Chapter Twenty-Seven
Anya
“ N o, Tesoro ,” Riccardo says, smirking, his hand still tracing over my naked waist as we face each other in bed. “I don’t want to stay married just for the sex. I want to stay married for real.”
For a moment, I can’t find my voice. “You want to stay married,” I repeat, my voice flat. “Why?”
Riccardo’s expression hardens, but there’s something vulnerable in his eyes. “Because I care about you, Anya. More than I ever thought I could. And because we’re good together. I never thought there would be a woman in my life I could just be me with. A woman who could handle not just the life but the way I handle things. But you don’t ever cower, you just plow ahead, and I love that.”
Then he stays silent and just stares at me. Since I don’t know how to respond to that, it makes me want to scream.
Or kiss him.
“We can’t just stay married.”
“Why not?”
Is he serious right now? “Because how would that ever work? You run your syndicate and I just took over the Bratva.”
“We’ve been living together for the past month.”
“Are you serious? You think just because we’ve played house for a few weeks that this,” I wave a hand between us, as if the motion could capture what he’s insinuating, “can actually work?”
The stupid hope blooming in my chest makes it hard to breathe as I wait for his response.
Luckily, I don’t have to wait long.
“I never said that some people wouldn’t object,” Riccardo says, starting to sound exasperated. “But I don’t give a shit about that. I just want you to agree.”
I laugh, not quite able to believe him, but also worried about that feeling inside me that makes me want to give in without further arguments and just say yes.
The worry wins out. “You don’t even know what you want from me.”
Riccardo rolls so he’s partly on top of me again. “I know exactly what I want,” he says, his tone dropping into dangerous territory. “It took me a bit to figure out, but I want you, Anya. All of you. Not just the sex, or the alliance. I want to keep you. Like I keep telling you. I want the woman who fights like hell even when she’s scared. I want the woman who takes stupid risks when she goes after things she wants.”
My throat tightens, but I refuse to let him see how his words hit me. “And what makes you think I want that?”
He cups my chin, forcing me to look at him. His touch is firm but not rough, his thumb brushing lightly against my jaw. “Because you called me earlier,” he says simply.
I want to argue. To throw some biting retort back in his face. But the truth lodges itself in my chest like a blade. He’s right. I am still here. Despite everything. Despite all the reasons that I have never to trust a man again. I’m here. Because he didn’t walk away. Because he doesn’t want to walk away.
Despite being taught that this is bound to get me hurt.
“Riccardo...” My voice falters, and I hate myself for it.
“Anya,” he says, softer now. He tilts his head slightly, his dark eyes boring into mine. “Do you think I don’t see it? How hard you’re trying to keep me out? But you can’t, Tesoro . Not anymore.”
“I don’t want to give you the chance to disappoint me,” I admit, my voice barely audible.
His hand strokes over my shoulder, his thumb tracing slow circles against my skin. “I’m not a man who goes back on his word,” he says, his voice steady. “Give me this. And I’ll give you everything I have in return.”
My chest tightens as I stare up at him. I promised myself to do things on my own. To never let another man hold me back. But with Riccardo, it doesn’t feel like taking the risk is worse than walking away.
I search his face, looking for any trace of doubt, but there is none.
“Okay,” I say, my voice steadier than I expected.
His hands slide down my arms, pulling me closer until our foreheads touch. “Say it,” he murmurs, his voice rough with emotion. “Say you’re mine.”
I close my eyes, letting the walls around my heart finally crumble. “I’m yours, Riccardo,” I breathe. “But you’re mine, too.”
His mouth crashes down on mine.
When we finally pull apart, I rest my hands on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath my palms.
“We’re really doing this?” I ask, a faint smile tugging at my lips.
“We are,” he says, his voice resolute. “And it’s going to be messy and complicated and probably even dangerous sometimes.” He smirks, brushing a strand of hair from my face. “But I wouldn’t want it any other way.”
“Okay then, because I think our in-laws are arriving soon, so we should probably get dressed.”
Riccardo
Toni and Sergei arrive almost at the same time. The welcome in the entrance area isn’t what anyone would describe as comfortable, but with Anya snuggled against me, it’s easy to understand why the two end up walking into the dining room together despite the decade-long animosity between our organizations.
I steal another kiss from Anya, just as another car pulls into the driveway. Eric Merlino and his wife get out of the car. I take it as a good sign that Merlino is bringing his better half. Clearly the Bruno enforcer doesn’t view tonight as having a likely chance of going sideways, what with it being the first time that the Russians join us, and my marriage meaning Anya and I might be viewed as a united front. The whole thing is so mixed up it’ll take a while to get straight, but if Merlino is cool for tonight, I’ll take it.
What I don’t expect is his wife rushing at Anya the second they step through the front door.
Looking only slightly uncomfortable, Anya returns the hug, giving me a look that says, Well, that’s unexpected .
Obviously, there is more to the story, though, because Merlino also gives Anya a polite nod before gently pulling his wife back against his side, not in the least surprised by her behavior. I’m getting the sense the three of them know each other better than our intel suggests, and I’ll have to make it a point to ask Anya about it later.
The woman never ceases to surprise me and I just hope this surprise isn’t one that’ll make my life more difficult.
Only two minutes later, Gianna and Mikhail arrive. Gianna gives Anya a curious once over. “It’s nice to meet you.”
Anya gives her a somewhat reserved nod. “Thank you for coming.”
Mikhail gives me a hard stare before walking over to his sister.
When he stops in front of her, his broad shoulders tense, and for a moment, no one else in the room seems to exist because I’m ready to wipe the floor with his organs if he so much as says a wrong word to her.
“You’re really going through with this,” Mikhail says, followed by a jerk of his head in my direction. “All of it?”
Anya’s chin lifts, her expression calm yet resolute. “Yes, I am. I pulled the trigger to take out Dmitri myself.”
There is a stunned silence, and this time, Gianna shoots me a sharp look.
It’s not exactly how I had figured we’d share the information, but Anya doesn’t usually do things the way I expect them to be done, so I give Gianna a shrug and a nod as if it’s no big deal.
Meanwhile, Anya is continuing her staring contest with Mikhail. “...and you’re going to accept it.”
Mikhail’s jaw tightens. For all his surprising composure, there’s a flash of frustration in his eyes that might be tolerable in any other man but has me on edge coming from Mikhail, who isn’t known to solve problems the peaceful way.
“I know you wanted this,” he says, “but I don’t have to like it.”
Anya steps forward, closing the distance between them. “I’ve earned this. The Bratva is mine now, Mikhail. You left, and I picked up the pieces. You don’t get to question how I handle them. Or who I do it with.”
Mikhail’s gaze flickers to me briefly, as though gauging whether he should push the point here. But when he looks back at Anya, there’s something softer in his eyes that doesn’t agree with his psychopathic tendencies.
“You’re the boss now,” he concedes quietly, the words tinged with both pride and reluctance. “That doesn’t mean I have to like this.” Another nod in my direction.
“You don’t have to like it,” Anya replies, her tone sharp but not angry sounding. “You just have to respect it. Like I had to.”
Mikhail exhales heavily, glancing at Gianna, who gives him a small nod. Finally, he steps back, though the tension in his posture doesn’t fully ease.
“I’ll respect it,” he says, his voice firm. “But you’d better not expect me to trust him.” He jerks his chin toward me and I’m starting to find his attitude more than a little annoying, but I know better than to mess with my new in-laws. Or at least, I know better than confronting Mikhail about it right now.
We might have to have a one-on-one eventually, but that’s a future problem.
Still, I intentionally smirk at him, stepping up beside Anya and wrapping a possessive arm around her waist. “Fair enough,” I say, keeping my tone light but my gaze unyielding. “As long as you understand that she’s not going anywhere.”
Mikhail’s eyes narrow, but before he can respond, Gianna interjects, her tone firm. “That’s enough. I believe you invited us here for dinner, no?”
“Yes,” Anya agrees easily, “let’s head to the dining room. The others are already waiting for us.”
We all settle around the table and even though I’ve been in plenty of tense business meetings, this group makes any of them seem like a kid’s birthday party. Eric is watching Sergei, Sergei has his eye on Toni, who in turn is staring at Mikhail, who must still be staring daggers my way. At the same time, Gianna is curiously watching Mia, who is smiling at Anya, who is clearly trying to ignore the whole thing and is instead signaling to Mrs. Batton that we are ready for appetizers.
Ignoring the caterers, I lift my glass. “To new alliances, new family connections, a new power balance in Toronto, and to my beautiful new wife.”
Gianna raises her own glass. “To the future,” she says.
One by one, the others follow suit, lifting their glasses in agreement. After that, we eat dinner, making small talk that steers away from business.
As far as family dinners go, it’s a significant improvement to my childhood, and watching Anya moan around her spoon when she tries the Vanilla Panna Cotta actually means the evening is much more pleasurable than expected.