Page 54

And now it's too fucking late.
"I'll take you far, far away from here."
I can't stop the tears, and I can't stop my cackling at how fucking incredulously ridiculous this all is.
If I had just tried a little harder to get over what happened to me - no, that's a fucked thought, huh?'Just get over it?'
"What's so funny?"
I yelp at Maksim's solemn tone jarring me out of my thoughts.
I peer back at him. "I'm fucking married!" I cackle, holding my sides that are starting to hurt, and notice his lips curl up in a smirk. "I married" I gasp for air "the infamousDevil of New York,"another gasp and I swipe at my eye, "and the man that's supposed to protect me" My cheeks hurt "isn't here. This is... the most ridiculous fucking thing... ever." I choke out. "I married a man that can't stand me, and the only one that understands me..." I shake my head, chuckling.
I must look deranged.
Maksim drops his smile at the mention of Parker.
"I am utterly alone on the night of my wedding, not a friend in sight." My smile falls, and I clear my throat. "Not even my blanket." I wipe the tears off my face.
Eyes darker than soil squint at me and blink once. I can see the pity in his eyes, and I fucking loathe it. "Why don't you... go get some sleep? I have work to do."
I shake my head. "I wasn't able to get my medication due to thisspontaneoustrip. If I have a fit in my sleep, I don't want to cause an emergency landing when we're so close to Italy already."
"It's that bad?"
I don't know how to answer him, so I reply honestly with a shrug. "It can be." I sigh, planting my feet on the carpeted floor of the plane, lean forward, then place my elbows on my knees. "Would you like to give me the rundown? I have a feeling that your father didn't do this out of the goodness of his heart." I motion at the seat beside me. I would have had his assistant Jonathan send me all the information I needed like I did when meeting the capos, but... again, this was a surprise for us both.Jonas barely had enough time to get my clutch that had my phone, and he threw it to Raven who tossed it to me like a wild form of hot potato.
He blinks and clears his throat, then hesitantly sits down beside me. He's wearing his slacks and a white V-neck shirt. At least he's comfortable. I'm still in my wedding gown. "The four heads of the Cosa Nostra you met at Eden report back to the four heads of the original famiglias. My father now reports to me from Italy. He went there when he semi-retired due to his health. They act as a sort of council."
At least Jonathan did make me aware of his father’s decline. Cirrhosis of the liver – and now the rest of his organs are simply beginning to fail. He’s refused a transplant, wanting to be with his wife as soon as possible. It’s kind of romantic.
"And the Bratva?"
"Imagine myself as the middleman. Both sides report to me."
I hum and mindlessly nod. "Weary is the crown and all that."
He thrums his long fingers against the arm of the seat, the solitaire diamond on his black titanium ring glints back at me. He looks a bit nervous and a bit troubled.
"What is it?"
"I turned down all of their daughters over the years."
That's surprising. "Why?"
He shrugs and does that Robert De Niro frown. "My father had just gotten sick; I was taking over, and the timing wasn't right. I also had no interest in marriage. But due to this... you and I have to pretend to be so in love they forgive me for rejecting them all."
I rub circles at my temples. Lucky me. "Seems you'll have to put your disdain for me aside, dear husband."
"Only in company...wife." The way he says it, with a bit of a growl, sends a weird blooming feeling to my core. "How's your Italian?"
I peer over at his large form and ask for directions to the bathroom in the mostterribleItalian I can muster, to get a rise out of him, but he merely blinks my way.
Okay then.
"It'll have to do," he replies, pulling his phone from his pocket and opening an app. The first picture he shows me is of a lovely older couple. "Vittoria and Alessandro Bianchi. Sicilian chapter." I nod between each and every picture, filing away the information in my brain, doing my best to ignore the low cadence in his deep voice, lulling me to sleep.
I jolt awake as the plane's wheels come down, facing a snoozing Maksim. His warm hand is on my stomach, and I'm under the comforter that was in the bedroom. This small gesture touches me, and for a moment, I let myself really look at him, drinking in his rogue, relaxed features.