Antonio
I didn’t come alone to the party, not that Mikhail and his thugs know that I brought company.
Two of my men are in the trunk. They can pull the lever in the rear to let themselves out when no one is watching.
The moment I drive in through the open gates, there’s a swarm of men with guns surrounding the vehicle.
One guard shouts at me, his gun raised at the side window. “Get out, slowly!”
I smile, pleased at how easily the guards take the bait. I’m a wanted man by the bratva, and Mikhail’s soldiers are all too gullible.
As long as they don’t search the vehicle. But they have me, what they want, and I won’t put up a fight.
“I’m not armed,” I say and keep my hands up so they don’t inadvertently shoot me. They’re the kind of men who shoot first and then clean up the mess after burying the body.
“I don’t care. Get out,” the Russian says. He grunts his answer, his beard thick and his brow tight. He doesn’t appear the least bit pleased to see me, like I’ve ruined the party.
Good.
They have no idea what’s on the agenda. I intend on ruining their day.
I wasn’t sure that I’d make it on time. Aleksandra had made it clear that I should arrive at seven o’clock, but it didn’t take much to hear the whispers of Russian men bragging about a wedding and sending the children off to boarding school.
My children.
Luka, her fiancé, enjoyed his last night of freedom at the club.
But something tells me a man like Luka isn’t going to stop himself from having any woman he wants, married or not.
Why is he marrying Aleksandra?
She’s made it clear that she doesn’t love him, but what does he get out of the arrangement?
I’m yanked from the vehicle and thrown down onto the grass, face first.
I spit out the clump of dirt that finds its way into my mouth. I’m grateful there isn’t snow or ice on the grass.
The Russian pats me down, making sure I’m not carrying a weapon before he hauls me back to my feet and thrusts me inside the front door.
“Aleksandra!” I shout, hoping to garner her attention. I want her to know that I’m here and that the plan is in motion.
“Shut up!” the Russian grabs my hair and yanks my head back. His gun is tucked under my chin.
One of the soldiers hurries up the stairs on a mission if I’ve ever seen one.
Is he securing Aleksandra to ensure I can’t get to her, or retrieving Mikhail?
“On your knees.” The Russian with the gun pushes me back down to the ground.
I’m not a man to kneel, not to the Russians or anyone else, for that matter.
But he forces me onto the wood floor, and my legs buckle. If I end up shot, or worse, dead, I’m of no use to Aleksandra.
“I’ve been waiting for this day,” Mikhail says as his eyes glint under the pendant lighting in the foyer. He stalks down the stairs like a man on a mission.
Is that mission to marry off his sister or murder me? Perhaps he’s pleased that he believes he has the opportunity to do both.
Have my men managed to sneak out of the trunk of the car without being caught?
“Waiting for what? To kill me?” I ask. I attempt to rise to my feet, but the Russian knocks me back down, slamming his fist into my stomach and sweeping his leg under mine.
“Don’t hurt him!” Aleksandra hurries down the stairs past one of the Russians, who is grumbling something under his breath.
Mikhail doesn’t so much as look over his shoulder at her. “You are supposed to be upstairs!”
“I love him!” Aleksandra hurries down the stairs, yanking herself free as another guard grabs her by the arm. “Let me go.”
She’s feisty and vibrant, a force to be reckoned with.
I try not to smile at her, the sight of her in a gorgeous wedding gown, her cheeks rosy, and a scowl on her face.
She’s beautiful.
And I intend to make her mine.
“You love this fool?” Mikhail raises an eyebrow and jabs his thumb at me like he can’t believe the spoken words.
I’m not sure she means them, either, but it’s clear she’s willing to say anything to get out of marrying Luka and moving to Russia.
I don’t blame her. I’d do the same.
“He’s the father of my children, which you already know,” Aleksandra says. She glances at the tall Russian thug who keeps grabbing her by the arm, attempting to silence her and put her in her place.
The girl doesn’t listen.
Fiery.
Fierce.
Exactly the woman I want to claim.
Mikhail’s expression is grim, and his nose twitches with a snarl. “You’d rather marry Italian scum and be disowned by the family than accept Luka’s hand?”
“She’s not moving to Russia,” I say. Whether she marries me or not isn’t the point. I’m not letting my children get on an airplane and move halfway across the world.
“There will be a wedding,” Mikhail says.
Before he can say anything further, I interrupt him. “Aleksandra will marry me.”
“What?” she says, glancing at me with wide, doe-like eyes.
“Yes, excuse me?” Mikhail tilts his head slightly as he ponders the idea. He glances at his little sister and back at me. “Are you expecting my blessing?”
“I’m hoping you won’t kill us.”
He chuckles like I’ve just made a joke, and he folds his arms across his chest. Mikhail strokes his long, thick beard as he considers my request.
“What might I get in return for you marrying my baby sister?” he asks.
It’s clear he wants something, but I’m not sure what that entails. I never did find out what Luka was getting out of the arrangement, other than a family and a new distant home.
I won’t give up any of my turf. If that’s what he’s hoping to conquer, we’ll sooner start a war between our families, again. But I’m trying to be civil, remain calm, and while I don’t appear to have the upper hand with my knees on the floor and my gaze staring up at Mikhail, my men must surely be upstairs by now rescuing my children.
I’m buying my men time.
And I would marry Aleksandra in a heartbeat.
Mikhail waits for my answer.
“Two goats and an ox,” I say.
He snorts and rolls his eyes at my remark. Mikhail doesn’t have a sense of humor.
“I’m not for sale,” Aleksandra says. She’s insulted.
Good, then my offer was believable.
“On the contrary,” Mikhail says with a wicked smirk. “I was paying Luka to take her off my hands.”
“What?” Aleksandra’s eyes widen.
How could she not realize the marriage arrangement had some form of monetary value?
Luka wasn’t wedding her because he loved her or was trying to save her from her older brother. She couldn’t be that naïve to think the marriage was anything more than a bargaining tool.
“Do you think I enjoy keeping you and your rambunctious little brats under my roof? I tolerated you because you are family. But after running off and betraying your flesh and blood, I’ve had enough.”
Aleksandra’s jaw drops. “That’s not fair! That isn’t what happened,” she says, quick to clarify that she didn’t betray her brother. Is it because she wants to mend the tear between them or something else?
Mikhail waves his hand dismissively at Aleksandra. “I don’t care about your excuses. You will marry Luka unless Antonio wants to hand over control of his kingdom.”
“He’ll never do that!” Aleksandra pushes closer to her brother, coming to stare up into his stone-cold gaze.
She’s right, and I’m not about to turn over control of my empire to the Russian bratva. But I need to stall. I’m waiting for my smartwatch to buzz with a coded message, a text to let me know my kids are safe.
There’s been no alert and no message yet, so I try to delay the inevitable. Besides, the longer I’m in the foyer, I’m not being detained in their prison, or worse, dead.
“Surely, you could use more money,” I say.
“You want to buy my sister?” Mikhail asks with a hearty laugh. “I never took you for the kind of man who would pay for sex.”
“I’m not paying for one night with Aleksandra. I’m paying for every night with her for the rest of my life.”
Aleksandra flinches, her eyes tighten, and I can’t quite read her emotions. Is she angry at my suggestion?
“How much?” Mikhail asks. He nods for his man to bring me to my feet. “I don’t do business with men who beg.”
I wasn’t begging or pleading for my life, but it’s not worth the argument or the waste of breath.
“One hundred thousand. It’s enough money to fund your extracurricular activities,” I say. It’s no secret that the bratva delves into illegal arms dealings.
Mikhail pulls Aleksandra closer, and his fingers tangle in her hair. “She’s my only sister. You’re going to have to do better than that,” he snickers.
“I’ll double it.”
Mikhail drops his hold on Aleksandra and strokes his jaw, considering the offer. “Two hundred thousand. Plus, I want a ten percent cut on your gross business assets and an apology for kidnapping my family.”
He’s insane, asking for a percentage of my business. I ignore his request for an apology. Dons don’t apologize or grovel, even when they are fucking wrong.
“Two hundred thousand, and we walk away without starting the next world war,” I threaten.
The Russian boss snorts at my suggestion. “War? You can’t win a war with the bratva. Don’t you remember what happened the last time, what we did to your families?” There’s a sneer on his face, a glint of glee in his eyes.
It’s evident he enjoys torturing women and children, helpless victims. He’d go to great lengths to hurt those closest to me, and I wouldn’t put it past him to do the same to Sophia and Liam.
But if survival means ignoring his remark and rescuing my children from the bratva, then I’ll have to lose this battle to win the war.
“Do we have a deal?” I ask curtly. Behind him, at the top of the stairwell, there’s a dash of movement. It’s Sophia and Liam, I’m sure of it.
Are they with Ardian and Monte? If I can easily spot the twins, any number of Mikhail’s men could also notice them.
“Mommy!” Sophia squeals and hurries down the stairs with her brother right behind her. She’s wearing a bright yellow dress, and her hair is a bit disheveled—the matching yellow ribbon in her hand.
My men are nowhere in sight.
They couldn’t have been caught, or Mikhail would have been informed.
Are they still searching the property for Sophia and Liam?
Liam hurries to Aleksandra’s hip, securing himself at her side when smoke begins to waft from the stairwell.
The fire alarm blares with a high-pitched annoyance that is deafening.
“Dmitri and Nikita, find out what the hell is going on. Everyone else outside,” Mikhail shouts over the ear-piercing alarm.
Aleksandra grabs Liam, clutching her leg, and I reach for Sophia, lifting her into my arms as we head out the front door with Mikhail and most of his men leading the way.
Two of his guards head up the stairs toward the smoke, coughing, guns held up in unison.
Did Ardian and Monte set off a fire upstairs? Is that why they sent the twins downstairs to protect them from further danger?
Is there a fire, or is it just a rouse?
My men can easily handle two of their soldiers, but why defy a direct order to retrieve the twins and get out of the building?
“Did you do this?” Mikhail snarls and juts his finger at me as we hurry outside.
The air is frigid, and Sophia is shivering in my arms. I remove my black blazer and slide it over her shoulders to help warm her.
Liam has his face buried in Aleksandra’s chest. His hands are tucked against her dress, doing his best to keep warm.
“Let us go,” I say. “The kids are freezing. Let me put them in the car and take them home.”
“Home?” Mikhail chuckles with his thick Russian accent. “And you think that’s with you?”
Aleksandra approaches her brother and rests a hand on his arm. “Let me go with him.”
“I promised our father that I’d see to it that you’re taken care of. That means you’re getting married, little sister.”
Mikhail has his head wrapped around the idea of Aleksandra being a bride, whether she wants to wed or not.
Sophia shivers in my arms. My blazer isn’t enough to keep her warm with the sun setting. The last thing I want is for my children to get sick from being out in the cold.
“Let me marry your sister. I’ve already made you a generous offer,” I say.
What will it take to convince him that Aleksandra and the children are better off with me?
“Please, Mikhail. He’s the children’s father,” Aleksandra pleads with him.
“Mikhail!” Nikita calls, hurrying outside.
Mikhail grumbles, pulls out of Aleksandra’s grasp and stalks up the stairs toward his soldier. “What did you find?” he asks. He’s loud, abrasive, and I can’t help but wonder if my men got out already. Perhaps the fire was a diversion for them to sneak back to the vehicle.
But that wasn’t the plan. Something must have gone awry.
“A candle was knocked over in Aleksandra’s room. Dmitri and I put out the fire, but her room has significant smoke damage,” Nikita says. His white shirt is dirty, covered in smoke and grime from the fire upstairs.
“Get yourself cleaned up,” Mikhail orders. “Everyone back inside. It’s fucking cold out here.”
I don’t follow his command. I’m not one of his men. “I’m taking Aleksandra, Sophia, and Liam home with me.” I’m done stalling for time and trying to bargain with a man out for blood.
My men must have set fire in Aleksandra’s bedroom in their own attempt to escape.
Mikhail glances from me to his sister. “Is this what you want? Once you leave, there’s no coming back, Aleksandra.”
She steps closer beside me, her body brushing against mine. “I love him, and the children deserve the chance to know their father.”
Sophia’s cheeks are red. She pulls back slightly to stare at my face. “You know my daddy?” she asks.
“I’m your father,” I say, staring into her pale blue eyes. She has Aleksandra’s matching gaze.
Sophia’s cheeks are red, and she shivers in my embrace. I don’t wait for Mikhail to answer. I clutch the little one tight against me and grab Aleksandra’s arm, tugging for her to follow me to the car. The back door is unlocked, and I hurry around to open the door, shuffling Sophia inside while Aleksandra helps guide Liam into the other side.
The hem of Aleksandra’s gown is dirty, the back zipper undone halfway down her back. Her hair is messy, her makeup smeared. She’s beautiful, and she’s fucking mine.