Page 4

Trusting Jimmy’s instincts about Dario would have saved me a lot of trouble.

My supposed boyfriend was working for Joey Gallo, a longtime enemy of my family.

Dario passed the photos to him and he threatened to post them online if I didn’t spy on my brothers for him.

If I’d been thinking clearly, I’d have gone to Jimmy and told him what happened.

I didn’t. Instead, I went to Antonio’s wife, Isabella, and asked her to help me.

That’s when the situation became even messier.

She let Joey Gallo and his cousin Vito into their home, thinking they just wanted to talk to Antonio in exchange for the photos.

There was an altercation that ended with my brother being shot and the Gallos disappearing.

Thinking she betrayed him, Antonio exiled Isabella.

When I finally gathered the courage to tell Antonio his wife was only trying to help me when she let his enemies into their home, he was furious.

He sent me here to Italy to reflect on what he considers my many flaws.

I know he’s searching for the photos, but I pray he never finds them.

If he sees how low I sank that night, he’ll wash his hands of me once and for all.

“What mess?” Piotr’s question pulls me from my thoughts. “Why did your brother send you here, Olivia?”

“Oh, you know, family issues.” Before he can ask me anything else, I return to the coffee machine and grab my cup of freshly brewed espresso. As I turn back to face Piotr, I remember my manners and gesture toward the cup with my free hand. “Would you like one?”

“No, I never touch the stuff.”

My eyes widen. “What sort of psycho doesn’t drink coffee?”

If he’s offended by the question, he doesn’t show it. He doesn’t display much emotion. “This one.”

“Well, would you like tea? Hot chocolate? Milk?”

He dismisses each option with a shake of his head.

“What do you drink, then?”

“I drink tea at breakfast. The rest of the time, I prefer water and vodka.” The ghost of a smile touches his lips. “But never together.”

I can’t help smiling. “My father had a Scottish friend who said it was a crime to put water in whisky.”

“A real man doesn’t need to water down his liquor.

” His tone is more playful than I’ve ever heard it, and I swear he winks at me.

Is Piotr Reznov flirting? It’s hard to tell.

So far, he’s been pragmatic in his approach to persuading me to marry him telling me why it would be good business for us to tie the knot. Just what every girl wants to hear.

Before I can come up with a response to keep this flirtation going, the front door shuts and I hear my brother bellowing for Giulia. Shit.

“That’s Matteo,” I say needlessly.

Gulping down the scalding coffee faster than I should, I slam the cup down on the countertop by the sink and hurry through to the living room before Lorenzo can break the news of Giulia’s departure to my brother in his usual flippant manner. Matteo is going to require careful handling.

“Where’s Giulia?” my brother demands the moment I walk into the room.

He and Damiano, who must have arrived with him, look rough. My cousin’s arm is in a sling and Matteo’s knuckles are split. Both men have blood splatters on their clothes. It seems they’ve been busy dealing with their enemies.

“Where is my wife, Livvy?”

Piotr subtly steps forward to insert himself between me and my brother. It isn’t necessary. Matteo might yell, but he won’t hurt me. I appreciate the gesture all the same. I never expected Piotr to be gallant.

“Your wife is on my plane, headed for New York.” Piotr’s tone holds its usual lethal calm.

“What?” Matteo sounds so angry it makes me shudder.

“She wanted to go home, Matteo.” My voice is a good two octaves higher than usual. “I asked Piotr for help.”

“You did what?” Matteo’s expression turns murderous. “You helped my wife to leave me?”

“Giulia isn’t leaving you.” I try to smooth things over. “She just needed some space.”

“She’s quite safe,” Piotr says. “My people will deliver Miss Costanza to her father.”

“ Mrs. Volante was safe here.”

“She didn’t seem to think so.” Piotr’s tone is measured, but there’s a hint of provocation in it.

“You fucking…!” Matteo doesn’t finish the insult.

He lunges for Piotr, who shoves me aside, once again getting me out of harm’s way.

Before my brother can land a blow on the Russian, something that would be bad for our alliance with the Reznovs, Damiano pulls him back.

With impressive strength, considering he has one arm out of action, my cousin pulls Matteo from the room.

“Well, that was fun,” Lorenzo drawls. He’s remained seated this entire time, but I’m sure he would have intervened if Damiano needed him.

“Asshole!” I snap. “That was horrible. Poor Matteo.”

“Oh, it’s poor Matteo now?” Lorenzo arches an eyebrow as he mimics my voice. “You weren’t so concerned for him when you were helping his bride to flee from their wedding night. I thought you didn’t even like the girl.”

“She’s not all bad.” I have been kind of mean to Giulia in the past, my attitude driven by jealousy over her long friendship with Matteo. “And she was really upset about what happened.”

“You don’t think being with the man who loves her would have helped her get over it?”

Shit. When he puts it like that, I’m less sure I did the right thing. The doubt burrows deeper into my mind when the front door slams shut and Damiano returns to the room alone.

“Where is he?” I ask.

“He’s going after Giulia.” Damiano crosses the room and pours himself a large Scotch before turning to face us. “What the fuck were you thinking, Piotr? You should never get between a man and his wife.”

“I was thinking Antonio wants his brother back in the States and if his wife was there he’d follow.”

Damiano laughs mirthlessly. “You’re so full of shit. You didn’t do it to please Antonio.”

“No,” Piotr admits. “I did it as a favor to Olivia.”

“A favor in return for what?” Lorenzo knows everything men like Piotr do is transactional.

“Dinner.”

That surprises me. “Dinner?”

“Tomorrow night,” he confirms. “I’ll let you know where and when.”

He addresses that to Damiano, not me. There’s no point expressing my outrage at the patriarchal nonsense of deferring to one of my male relatives because nobody here will listen.

In their medieval minds, an unmarried woman is the responsibility of the head of her family. As Antonio isn’t here, that’s Damiano.

“Fine.” I can’t be sure, but I think I see a flicker of disappointment on Piotr’s face. I don’t think he liked my easy agreement. Perhaps he wanted some resistance so he could bark orders at me once more. “Dinner tomorrow.”

I’m sure he’s going to want a lot more than dinner in exchange for helping Giulia, but I’ll deal with further demands when he makes them. For now, I just want to go back to Damiano’s house in the city, slip into a warm bath, and try to put this horrible day behind me.