do it for you.”
She wanted to cry and yell and rage. He was Russian. Russian.
How could they agree to this?
She’d always known her marriage would be an arranged one, but this… this was just madness. She was fine with marrying Luca whom she’d known since she was a child. But being offered to the enemy as if she was worth nothing was more than she could take.
In a last desperate attempt, she looked toward her bother and saw that his back was to her, his gaze set out the window and his hands shoved into his pockets. A sob nearly escaped her, but she swallowed it back before it could break free.
No one else said anything. They all waited for her to do as she was told.
Another minute passed where only the suffocating silence of the room resonated in her ears, deafening and all-consuming. There was no escaping this. No one was going to come to her aid—not her brother, and not even Luca who’d given her up so easily.
“Mamma,” was the last thing she could think to say in a weak voice.
“Your mother is aware,” Nero said coldly. “Sign, Alessandra.”
Shocked into a compliant state, she grabbed the fountain pen with shaky fingers and leaned over the desk to sign her name on the dotted line.
The words blurred in front of her as the tears she had been suppressing finally pooled in her eyes.
One fell and landed right on her freshly scribbled signature, sealing the deal with her misery.
“You can go now,” her father dismissed her after she'd done her part. “Leave the ring on the desk.”
Barely able to stop herself from breaking down entirely, she ripped her engagement ring from her finger and let it fall on top of the papers.
Whirling around, she flew out of the study, her brother's voice calling after her not even registering over the buzzing in her head.
At the bottom of the stairs, she stopped for a second, bracing herself against the wooden railing as she struggled to breathe.
A warm hand cupped the back of her neck, kneading the muscles there for a second. “I'm not that fucking bad.” The voice was low and masculine as it brushed against her ear.
Alessandra jumped in surprise, turning around and taking a step back. Her foot hit the first step, and she grabbed the banister to keep herself from falling on her ass.
Roman was standing in front of her, looking annoyed by her reaction. With her feet bare, he towered over her in a way that forced her to lift her chin so she could meet his eyes. Her last concern when Luca had dragged her out of her room was remembering to put on her sandals.
“You forgot this.” He held up a black velvet box. Not bothering to take out the ring, he pushed the box into her hand and headed back into the study without another word.