Page 84 of The Fighter

“He’s Gregori’s only son,” I reply. “If he’s dead, the alliance between VDL and Kutuzovo is done. And you get your life back.”

“But you can’t storm his compound by yourself,” she whispers, her expression desperately worried. “And if Gabriel won’t let Antonio Moretti send you help…”

“Antonio can’t help,” Gabriel says, walking into the room and overhearing that last part. No such thing as knocking for d’Este, I see. “But here’s someone who can.” He steps aside, and I suck in a breath as I see the face of the man behind him.

Andrei Sidorov. The pakhan himself.

What the fuck?

The Sidorov Bratva controls large areas of Russia, Belarus, Romania, Hungary, and Croatia. For Andrei to be here in person…

“Damir Malinov killed one of my emissaries,” he says grimly. “He put out word that the Kutuzovo were interested in negotiating for peace, and when Vassili approached him under a flag of truce, he tortured and killed him.” His eyes are blocks of ice. “My sister Natalya was in love with Vassili. Damir sent her the footage of him being tortured.” He holds out his hand to me. “Andrei Sidorov. Let’s go kill the bastard.”

54

ALINA

The man I love is going off to war, and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it. “I want to come,” I say, but even as the words leave my mouth, I know what Tomas’s answer is going to be.

“Dolcezza, no.” Tomas’s expression is anguished. “Please don’t ask again because I can deny you nothing. But it’s not safe for you.”

He’s right. I know he is. The only time I’ve shot a gun has been in a training range. If I go with Tomas, his focus will be split. Rather than concentrate on taking out Malinov, he’ll be worrying about me.

I want to go. God, I don’t want to let him out of my sight. But if I do, I’ll be putting him in danger.

“I’m not going to ask again.” I pull him close and press a hard kiss on his lips. “But come back to me, you hear that? You promised me sexy wrestling in your home gym, and I intend to hold you to that promise.”

“I’ll be back before you know it,” he murmurs into my mouth. He pulls back and looks into my eyes. “Don’t worry, dolcezza. If I die, it’ll be of rat poisoning under suspicious circumstances.”

A reluctant smile forms on my lips. “I already told you I’m not planning on poisoning you,” I tell him. “Not until I find out who’ll inherit your share of the gym.”

He laughs softly. “It’s you, Ali. I had Daniel draw up the papers earlier this week. You are now the sole owner of Groff’s.” A look of distaste flashes over his face. “And the moment we go back to Venice, we’re renaming the gym.” He kisses me again, a slow, lingering kiss that feels like he doesn’t want to leave. Like a promise for a long and happy future. “I love you, Alina Zuccaro.”

I’ve wanted to hear those words for so long. But he says them to me, and my heart clenches with worry. “I love you, Tomas Aguilar.” The words spill out in a rush. I didn’t say them to him earlier, when we were at La Llotja. I was going to, and then the sniper shot at us. And this isn’t the right time for grand declarations of love, but I can’t let him go without telling him how I feel. “I love you so much. I was ready to murder you when you walked into my gym, but what I didn’t know then was that that day was the best day of my life.”

His eyes soften. His gaze locks onto mine, and there’s so much emotion there that my heart begins to swell. He lifts his hand and strokes my cheek, and I turn into his touch, nuzzling into it like a kitten searching for comfort. I want to cling to him and beg him to stay, but I make myself be strong. “Be safe. Please.”

“I promise,” he says again. His fingers linger on my face for a long, infinite moment, as if he’s trying to memorize every detail of my face, and then he slowly lets go. “I love you and you love me, and that’s all that matters. This is a blip, Ali. I’m going to take care of Malinov, and then I’m going to come back, and then we’re going to live happily ever after. That’s a promise.”

And then he’s gone.

55

ALINA

We’ve decided that while Tomas is gone, I’m going to remain in Gabriel d’Este’s house. A butler—of course, there’s a butler—shows me to a small living room where I can wait. The walls are covered from floor to ceiling with bookshelves. Normally, I’d be snooping—you can learn a lot about a person from their reading tastes—but I’m too stressed.

I pace back and forth, clutching my phone, looking at the screen every few seconds as if Tomas is going to stop in the middle of killing someone to text me. I’ve done one hundred and twenty-seven laps of the room when there’s a knock on the door.

My heart jumps into my throat. “Come in,” I call out. Is it Gabriel? Is it over? It can’t be; it’s only been twenty minutes since Tomas left with Andrei Sidorov and his two bodyguards. Is it bad news?

A woman enters the room. She’s of medium height and build, dressed in a red T-shirt and cream shorts, with chestnut-colored hair falling in lustrous waves around her shoulders. “Alina, hello,” she says with a warm smile, holding out her hand to me. “I’m Cecelia d’Este. Gabriel’s wife.”

“Good to meet you,” I reply, though I’m really not in the mood for pleasantries.

“No, it’s not, is it?” Her expression is knowing. “I’ve been in your shoes. The last thing you want to do is make small talk. But when the same thing happened to me, it helped that I wasn’t alone.” She kicks off her shoes and curls herself into a deep blue armchair. “Please feel free to pretend I’m not here.”

I think I already like her. “This is my battle,” I blurt out. “I should be fighting it. Instead, Tomas is putting his life in danger because of me. His life was perfectly peaceful until I came along.”

---