Chapter Ten
Mikhail
C hiara is refusing to talk.
And I know why.
“Are you feeling all hot and bothered, beauty?” I murmur softly as I take a step closer, bending down slightly to rub the back of my finger along her soft cheek. “Do you regret pushing us away?”
Her eyes squeeze shut as her cheeks become pink.
I breathe out a laugh, sinking my teeth into my bottom lip, wishing I could bite down onto her plump lips instead. They’re so pouty, pretty when they curve up at the corners too, and even more gorgeous when she’s panting through them.
“Mikhail!” Nikolai growls from behind me. “This isn’t the time.”
I roll my eyes as I pull my hand away from Chiara, standing up to my full height once more, and Nikolai takes one step closer.
Like this, we’re both towering over her, and as Chiara finally opens her eyes again, she realises the position she’s now in; trapped between our bodies and the wall, her new bed beneath her.
I smile.
“Francesco Giovanni.” I say, loving the way her eyes widen, and the way her chest rises as she takes a sharp breath in. “That’s the name of your father, isn’t it?”
Immediately, she freezes.
There's terror in her expression, but somehow, she manages to nod her head at me. I growl as I look up at the ceiling, counting down from ten, giving myself some time to breathe before I do something stupid.
How is it that we’ve found the perfect woman to keep, and now that we’ve taken her, we find out that she’s a fucking Italian princess?
Not fair, world.
Not. Fucking. Fair.
“Tell us about him, Chiara. You’ve already said that you moved to England as a child, but tell me before that. What happened back then, darling?”
I look over at my brother, pleased that he’s decided to talk to her.
If it were up to me, and if she was still refusing to talk, well…
I breathe out a laugh as I shake my head, looking like some madman now. If Chiara’s disturbed by it, she doesn’t let it show. Instead, she pushes her shoulders back, and straightens herself.
“My father was an underboss.” She tells us slowly, as though she’s testing the words, feeling the sudden weight of them for the first time in many years. “He was involved in the Mafia when we lived in Italy; he was part of the famiglia.”
She pauses, hesitation clear in her eyes, when I open my mouth, making sure to keep my tone even.
“What about your brother? Dario, I believe. Was he involved too?”
Chiara brings both hands to her lap, entwining her fingers together.
Her throat bobs as she swallows, then her eyes meet mine.
“Dario wasn’t able to become a made man.
We left the country before he had the chance to be inducted.
” A look of pain flashes over her face, and a quick glance at Nikolai tells me that he’s seen it too.
“When we left for England, Dario was still thirteen. He was too young, and by then…it wouldn’t have been safe for him to return to Italy. ”
I raise an eyebrow.
I know that her mother was murdered, and that’s why they all moved to England.
The rest doesn’t make sense.
Why wouldn’t it be safe for her brother?
As the underboss—as a high ranking made man—why not push his son to join the family?
Why not encourage his son to take revenge on those who murdered his wife, and the mother of his two children?
Something is missing, and Nikolai and I will get to the bottom of it.
I sigh heavily—theatrics—and she watches me with keen eyes.
“Your father’s an underboss, your brother never joined, and your mother…”
Chiara’s face falls at the mere mention of her mother.
She shifts positions on the bed, almost curling into herself, keeping her body safe from us. Her voice cracks when she speaks again.
“My mother is dead.”
There’s a sharp silence in the room after that.
We knew that, our father has just told us about it, but it's different hearing those very same words fall from Chiara’s lips.
Women die all the time.
Sure, they should be the very last ones to die when targeted, but that’s not always the case. And from what our father has said…I can only wonder why.
My gaze flickers over to Nikolai, and I see the tension in his shoulders, the slight crease in his brows.
He’s deep in his thoughts, like I am, and I can’t help but wonder what he’s thinking about.
Between the two of us, Nikolai is the calculated one.
But I spot the shift in him as he looks back to Chiara, the way his eyes scan the length of her body, and the way his breathing becomes heavier.
We need her to tell us more.
I know it. Nikolai knows it.
If we want our father off our backs, and the Italians to leave us alone, then we need to come up with a plan, and we need to come up with one fast.
Nikolai breaks the silence first, leaning into it a little, his voice calm but firm.
“We didn’t mean to upset you, darling, but we need to know. If we aren’t aware of all the details, bad things might happen.”
As soon as she hears those words, she flinches.
There’s another flash of fear on her face, and I know that it’s not only because of his words; it’s because of us too. And even though she has every right to be afraid of us, she has no need to. Not when we only want the best for her.
Chiara trembles all over as she slowly begins to fall apart.
I don’t blame her for it; this was bound to have happened. She’s been here for some time now, and she’s stronger than we thought.
Sighing heavily, I take a seat beside her. She immediately stiffens at how close we both are on the bed together, but I don’t pay her any attention. It’s more important that she gets to talking.
“Tell us about him, Chiara.” I say softly, my voice much more gentle now. “What exactly did your father do before you moved to England?”
She swallows audibly as she shrugs her shoulders.
“Like I said before, he was an underboss. I was too young to know the ins and outs of exactly everything he did as an underboss, but that was his role.”
I exchange a glance with Nikolai, and he nods at me, taking over.
“What about Dario? Did your brother ever plan to join too?”
Chiara looks over at my brother, nodding her head at him.
“He always hoped to start as a soldier, and make his way up like how Papa did. But after Mama…Dario wasn't allowed to return to Italy after her death, and neither was I.”
I’m about to push her for more, but she does something which catches me off guard.
Her lips tremble, and her eyes glaze over with unshed tears. I blink as she wipes them away quickly, but it’s too late.
I saw it.
So did Nikolai.
Leaning in even closer, I make my voice softer.
“You don’t need to tell us everything, Chiara, but you should know this: you’re in our care now, and that means you’ll stay here. Nikolai and myself will look after you, regardless of whether you want it, or not.”
My brother shifts beside me, his voice smooth as velvet.
“We’ll never hurt you, but we do need you to trust us. There’s so much at stake, Chiara, and everything can go so terribly wrong if you don’t cooperate with us.”
Her breathing becomes shallow as she stares at us both, tears now rolling down her face.
She hasn’t broken yet, but I can feel it—the cracks forming—and I know that it won’t be long now. Once we have all the information, we’ll be able to do something, and we’ll lead both the Italians, and the Russians, astray.
Nobody will ever know that Nikolai and I are the ones who have taken Chiara.
She glances at us both, her lips wobbling as she bites down on them. When she speaks again, her voice breaks.
“I just want to know that my family is okay. Please, at least grant me that.”
Nikolai looks over at me, but I can’t find it in me to look at him too.
We both know that her family is far from okay. But we also know that we’ll keep Chiara safe, and for now, that’s all that matters.
Nikolai reaches forward, swiping his thumb across her cheek, wiping the tears away. I do the same to the other side of her face.
Her breathing stutters as we both move in even closer, invading all personal space she has left, then we lean in further, pressing our lips against either one of her pink cheeks.
Chiara gasps as we make contact, and that sound goes straight to my cock.
We pull away, only to find her watching us both, her eyes wide, and her lips parted.
I smile.
She’ll crack soon.
I know it.
We’ll break through to get to her.
And when we do, she’ll be ours.
“Don’t make things difficult for yourself, darling.”
Her breathing hitches, and she blinks away the last of her tears.
As Nikolai and I leave the room, we speak softly in Russian, devising a plan to throw everybody off about this entire situation.