Page 10

The conversation shifted as the next course arrived. I dug into the meatloaf and chewed slowly, thinking of ways to learn more without raising an alarm.

“This house must have quite a history,” I said, putting down my fork. “How long have you owned it, Gio?”

“It’s been our family for three generations,” Federico answered on behalf of his brother. “Our grandfather acquired it when he first came to America.”

“From Russia?” I asked innocently.

“Our maternal family came from Italy,” Dante nodded. “While our paternal has roots in Russia, as you must know already.”

“Of course,” I nodded.

Lebedev. I turned the name over in my mind again. My brothers had mentioned many crime families over the years, but couldn’t recall them mentioning this family.

“And now you've brought those roots here,” I continued, keeping my tone conversational. “Building an empire of your own, I imagine.”

“Something like that,” Dante replied, his gaze suddenly more penetrating. “We've established ourselves in various...industries.”

“Shipping,” Luca offered.

“Real estate,” added Federico.

“Security,” Achille said with a smirk that suggested 'security' meant something entirely different.

I nodded as if this was all perfectly normal dinner conversation. “Diversification is important in business.”

“Indeed,” Caspian agreed. “And what does your family specialize in, Larissa?”

I felt Gio's gaze boring into me. “Protection, mainly,” I said, thinking of my brothers. “Ensuring that those under our care remain...unmolested by outside interests.”

By the time dessert arrived, I had pieced together some information about the Lebedevs. They controlled shipping routes along the eastern seaboard. They had connections in high places. They were expanding their territory.

All useful information that my brothers would want to know—if I ever got back to them.

As dinner concluded, Federico rose from his seat first. “I'm afraid we should get going. It was a pleasure meeting you, Larissa. I hope we'll see more of you during your stay.”

The others followed suit, offering polite goodbyes that felt surreal given the circumstances. Within minutes, Gio and I were alone in the dining room, the silence stretching between us like a taut wire.

“What the hell was that?” he finally asked, his voice low and dangerous.

I raised an eyebrow. “Dinner? I believe it's a common evening ritual among civilized people.”

His hand slammed onto the table, making the crystal glasses jump. “You know what I mean. The questions. The probing. What game are you playing?”

“Me?” I laughed, the sound sharp and brittle. “That's rich coming from the man who kidnapped me, then introduced me to his family like I was some girlfriend he'd brought home.”

He stood, circling the table toward me. “You're gathering information. I saw it.”

I rose to meet him, refusing to be intimidated despite the way my heart raced. “And you're hiding the fact that you kidnapped me. Why is that, Giovanni?”

He moved closer, crowding my space as he slammed his fists on the table on either side of me, his body bracing over mine as I was half-forced on the edge of the table.

I could smell his cologne, and beneath it, the heady remnants of heat on his skin.

His eyes simmered on mine, burning right through me.

“I still think you're a spy,” he whispered, sending a shiver down my spine. “Tonight, you proved just as much with your line of questioning.”

“And I still think you're paranoid,” I whispered back, tilting my head up at him until our lips were mere inches away. “And clearly keeping secrets from your own brothers.”

His eyes darkened, and for a moment, I thought he might kiss me. For a moment, I forgot everything, including who he was. Who I was.

We stood perilously close to making a mistake, and my trembling knees urged me to stop denying it. The realization that part of me wanted him to was more terrifying than any threat he'd made, so I instantly averted my gaze and tucked my shoulders down.

I heard him release a breathy sigh, the remnants of which I swear I felt on my lips, and then he stepped away.

“You’re going to cause trouble, Ajello,” he said as I walked past him.

“I’ve never been afraid of a little trouble,” I shot back, and when I did, I saw him give me a smoldering, dazed look.

The next thing I knew, I was walking to my room, and he was at my heels. “What is it you plan to do with this information you seek on my family?”

“Nothing if you let me go,” I hissed at him as we climbed up the stairs.

“Were you sent to spy on just me, or my entire family?” he asked.

“Do you even hear yourself?” I shrieked in near annoyance as we reached my door. “I told you already. I. Am. Not. A. Spy.”

And just like that, the moment was gone. Just like that, anything I felt for him burned away in the face of my anger, and I turned away from him.

I made it three steps away from my room door before his hand closed around my wrist, spinning me back to face him. “This isn't over,” he warned.

“Like you’d ever let me forget,” I replied. Then I yanked my arm free and strode for the room, my head high despite the trembling in my legs.

He followed me to the door, watching as I turned the handle. “We'll continue this conversation tomorrow,” he said, his tone making it clear it wasn't a suggestion.

I looked at him over my shoulder, taking in his powerful frame, the intensity of his gaze, the way his presence seemed to fill the hallway.

“No,” I said simply. “We won't.”

And then I stepped inside and slammed the door in his face, the heavy thud echoing with finality.

Alone at last, I leaned against the door, my breath coming in short gasps. Lebedev. The name still meant little to me, but I knew one thing for certain—these people were dangerous, and Gio most of all.

Not just because he'd kidnapped me or because he was clearly Bratva from the nature of their business and conversations. But because when he'd stood so close, looking at me with those whiskey eyes, I'd forgotten to be afraid.