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“I’d rather die alone than spend another minute near a man like you,” I spit, stepping forward and laying my palms flat on the table. “The fact that you ate all of the food you apparently hated shows you are a pig in more ways than one.”
“You and your friends may be wealthy and respected, but I see you for what you are—spineless, cowardly assholes who are so insecure they have to take their rage out on everybody else.”
“It doesn’t matter what he said.” My dad walks into my small kitchen, grabs a glass from the cabinet next to the refrigerator, and fills it in the sink. He drinks all of it before he continues. “You need to apologize.” “Apologize?” My eyebrows are so high they are probably lost in my hairline. “You think the boss of the Volkov Bratva is going to accept my earnest apology? I’m not sure if you’re aware, Dad, but you mob leaders aren’t the most understanding of men.”
“Isn’t marriage worse than murder in this case?” I ask. “Benedetto would hate to see his daughter married to his rival’s son. He would hate to see her pregnant with his enemies’ seed. Marrying Eve could be a punishment worse than murdering her. It would cause lasting, long-term grief.”
“Marrying Eve gives us control over Benedetto and the Furino family,” I continue, lobbying for the idea I still can’t believe was my own. “If he dares to challenge us again, we have his daughter in our hold. We can punish her, harm her, even kill her if we want. Killing her now will anger him and cause a war. Holding her hostage gives us time to formulate a better plan.”
I know this feeling well. The puffed-up pride of being the scariest, most dominant man in the
room. The man who people cower in front of. And yet, it is tinged with something else. Something bitter. I think I feel bad for Eve Furino.
Makayla shakes her head, lips pursed. “For a chef, your coffee palate sure is abysmal.” “I’ll survive somehow.” I hold up the drink menu. “This week’s special is a Sweet and Sour Chicken Toddy.”
She wrinkles her nose in disgust. “That is disgusting. Give me a second, I’m going to go order it.” I laugh as she walks over to the bar and orders her drink.
“I’d expect hipsters to be more adventurous.” “They are,” she says. “But just with their milk substitutes. Did you know oat milk is a thing now? I thought milking nuts was strange, but now we are milking grains, too. That’s pretty adventurous.”
I’ve never wanted marriage. I’ve never wanted a person who would depend on me, a woman who would be there when I came home, talking and demanding my attention, but ever since I proposed to Eve, I can’t get the idea out of my head. I can’t stop imagining her in my bed. In my arms. I still don’t want to attend to her needs and take on the responsibility, but I want her to attend to mine.
“Because you are mine,” I say, realizing this answer applies to both questions. “No man gets to hurt or insult you. Except for me.”
“You are a stupid woman. Too proud, too stubborn, and it will kill you one of these days. Someday, you’ll offend the wrong man, and he’ll kill you for it.” Eve’s soft sob clears the red from my vision. I look down, and she is cowering in front of me. Her eyes are wide and on mine, but her mouth is hanging open, her lower lip trembling, and her shoulders are hunched forward to try and protect herself from the blow she is sure is coming. She looks terrified. I stumble back, my shoe slipping in the hitman’s blood. I sidestep the congealing puddle and
scrape the blood off my sole on the asphalt. Then, I turn and leave. I feel Eve watching me, but I don’t turn around or say anything. I don’t know what to say. I don’t know what I’m feeling.
“Do you think Luka will show up here?” “Chiara,” I hiss through clenched teeth. “Not the time and certainly not the place.”
She rolls her heavily-lined eyes. “It was just a question. No one is looking at us, anyway.”
“I mean, if he did show up, that would be pretty hot,” Chiara says in a way-too-loud whisper. “You’ve always liked a bad boy.” “No, I haven’t. You must have me confused with you.” She shrugs and then adjusts the sleeve of her black leopard print sweater. “Maybe. Because I’d certainly accept his proposal. Have you seen Luka
Volkov? He has sex eyes and a panty-dropper smile.” I don’t want to encourage Chiara, but my attention snaps to her. “You’ve seen him smile?” She shakes her head and then sighs, a drugged kind of smile on her face. “No, but I can imagine. I mean, with those plump lips, how could his smile not make your panties drop?”
Eve thinks I’m trying to kill her. The idea bothers me. It makes sense. After all, she watched me kill a man before her very eyes. But the idea that she believes I would go to the trouble of extending an olive branch in the form of marriage only to let her explode, that she thinks so little of me that I would kill her after offering peace, it is insulting. And worse than that, I still want to comfort her. I want to ease the worry lines across her forehead and massage the tension from her shoulders. She is insulting my character and disobeying my orders, and I still want to kiss the frown from
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This girl is wreaking havoc on my self-control. I need to re-establish the order of things.
“I’m not in the habit of destroying what is mine,” I snap, gripping her arm tighter. “And you are mine. Don’t forget it.”
The dress was the easy part. I called a discount dress shop not listed in the businesses in the binder Luka provided and asked them for a dress with poofy sleeves and preferably a matching lace headband. The woman asked several times if I was certain that is what I wanted, and I insisted. Then, I had her send it to the tailor my family has used for years. I know it is petty, but looking ridiculous on our wedding is the only part of the ceremony I can control. Every time Luka looks at me, I want him to remember that it isn’t real. That I don’t love him.
He gnaws on his lip, and I know he is considering it. “You know, poofy sleeves are out of style now.” I snap my attention to him. “How would you know?” He shrugs. “I’ve been to weddings. If you want to be in style, you should wear something sleeveless. And tight.” “Thanks for the tip.” Hearing the man who threatened me with a gun to plan my own wedding discuss dress styles is almost ridiculous enough that I laugh, but that would require energy, which I do not have.
“I thought we’d go out,” he says quickly. His hands rub together nervously. “I know a place nearby that is really good. Better than what we ate last night.” “That isn’t difficult to do,” I joke, and to my surprise, Luka smiles. The sight of it nearly knocks me on my ass.
“I bet I can guess,” I say, twisting my lips to one side of my mouth in thought. When an idea pops into my head, I smile and hold up one finger in the air. “I bet they met up at the dad’s house before coming to the restaurant, and he looks like the kind of guy who would have a parrot.” Luka looks up at me, eyebrows pulled together. “A parrot?” “Yep,” I nod. “He has a parrot with a filthy mouth who mimics everything he says, and I bet he and the girl’s mother know one another from years ago, and he has bad-mouthed her to this parrot for years.”
“And as soon as she walked through the door, the parrot went off. It called her every name in the book, and everyone knew the parrot had to have heard those things from the dad. So, they hate each other.” He shakes his head, biting his lower lip to hide his amusement. “That’s what you think happened?” “It is,” I say before shrugging. “Or she is a bisexual and they both fell in love with the same nun.” At that, Luka laughs. Actually laughs.
As soon as his lips touch mine, there is a kind of fire in my veins I’ve never felt before. I can feel every inch of my body, every tingle, every brush of his skin against mine. I’m an exposed nerve, and Luka is plucking the strings.
I look to the end of the aisle, and Eve appears as though she just stepped out of the clouds. The day has been slightly overcast, but the sun breaks through the haze to shine down on her in full force, reflecting off her white dress and giving her an otherworldly glow. Her brown hair is pulled over one shoulder, falling in delicate waves, and the dress fits her like a glove. It cuts low across her chest, revealing the fine contours of her collarbone and her smooth golden skin. The straps wrap around the outside of her shoulders in a decidedly vintage look—though, thankfully, it is nothing like
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stand still in place and not rush down the aisle to grab her.
I’m not thinking about anyone else in the world except for Eve. She is my focus. Her lips are the only things that matter to me. I’ve kissed her before, and I’ve been thinking about doing it again every moment since. She is like a drug in my system. One hit, and I’m hooked. This moment was supposed to be my victory over the Furinos, the moment when I show everyone that I am capable of leading after my father is
gone, that I can carry on the Volkov name. But now it is intimate, and I can’t help but smile. I hook an arm around Eve’s waist, bringing her body flush with mine, and my hand cups the back of her neck gently. I tip her head back, her smooth neck extending, her hair slipping back to fall behind her. She is beautiful and fragile in my arms, and I make a silent promise to myself not to break her. Not the way her father encouraged me to. Not the way I bragged I would. Eve is a wild creature, free and fierce, and I plan to earn her trust, not tame her.
I walk up the aisle, eyes pinned on Eve. Even after everything, she still looks flawless. She saved my life by beating a man over the head with a chair, and there isn’t a single hair out of place. When I reach her, I grip her waist and cup my hand under her chin. “Are you okay?” She bites her lip and then nods. “I think so.” I run my hands down her arms, checking for any scratch or wound, but she is perfect. Smooth and golden tan and beautiful.
“Are you okay?” she asks, lifting a shaky hand to press her palm against my chest. “They interrupted our kiss.” She nods. “They did, but I don’t think the kiss makes it official. We still have the license, so—” “Better safe than sorry.” I curl my hand around the back of her neck, stopping her words at once. Her eyes widen and her lips part. Her body goes fluid in my arms, and I lean forward.
“Finally,” I mumble, pulling her close to me. “I may kiss my bride.” Before anyone else can say anything or more shooters can show up, I tip Eve back and press my lips to hers. Her mouth opens for me, her breath a sigh against my lips, and my body turns
into heat and desire and need. I planned for this to be a simple kiss. A church-appropriate kiss. But suddenly, I grab her waist and pull her hips against mine. Minister or no minister, I’m ready to consummate right here, right now.
“Do you wake a lot of guys up after they’ve fallen asleep to tell them you need them one more time?” I ask, pressing my hardness against her belly.
“We are no longer sure of that. Plus, who is to say you won’t run away the way you did with the Irish gunrunner? Then, what will become of my family? A child would bond you to Luka and keep you from fleeing,” Ivan says. “Have Luka’s child, or die. Those are the choices.”
Wife and child. Eve is pregnant. Eve is pregnant with my baby and someone has her.
I run angry fingers through my hair, pulling out chunks of it, but I don’t care. I need to find her. I need to get her back. I call her number back over and over again, but no one answers. All I hear is her soft voice on the answering machine, telling me to leave a message. And it is that voice that eventually brings me back to reality. Her voice helps me make sense of what is rioting inside my chest. Love. I love Eve. I didn’t think I was capable of it. Two months ago, I would have laughed in the face of anyone who told me it was possible, but here I am, pacing in the parking lot of a bar,
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He mumbles something I don’t understand, and the panic in my chest ratchets up a notch. “Luka.” I reach out and grab his hand. His fingers are cool in mine. “Luka, I love you, okay? Please don’t fall asleep. We are here now. Open your eyes. I love you.”
I hear the door to the house open and someone is cursing as they run across the grass towards us, but I just stroke his dark hair away from his pale face. Tears burn at the backs of my eyes as I lean forward and kiss his forehead. He opens his mouth, a raspy breath coming out, and I bite back a sob. Then, his eyes flutter open, green like sunlight coming through a tree, and he looks at me. “I love you,” he says. The words are quiet and broken and breathy, but they are there, and I cling to them as the doctor and I stumble and fall carrying Luka’s battered body onto the porch and into the
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“I’m so glad you’re okay.” “And I’m so glad you’re okay,” he says, stroking a finger along my jawbone.
“It’s okay,” he whispers, his hand warm against my face. “Everything is okay now.” I shake my head. “No, I’m so sorry, Luka. I shouldn’t have trusted my father. I shouldn’t have—” “I should have trusted you,” he says, interrupting me. “None of this would have happened if I’d trusted you.” I stare at him. The words are familiar, and I wonder if he remembers— “I may have been half-conscious, but I heard you yelling at me loud and clear.” He looks at me, and his mouth tips up in a smile. “You really know how to shame a dying man.”
“It’s hard to get mad at someone when they’re telling the truth,” he says. “I should have trusted you, and I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything. Every second we were apart was torture. Even when I was mad at you, I wanted to be with you.”
He slides his hand down my arm and holds my hand, running the pad of his thumb along my knuckles. “You know, I heard something else you said before I fell asleep.” My eyes go wide. “What?” He brings my hand to his mouth and kisses it. “You told me you love me.”
“Hey, I heard something, too,” I say, one eyebrow arched. “You said you love me, too.”
“I was bleeding out and seconds from death,” he says, waving a dismissive hand. I pull my hand away and lightly slap his chest. He laughs and then winces and clutches his side. Once he is settled back in bed again, he reclaims my hand. “Though, that doesn’t make what I said untrue.” His green eyes flare to life, warming my skin wherever they land. “I do love you.”
“Are you enjoying it?” she teases. “I can’t tell.” “Oh, God. It is amazing. I don’t think I ever actually ate food before you came along. Nothing used to ever taste this good.” She smiles, pleased, but tries to hide it. “That’s because you had an untrained cook who overcooked pasta. I’m just the first person you let into your kitchen who knew what they were doing.” “Fitting that this is our first meal in the new house,” I say, remembering our first meal in the mansion together.
The door opens and a man with bags under his eyes walks in, takes one look at me, and raises an eyebrow. “New dad?” “Soon,” I say. He laughs. “Sleep while you can. It will never happen again. My wife is in there having our third.” “Third?” I stare at him like he is a circus freak. “Yeah, we’re crazy.” He shrugs and walks over to the urinal. “But it’s fun. The fact that you’re nervous means you’ll be fine. Only bad parents aren’t nervous about being parents.” I thank him and leave
I’m not cut out for this. The feeling washes over me all at once. I can’t be a dad. It has taken me this long to become a halfway decent husband, and kids are far less forgiving. What if I screw her up? What if I mess everything up and Eve leaves me and takes our daughter with her, and I die old and bitter and alone? The doors at the end of the hall open, and I am half-tempted to sprint towards them and leave the hospital altogether. Really, I might be doing Eve a favor. But then, I hear her scream.
