10. Alfie

10

ALFIE

B urning arousal hammers through my veins as I watch Mika storm toward the door. For a fleeting moment, I consider going after her, calling her bluff, and seeing what she would do. I don’t see her abandoning the horses she’s so protective of, but if I’m wrong—and she quits—then I’ll be short a horse trainer and have no excuse to see her again. She’s just too enticing to let her walk out of my life for good. Even when her back is stiff with anger, her full hips sway provocatively, and I would love nothing more than to bend her over her desk and mark her bare ass for leaving me frustrated—again. The more she rejects me, the stronger my desire for her becomes, and it’s massively inconvenient.

Fuck! I don’t need this kind of distraction right now. I’m weeks away from marrying Nikolai Kapranov’s daughter, but I can’t seem to get Mika out of my head. I wish she would set aside her objections against being “the other woman” and try it. But it seems like that’s never going to happen.

I comb my hair back from my face with my fingers and straighten my suit, stretching the tension from my neck at the same time. I adjust my aching cock to relieve some of the pressure from my zipper, and rolling my shoulders back, I release a heavy breath, composing myself.

Maybe if Mika would just give in to me, I could have my fun and move on in time for the wedding. But she’s clearly not interested in something quick and casual, though, and what’s more frustrating is that I’m not sure a one-and-done situation would satisfy me anyway. Everything about Mika draws me in—her passion, her beauty, her strength, her open defiance. I doubt a quick fuck will do anything but prove how much more of her there is for me to explore, but at this point, I will take what I can get.

A small part of me wishes I hadn’t stumbled upon this kind of temptation when I’m so close to sealing the deal with Nikolai. I’d already resigned myself to an arranged marriage. I didn’t picture being happy in that scenario, but I took the offer to form a lasting peace between the Bonettis and the Kapranovs. Now, I’m confident I’ll be miserable if I marry a woman I don’t know, while Mika remains a constant source of temptation. That means I have one of two options—I can fire Mika, or break off the engagement. Neither sounds like a good option to me, but as I stalk toward the office door, I already know which one I’ll choose.

Nina’s nose is buried too deep in her book to notice when I enter the library, and I stop to lean against the door jamb. Smiling, I take a moment to watch my kid sister before I have to interrupt her peace and quiet. At age twenty-four, she’s hardly a kid anymore, but I’ll always think of her as one because, in so many ways, Nina’s still young and naive to the brutality of the world. I know she will always need my protection, and I don’t mind. I’m more than willing to use my power to keep her safe. Her happiness might matter more to me than my own, and seeing the soft smile on her lips as she walks through her fictional worlds fills me with a deep sense of contentment.

I push off the dark oak doorframe to approach her, my custom Italian leather shoes snapping sharply against the mosaic marble floor, and though the sound echoes in the vaulted, two-story library filled with first-edition hardbacks, she doesn’t look up. Nina’s elbows rest on the table in front of her, one arm hidden beneath her dark curtain of hair as she props her cheek on her palm. The other hand holds her book open against the sturdy mahogany surface, her fingers deftly turning the page one-handed. Judging by my brief glimpse of the gold-embossed cover as I approach, she’s reading one of her classic fairy tales made modern. The girl’s a sucker for all those old-timey romantic tales—another reason I know she’s so innocent and young at heart. She believes that kind of love exists, and despite the added danger that optimism puts her in, I can’t bring myself to crush her hope. When I reach the far end of her reading table, I rap the wood sharply with my knuckles, calling attention to my arrival.

Nina’s head snaps up. Her hazel eyes light with affection when she sees me, and in an instant, she’s up out of her chair. “Alfie! You’re home early!”

I love the sound of my sister’s voice—in part because she uses it so rarely, and only ever with me. The sweet blend of warm sunshine and blurred syllables has evolved into a subtle accent all her own. Beaming, my sister jumps up to throw her arms around my neck, and the spine of her well-read book is worn enough, it no longer needs her help to stay open as it holds her place. I hug Nina back, tightening my arms around her slim ribs until she releases a soft squeak. Without intending to, my eyes catch on the words on her page for just a moment, and heat creeps up my neck as a line about the heroine’s creamy thighs opening jumps out at me. I’m aware of my sister’s appreciation for fairy tale retellings, and I know she’s a grown woman now, but I hadn’t considered I might have to think about her marriage prospects—and, therefore, her desires—one day. That’s not a topic I’m at all ready to approach—even if we are both mature adults. As far as I’m concerned, if anyone dares to touch my sister, I’ll cut off his hands. End of discussion.

“Does this mean it’s time for my surprise?” Nina asks, releasing me, her fingers moving in tandem with her voice to ensure I understand her.

I always can, but my father made a point of insisting that Nina use sign language over speaking. When he was alive, he discouraged her from using her voice at all because it would be a dead giveaway that she can’t hear, while sign language and silence would be easier to hide. He worried if she got used to speaking at home, she wouldn’t think about it in public, when it would leave her vulnerable. While I could see his point, it crushed me to watch him silence her. Now, even though I encourage her to speak around the house, I think she’s too self-conscious to use her voice with anyone else.

I shake my head, still smiling as I reply in sign language. “Not yet. You’ll know when it’s time.” Though she can’t hear me, I speak the words. To me, the combination is as natural as breathing, since I’ve been doing it most of my life.

Nina went deaf when she was five, after enduring a brutal case of meningitis that took the lives of both our mother and brother—the middle child in our family. Losing them was horrible. I don’t think my father ever fully recovered. Which is probably why he was so overprotective of Nina. To ensure he wouldn’t lose her, too, he hid her and her vulnerability from the world, and he impressed upon me the importance of looking out for her as her older brother, since she can’t defend herself. But Nina proved incredibly resilient, despite the fact that she lost the most during that illness. She learned to accept her hearing loss and communicate well without it, and in all these years, she’s never complained. We all adapted to the challenge, but the hole my mother and brother left in our family was massive. It’s thanks to Nina that I found the strength to rise above my own grief. She’s the most important person in my life, and I feel blessed to have such a bright ray of sunshine to call family.

“I want to know!” She bounces in her enthusiasm, clasping her hands in front of her chest. “The wait is killing me.”

“No whining,” I tease. “I promise it’ll be worth it.”

Nina pouts her lip momentarily, then she quickly drops the playful moping as curiosity flashes across her face. “So, why are you home early? Not that I mind.”

“I’ve set up another dinner with the Kapranovs tonight.” I don’t anticipate it ending well, considering the news I have for them, which is why I came to find Nina. “They should be here shortly, and I want you to eat in your room tonight.” I chuck her under the chin affectionately.

Nina’s delicate eyebrows raise in silent surprise, then her face falls with disappointment, a hint of rejection in her eyes. I don’t like leaving her out because I know it makes her feel less than accepted, but tonight, I can’t risk her safety, and I don’t trust the Kapranovs to keep their heads in the heat of the moment. After a moment of hesitation, Nina agrees, and only then does the tension in my neck relax slightly.

“Promise me, Nina,” I insist because her reaction was far too reluctant. “Promise you’ll stay upstairs for the rest of the night, and you won’t leave your room until I text you.”

“Why? What’s going on?” Concern flickers across her face.

“Nothing you need to worry about. Just more negotiations.”

“But it’s, like, a week before the wedding. I thought all the negotiations were settled,” she signs more adamantly.

“Nina.” I grasp her chin and hold it securely so she can read my lips. “Everything’s fine. Just stay upstairs.”

My sister nods slowly, then places a finger to her lips before pressing a flat palm against the thumb-side of her opposite fist. “I promise.”

“Good girl.” I pull her in for another quick hug, then watch as she collects her book and pads softly from the library. With a heavy sigh, I follow her out, taking a left as she heads right, so I can wait for my guests in the foyer.

When the Kapranovs first stipulated that I would have to wait until the wedding to meet Ana, it irked me. But tonight, I’m grateful my fiancée won’t be here. I think it’s best if none of the ladies are present for this conversation. I’ll have my hands full enough with Nikolai and his son, Dominik .

“Sir, the Kapranovs’ car just pulled up,” Vincent says as he falls into step with me.

“Good. Let’s get this over with.”

My butler, Henry, opens the door as Marco joins me and Vincent, my two heads of security and bodyguards, stationing themselves unobtrusively behind me.

“Alfie!” Nikolai booms, stepping through the door, his deep, boisterous voice matching the wide barrel of his chest. He signals his men to remain outside—a sign of trust I’m confident I won’t see again after tonight. His mass of auburn curls is trimmed short and neat, along with his thick beard, giving him a crisp, clean appearance. Nothing but the burly, broad-shouldered Russian’s imposing size would hint at his untamable and erratic nature—another reason I’m not looking forward to this dinner.

I was hesitant to agree to this alliance in the first place because Nikolai has a notoriously short fuse. My father warned me against doing business of any kind with the Russians because of it, but with things growing increasingly more hostile along our borders as my family’s business expands, I wanted to get ahead of any violent conflict by forming a more permanent alliance. That will set the stage for cooperation between our families for a long time as well. Even if Dominik seems just as dangerous and unpredictable as his father—and actually looks it, too—I get the feeling that he might be easier to negotiate with, and since he’ll be taking over as pakhan in the not-so-distant future, I want to find a peaceful arrangement now.

I only hope I’m not about to watch all my careful negotiations go up in flames.

“Your dinner invitation was entirely unexpected but a welcome surprise,” Nikolai continues, closing the distance between us to clap me brusquely on the shoulders.

Dominik follows a few steps behind, his signature scowl cutting deep lines in his forehead. And though he has the same auburn curls and blue eyes as his father, he couldn’t come across more different than the older Kapranov, even with the same stocky, muscular frame. Rather than his father’s crisp, clean look, Dominik’s hair and beard create a wild mane around his face, reflecting the volatile personality they’re known for.

“Thanks for accepting on such short notice,” I force charm into my strained smile and shake Dominik’s broad hand, matching the strength of his grip as our eyes meet.

“Dinner should be ready if you’d like to lead the way,” I suggest, gesturing toward the open doorway.

The Russians turn, striding confidently toward the guest dining room where I host smaller dinner parties. Three places have already been set with fine china and polished silver that has been in the family for generations. The heavy wingback dining room chairs look small compared to my dinner guests as I take a seat across from Nikolai and Dominik. Vincent and Marco stay just outside the dining room’s arched doorway, close but invisible to the Kapranovs.

“So, Alfie, how’s the new investment turning out?” Nikolai asks, the boredom in his richly accented voice telling me just how little he actually wants to be sitting here, making small talk. “I hadn’t pegged you for a horse man.”

I smirk and force my shoulders to stay down as I mask my growing tension. “I’m not particularly, but I am a betting man, and the horses seem to be in top shape. I look forward to seeing how they race. Either way, the estate holds enough value to make the investment worthwhile.”

One of the kitchen staff pours us each a glass of zinfandel from my private stores as two others bring in plates of food, setting richly smothered veal parmesan before us. It smells spiced to perfection with oregano, basil, and thyme, and the parmesan oozes off the crisp breading onto the plate. The two Russians are cutting into their food before my staff slips out of the door, and I can tell by Nikolai’s appreciative hum that my chef has served another winning meal.

“Well, it sounds like you’ve found a new source of entertainment, if nothing else,” the older Kapranov says between bites.

I study his expression closely, wondering if he might know more about the reason I called him here tonight than he’s letting on, but as my first bite of veal hovers inches from my mouth, Nikolai chuckles .

“Men like us have to find outlets to stay sane, da ? Horse racing sounds like as reasonable an investment as any other. Za zdaróvye. ”

Nikolai raises his glass in a toast, and I set down my uneaten bite to return the gesture. Dominik mirrors it before resuming his meal without a word.

“So, Alfie, what’s this dinner about?” the pakhan asks after taking a generous sip of wine and following it with a bite. “I imagine you didn’t invite us over just to share a meal.”

“No, I didn’t.” I cast my eyes toward the doorway where my two guards wait, prepared for whatever happens next. Then I turn my eyes back to the Russians, my muscles tense and ready for action as I choose my words carefully. “I invited you tonight to discuss the wedding.”

“What more is there to discuss? All the decisions have been made. The guest list is set. It’s in less than two weeks. What else could we possibly have to talk about?” Nikolai places his fists on the table, his fork and knife grasped casually in a threatening gesture.

This is my last opportunity to change my mind—to avoid the conflict I’m sure I’ll trigger if I fail to marry Ana. It would be so much easier to simply stay the course. If I don’t, I could very likely end up at war with my potential allies. Choosing Mika could cost countless men their lives.

Am I that selfish? How much do I want her for myself?

An image of Mika’s intense blue-green eyes fills my mind. I can almost feel the silky warmth of her skin against my palms. The way she challenges me and speaks her mind—she’s fearless, and she makes me feel alive in a way no one else ever has. That’s why I want her, and I’m willing to live with the consequences.

I brace myself for the explosion that’s sure to come and state calmly, “I’ve decided to call it off.”

The room fills with deadly silence as my men hold their breath, waiting for the Russians to react. Their tension builds, and they shift their weight from one foot to the other, their neck muscles tightening over the collars of their shirts. I caught them by surprise, and they’re preparing for the outburst that will likely follow my announcement. I hadn’t told anyone about my decision. Even I wasn’t sure I would go through with it until the words left my mouth.

Nikolai studies me sharply, his blue eyes cold. “I’m sorry,” he says finally, his voice flat with warning. “I must have misheard you.”

Beside him, Dominik shifts, setting down his silverware as his eyes lock on me, and his scowl deepens with displeasure.

“I can’t marry Ana. I still hope to form a peaceful relationship between our families, and I would like to find a different way to solidify our alliance?—”

“You must be joking,” Nikolai snarls, slamming his silverware down onto the plate hard enough to make the fine china crack. Red marinara drips through the crack, spreading in a slow pool across the white tablecloth to stain it like orange-red blood.

Taking a beat, I inhale slowly, and then square my shoulders. “It’s not a joke. But I am willing?—”

“ You’re willing? You’re fucking willing! ” Nikolai snarls, rising from his chair so forcefully that it topples backward with a loud crash.

Dominik stands as well, and he looks like he might just leap across the dining table to strangle me. His broad hands flex, balling into fists as his blue eyes blaze with silent betrayal.

“All of New York society is supposed to be there. You can’t back out now. It would sully our reputation, my daughter’s good name. Do you have any idea how insulting that would be? No, Mr. Bonetti. I am willing to overlook this massive lapse in judgment this one time. You will either go through with the marriage, or our alliance is finished .”

Well, shit.

I hoped it wouldn’t come to that, but I’m more confident now than ever that I made the right decision. Even if I could have tolerated Nikolai’s daughter—which I’m not sure I could have—trying to maintain an alliance with a man so explosive would not have ended well, no matter what I chose.

“I’m sorry we couldn’t come to a different agreement,” I state coolly, keeping my composure flawless despite the churning emotion in my gut. I can hardly afford to show weakness now, even if I’m unsure of exactly what consequences I’ve just unleashed .

“You trifling, fickle Italian piece of shit,” Nikolai snarls. “You’re not sorry enough yet, but you damn well will be. I can promise you that.”

Behind the pakhan , Marco’s hand shifts ever so slightly toward his gun, and I give a subtle shake of my head, signaling him to let the insult pass. His hand moves back to its original position, but his face is still tight with disapproval, and I know he wouldn’t hesitate to put a bullet in either of my dinner guests. But killing either of the Kapranovs in my home would inevitably begin a war, and while this still might end in a violent conflict, I don’t want to be the one who strikes first. My hope is that we can still avoid a bloodbath.

Nikolai turns on his heel, striding angrily toward the front door. Dominik stalks after him, broad shoulders tense with fury. The front door slams shut behind them with a bang, followed by the sound of paintings rattling against the wall.