Page 89 of Koroleva

Furthermore, they had an altercation which forced his son Salvatore to leave and he also could not attend.

Don Giuliano's mother had recovered, so they decided to travel the three of them to pay their respects and meet me.

The Capuletos and the Vitales dominated the 'Ndrangheta in Calabria.

Once, I heard my father telling Yuri that initially, they were rival gangs, but Carlo Vitale and Fabrizio Capuleto, tired of keeping the territory divided and full of confrontations that diminished their interests, decided to marry their middle children to solidify their power, grow, expand, and become stronger.

That's how Massimo Capuleto married Luciana Vitale, a marriage as arranged as mine with Romeo.

"Giuliano, Nonna, Salvatore," interrupted my father-in-law.

The two men stood up while the grandmother, with a sharp gaze, remained enveloped among cushions. She clung to a polished wooden cane with a silver carved handle featuring three skulls. Could they be the same ones Romeo had tattooed?

"I introduce you to my daughter-in-law, the lovely and charming Nikita Koroleva."

Both Italians looked at me pleased, especially Salvatore, who was outrageously handsome, with steel-blue eyes that pierced your soul.

"Welcome to the family, Nikita," Giuliano murmured.

"Grazie mille!" I replied, earning their favor. "Ma'am," I nodded toward the woman, who stood up using the cane for support.

"Don't strain yourself, Nonna, you're still recovering," Salvatore scolded her affectionately.

"You were the one convalescing after the beating you took last week, you should be ashamed of losing against four of the Montardis. I'm as fit as a fiddle. Let me see this Russian you've married to my Romeo." The woman was spirited. Her expression was more one of displeasure as she circled around me and stopped in front of me. She wasn't taller than five feet, but she was certainly full of spunk. "She lacks flesh everywhere; those hips are not made to bear Capuletos."

"Maybe because they're rather made for breaking necks," I retorted boldly, earning a soft chuckle from Salvatore.

"I hope it's not necks that have slipped between your thighs," she replied in Spanish with a heavy Italian accent.

"No, although I won’t deny that all would have wished for it." Her eyes twinkled and she looked at Romeo.

"Mi piace, she has spirit."

"I knew you’d like her, Nonna." My husband, who had been quiet until then, kissed her warmly.

The grandmother welcomed me and blessed me with two kisses that dampened my cheeks. Giuliano and Massimo started discussing some pending business that made me prick up my ears.

"Romeo, may I borrow my new cousin to open the dance floor?" I would have preferred to stay there gathering information, but Salvatore didn't give me, or Romeo, time to answer. "Grazie mille, coglione!" he exclaimed, dragging me to the dance floor.

"What did you say to him?" I asked uncomfortably. Romeo seemed to want to crush all his bones.

"I called him a jerk, don't worry, he's used to it, I've been calling him that since we were kids, it's a sign of affection from his older cousin."

"It doesn't seem like you get along well," I observed, wanting to know a bit more about him. Salvatore gave me a roguish smile.

"Enough for me to be the elder," he conceded without clarifying much.

He approached the DJ and, to my surprise, requested a cha-cha-cha. "Quién Será," sung by Julio Iglesias and Thalia.

"Let's see how you move, little cousin. Let's find out if Russians are as cold as they say, or actually boiling geysers."

Salvatore pulled my hand to bring me close to him with complete shamelessness. His left arm brushed the line between appropriate and indecent; his right hand interlaced his fingers with mine confidently.

His body was firm and his gaze challenging.

"Be careful, Italian, your daring might just blow you up," I smiled and licked my lips while he laughed hoarsely.

"I'm looking forward to you making me explode."

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