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Fuck.
And considering what he has just said, this isn’t good at all.
I force myself to continue breathing as our father’s eyes narrow in our direction.
“You need to understand this, my sons: we have a long history with the Italians. We cannot risk this relationship. If this situation escalates, I will not allow anybody to drag my own into this mess. We need to find this girl, and we need to do it as soon as we can. If not, we’ll be putting our own in danger.”
My insides are knotted with tension.
Whatever happens next will change absolutelyeverything.
“I understand, Otets.”
I say, my voice steady despite the unease inside me.
Mikhail, up until now, has been able to keep quiet. He's still processing this all, I can tell, and there's no doubt that he’ll have questions for Chiara once we’re back down with her.
“We will deal with this swiftly, my sons.” He says, his voice strong and certain. “And if it is discovered that a Russian is behind it, make no mistake; I will personally deal with the individual myself.”
Together, Mikhail and I stand from our seats.
After speaking one last time with him, we both begin to move towards the door. I glance over at Mikhail, noticing how his jaw is clenched in the exact same way that mine is, and we both share another knowing look.
There’s a purpose now; no space for hesitation.
Take her.
Keep her.
Claim her.
Chiara is ours now.
And there’s no going back.
Chapter Ten
Mikhail
Chiara 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’snow 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?”