Page 55 of Thorns of Death

“I’ll ask Alexei for a favor.” Kingston’s voice turned a notch darker. “Don’t go in and ruin the peace we’ve built for the Omertà.”

“I don’t like the Nikolaevs knowing about Isla.” She was my responsibility. My woman.

“Alexei won’t share anything with Konstantin,” Kingston assured. “He only has eyes for my sister—” It would seem my poker face was nonexistent when it came to Isla Evans. “—and considering Tatiana was just kidnapped by Konstantin and wedded, it’s a safe bet.”

Well, fuck me.

It was easy to keep up with everyone’s business relationships. Personal ones, not so much. I completely forgot that his sister married Alexei Nikolaev.

I let out a sardonic breath. I wondered how long it’d take Konstantin to wait for Tatiana to be ready for him. It turned out he was done waiting. The timing might work out perfectly for me too.

“Okay, but if one thing is off, I want to know about it.”

* * *

My dark mood lingered for the day, even after I learned that Isla was safe and sound and back in Konstantin’s castle.

The need to storm that medieval establishment itched under my skin, urging me to start a war. The sooner Isla was under my roof, the better. She belonged undermyprotection.

I sat in my vineyard, waiting for Enzo and Amadeo to get their teenage asses into gear. When I was a little boy, the harvest usually started mid to late August. In recent years, we’d been picking grapes in October, which was what we’d be doing today to kick off the harvest. Together as a family. It was a family tradition that dated back five generations.

Manuel sat next to me at the table that sat here even when I was a little boy. He was ready to kick off the grape season too.

“What’s with you?” Manuel asked. I rubbed my eyes, exhaustion weighing me down. The last time I slept well was that first night I fucked Isla. Damn Costello interrupted my sleep that morning, but it was still the best sleep I had gotten in years. “Isla’s safe under Konstantin’s protection.”

I didn’t turn my head, instead keeping my eyes locked over the horizon. If there was heaven on earth, this was it. The vineyard stretched as far as the eye could see and beyond it lay a clear, blue sea. This should have been my life. Not Omertà. Not being the head of the Marchetti family.

Yet, here I was, weighed down by responsibilities that threatened to drag me under. I’d gotten a taste of heaven and now I wanted more of it. Although I didn’t really deserve it.

Unlike my brother, I was good at running both our empires. The criminal one and the legitimate one. At least until my sons were old enough to take over. A part of me didn’t want this life for them, but the cycle would repeat. One of them wouldn’t have a choice, just as I didn’t, and the other would get to decide whether he wanted to be in the underworld, or get out completely. I feared both Enzo and Amadeo would throw themselves into the Omertà and thrive in it.

“I need Isla out of Russia so I can bring her to my home and put a ring on her finger.”

“So you’re going through with it?”

“I've made my decision,” I snapped, my tone sharp. “Stop asking, hoping for a different answer.” I had never been more certain of anything else. The only worry swarming my mind was the fucking curse, but as long as I kept her from truly loving me, it should be a nonissue. Only women who loved the Marchetti men ended up dead—gunshot, knife wound, poison. No leads nor motive.

Clearly Isla didn’t love me, since she didn’t have any issue walking away from me. That would keep her safe at the very least.

But even as the ideas played in my mind how to keep Isla close to me—and her heart still at bay—I knew I was lying to myself. I wanted to be her everything. The air she breathed. A shoulder for her to cry on. Her strength. Her weakness.

Bottom line, I wanted to consume her and let her consume me.

“I hope you know what you’re doing,” Manuel reasoned. “This could cause a war not only with Konstantin, but also with the Brazilian cartel.”

“Not if she’s my wife.” I stood up, hearing my sons’ approach. “Let’s pick grapes. After dinner, I have to run to town. I’m picking up a wedding dress.”

Manuel’s eyebrows met his hairline. It’d be comical if I weren’t in such a piss-poor mood. “You had a wedding dress made?”

“Yes. And I’m taking my mamma’s wedding ring.”

“Sorry, Papà,” Enzo and Amadeo both uttered at the same time. “We were playing Call of Duty and couldn’t die.”

“Ah,Dio mio,” I muttered. “We better hope we don’t die in real life.” I tilted my chin to the baskets that waited for us, signaling for them to grab them. “Allora, time to kick this off. May the best man win.”

For the next three hours, we raced to fill our baskets with as many grapes as we could. For the first time in decades, neither my mind nor my heart was in it.

Instead, my thoughts were in Russia with the young woman who liked to push my buttons.