Page 67 of Nikola

My papa’s head peeked through, immediately followed by my mama’s, and I couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Come in.” I waved them over, then pulled my white cardigan sweater over my sheer tank top that might be appropriate for Nikola’s eyes but definitely not my parents’. I’d paired it with a pink short skirt.

“You slept in,” Mama remarked as they entered.

Papa ruffled my hair, a warm smile grazing his lips. My papa was a ruthless man, but I never saw that side of him. “Sorry for interrupting you.”

“You two could never interrupt me, Papa.”

He took a seat on the sofa and Mama took her usual spot on his lap. It would be gross with anyone else, but knowing my parents’ love story, I chose to view it as romantic.

“Nikola cornered me in the library.” My chest expanded with hope. “The shithead had so much to say, a real yapper that one.”

“Oh.” I really wished Papa wouldn’t choose today to be so cryptic.

“What’s with the late start to the day?” Mama remarked. “That isn’t like you.”

“I think jet lag is messing with me. Traveling to Italy, then here to Louisiana. It’s catching up,” I lied shamelessly. It wasn’t as if I could tell them what went on with Nikola last night.

“How was your lunch with Kostya? Did it turn into dinner?” Mama asked.

Papa’s eyes narrowed into slits. “I sure as fuck hope he didn’t push it with you.”

I chuckled, feeling my cheeks burn. “It didn’t turn into dinner.”

“Good.” Papa seemed relieved. “When Nikola approached me earlier, he looked like he’d slept in too. Must be something in the air.”

My heart skipped a beat, but I kept my expression blank.

“Mama and I are going back to Italy tomorrow. There’s only so much of the Nikolaevs and the United States we can take. You sure you don’t want to come along with us?”

I leaned back on the windowsill. “My classes are back in session on Monday.”

“I’m sure they won’t mind you skipping a week or two.”

I plastered on my brightest smile as I faced my parents. “Papa, that’s not the way to reach graduation. I want to finish my bachelor’s before I’m forty.”

“I’m just worried,” Papa admitted, then shared a fleeting glance with Mama. “We both want you closer to home.”

He had always been overbearing, always searching for the slightest hint of distress. I loved him for it, but I didn’t need all that protection.

“I know, but I learned to protect myself at D’Arc,” I reasoned. “Isn’t that the reason you sent me there? Besides, you taught me how to shoot from an early age. I’m safe on campus. I’ll be home for Christmas anyway.”

Papa’s hawk-like gaze zeroed in on me, then flitted around my room. “Why do I feel like you’re keeping something from us?”

I squared my shoulders.“I don’t know, Papa. Maybe because your guilty conscience is eating at you?”

Another shared glance between my parents, and Mama signed, “We have to tell her.”

I braced myself, knowing they were about to tell me about my arranged marriage, but I couldn’t deny the hope I felt. Could Nikola have asked Papa to marry me?

“Princess, I don’t want you to overreact. What I’m about to tell you might come as a shock,” Papa started slowly. “I just want you to know that these are difficult?—”

Mama released an annoyed breath, always preferring to cut to the chase. “Papa arranged a marriage for you to keep you safe.”

I swallowed, my heart trying to beat its way out of my chest. “Okay…”

“To Amadeo Marchetti,” Papa added, and I stared at him in shock. Of course I knew this information already, but I thought—hoped—there would be a groom switcheroo of sorts. “The Marchettis are powerful, and should something happen to me?—”