Chapter 42 #2
But nothing’s worse than Alessio following me inside. I’d live a lifetime in here if it kept him away from me.
He shuts the door and studies me, his mouth curving. I remain as close to the boxes as physically possible, to maintain space between the new version of my ex-boyfriend. I never noticed the guise he wore, pretending to be a university student, but the role he played now seems so obvious.
We may not have been the best matched, but he charmed me in the beginning and often had a warm smile. His touches were gentle—until they weren’t. Turns out, I was never happy with him. Lev makes me happy, not Alessio. The differences in my two relationships couldn’t be more strikingly obvious.
In his tux, Alessio exudes mob boss, all form-fitted clothes with slicked back hair. His expression holds none of that feigned warmth, just an iciness chillier than the storage room. “You clean up nicely,” he comments.
“What are you doing here?”
“Obviously, I’m here to see you. Russia suits you. How’re classes?”
My skin warms as my blood pressure rises. “You didn’t kidnap me for small talk. Get on with it.” My hands curl into my dress, my index finger straightening to tap Lev’s pattern—one, two, one—using thoughts of him to get me through this.
He tsks and lowers his chin. “You’re right.
Running away and hiding in Moscow with your half-sister was a nice touch.
Your boyfriend keeping an annoyingly close eye on you has made it impossible to get near you.
But here we finally stand, to ensure the deal goes through.
” The ice in his eyes freezes into indifference.
“I assume by now your brother told you? You, Signorina Mancini, are to be my betrothed in a deal struck by our fathers.”
Everything about this version of Alessio is different. His speech, his mannerisms. It would be striking if I wasn’t so focused on his words.
“Both our fathers are dead.” Referring to Ursin Volkov as such disrespects Madre and her trauma, but for the purpose of this conversation, it might be what gets me through.
“Seems Zeno tells you a lot for someone who’s claimed to want you out of it. But sì, mio padre decided to…stop breathing.” His indifference cracks for a grin—all teeth, like a tiger about to rip into prey.
“You killed him.”
He shrugs. “He was in my way. Regardless, I am Capo of my family, and the deal remains. Now more than ever, I want you. A wife on my arm, an heir soon in your belly, and you back in Italy. No more whoring it up.”
His delusion brings forth a sharp laugh, and I realize my mistake when his teeth audibly snap together. “Why the hell would I do any of that?”
“I’ve been watching you since the party, Serafina. I know precisely how you’ve come to care for that bodyguard of yours.”
Stay calm. Stay calm. Keep my expression blank. Don’t reveal the truth.
“Even now, you’re trying to protect him. Admirable, really. You’ll make the perfect wife.”
I need to get him off the topic of Lev.
“Besides the deal, why me, when you can have anyone else?”
He slides his hands out of his pockets to spread them in the air. “Is there any other reason required? It was an agreement between our fathers, which both our legacies would do well to respect.”
“I spit on Ursin’s legacy.”
“Schematics aside, you’re a lovely woman, Serafina. As soon as you’re brought under the proper hand, you’ll be an impeccable wife.”
“You mean yours?” The ghostly sensation of his hands pinning me to the bed makes bile rise in my throat.
“Of course.”
“You’re high if you think I’d agree after what you did.”
Rage flits across his expression, but he smooths it quicker than a slimy politician begging for votes.
“It was my right.” Every word is paced, thought-out—a threat nearly on their own.
“By contract alone, you are mine, as is your virginity. It’s why I placed myself in your life, and for a while, you played the demure woman, which I respected.
Until I didn’t. Until securing you became more important. ”
He bears down on me. Only a step, but it breaks my trance, and I press further into the boxes, willing them to swallow me up.
He takes another step, his brow lifting.
Eyes on him, I pace around the stack towards the far wall.
I’m presently trapped, but if he comes close enough and with the right speed, it opens the path to the door.
“You’ll agree, or I’ll murder everyone you care about, starting with Lev Petrov.”
“You’re lying.”
With a careless shrug, he slips his phone from his pocket, taps a few buttons, and ringing echoes through the storage room. One ring passes before the call is answered.
“Still have Petrov in sight?” Alessio’s smirk curls my insides with the realization I’ve underestimated him.
“Yes,” the voice on the other end replies.
“Kill him.”
Ki—? “Wait!” I push off the wall, needing to get closer to Alessio, to rip that phone from his hand.
Not Lev. Never Lev. Alessio will not touch him if I have anything to say about it.
Alessio grins, having trapped my submission. My insides feel like they’re melting as he brings the phone back up. “Hold it.” He slides it away, the leftover breath lingering in my lungs following his command, because for now, Lev is safe.
“Now that you’re listening…you see what I can do with a single word.”
I nod, my throat too clogged to reply.
Alessio ticks his head, reaching to capture a curl. “I’m assuming you won’t be coming to our wedding bed a virgin. Petrov’s touched what isn’t his to take, robbing me of my right as your husband, and I could kill him for that alone.”
I smack his hand away, caring less about his reaction. He can hit me if it makes him feel like the bigger person, as long as he doesn’t call that number back and have Lev murdered.
“The deal is simple. In one week, I’ll propose marriage, and you will accept.
If you refuse, I have people inside the Bratva who will murder everyone you care about.
I’ll start with your sister, and then that ballerina out there.
Your mother, of course. And then, dear ol’ Lev.
I’ll save him for last because I’m getting the sense he’s the key to your obedience.
Of course, all this would send your brother to war, placing his life at risk.
Nero Amato’s, as well… Should I continue? ”
With every name he lists, more of me melts away until the only thing left is murder. His murder. Something I didn’t believe myself capable of before, but after the party, after his threats, the vision of his lifeless eyes and limp body is all too appealing to ignore.
Maybe I do have more of Ursin Volkov inside me than we all assumed. Because in this instance, I’ll strike any deal to keep Lev safe. To keep them all safe.
A lifetime of misery in an unwanted union to save my family. It’s laughable and ironic…because it’s precisely what a mafia princess would be expected to do.
I’m not a mafia princess, because I was raised otherwise. I was raised to become my own person, without the confines of these rules.
Which is why a plan strikes me. One no one will agree with but must happen.
One that embraces the Volkov blood running through my veins.
“Deal.”