Page 30 of Nikola

No, she fucking won’t.

The idea of Skye in a relationship left a weird taste in my mouth. In fact, it made me want to set this world on fire, but I wasn’t about to let my sister in on that piece of information.

The bottom line was that none of these feelings mattered, because I would do right by her.

Even if it killed me.

It was the best thing for Skye. There was also the fact that Skye’s papa was protective and overbearing as fuck and he hated Russians. And then there was Uncle Sasha… yeah, he was no better, except for the Russian part, obviously.

“I told her I’ll help her,” my sister drawled. “I made a list of potential candidates. Want to know their names?”

“Listen carefully, Marietta. If you give me those names, I’ll hunt down every one and kill them.” She grinned, unbotheredby my threat. “Give those names to Skye, and I’ll consider locking you in your bedroom with only off-brand sweatshirts and sweatpants to wear.”

She chuckled. “Okay, okay. I get the point. Want to know a secret?”

I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Sure, why not.”

“Uncle Sasha is going to Italy. He doesn’t know it yet, but a marriage arrangement proposition will be brought up to him and Dante Leone.”

I leaned forward, propping my elbows on Father’s desk. “Where in the hell did you hear that?”

“Don’t worry about that. All that matters is it’s happening, and soon.”

Marietta had her sneaky ways—mostly by eavesdropping—but she was right; it didn’t matter. The bottom line was that Skye was about to be married off, and I had to do something about it.

10

SKYE

Ientered my family’s castello in Trieste and was immediately surrounded.

“Ah, she’s home,” Cesar, Papa’s right-hand man, greeted me with a big smile on his face. “No boys swept you off your feet yet?”

I opened my mouth to answer when my papa cut in, signing and speaking at the same time, “Don’t be ridiculous, Cesar. Skye likes Italian men, not those brutal Americans.”

My mama sidled up next to him, squeezed his arm, then signed, “You do realize your wife is an American.”

Papa’s expression softened. “But you aretheAmerican, Nix.”

“And what am I?” I signed, smiling. My papa was the only one who called my mom Nix, an abbreviation for Phoenix. He claimed it fit her better since she’d embraced his darkness, and Nix meantnightin Greek.

“You’remia figliaandmio mondo.” He pulled me into a hug, never letting go of Mama. “I missed you, princess.”

“Welcome home, kiddo.” Cesar patted my head and a wave of affection washed over me. He’d been a part of our family for as long as I could remember and I looked forward to seeing himeach time I touched down in Italy. “I fear the day you bring a boy with you. I must procure some more weapons for your papa.”

“What is it with you? That’s the third time today you’ve mentioned Skye having a boyfriend,” Papa retorted wryly. “Are you trying to send me to an early grave?”

Cesar shrugged. “It’s bound to happen, you know.”

“She’s only twenty,” he protested.

“I was talking about your grave, but whatever,” Cesar retorted wryly, rolling his eyes before he continued. “Besides, need I remind you that your wife was eighteen when you got married? Remember how her Cupid’s arrow pierced your heart.”Huh?But before I could ask, Cesar added, “Ah, my bad. That was her gun.”

I shook my head. “I’m too jet-lagged to ask.”

Mama’s face flushed crimson as she signed, “It’s better we don’t talk about it.”

She hooked her arm around my waist, her fingers intertwined with Papa’s, and we walked into the family room—my favorite space in the house. A grand piano sat by the large bay window, where Mama and I had spent many afternoons playing duets while gazing out toward the sea.