Page 68 of Ruthless Vow

“I see that.”

“I’ve been away for several weeks overseas. I only learned of your engagement a few days ago.”

“In case there’s any doubt, you’re not invited to the wedding.”

“If there is a wedding,” he says.

Her eyes widen. “That’s a terrible thing to say. Therewillbe a wedding.”

“We’ll see about that.”

Their gazes are locked, hers fierce. His fierce. Then she spins and stalks away without another word. Nikolai keeps watching her, his blue eyes narrowed.

I realize that I’m holding my breath, witnessing their exchange. Clearly, Sabina holds nothing but contempt for Nikolai.

But Nikolai…there’s something in his gaze as he looks at Sabina. Something I can only describe asprimal.

The man is dangerous. Every bit as dangerous as his father is. But this isn’t news to me or anyone in the Russo family.

Finally, Nikolai turns to Leo, who is watching him with a speculative expression.

“I apologize for my sister’s inability to fake friendliness,” Leo says.

“It’s fine. I appreciate a woman who speaks her mind.”

For an instant, Nikolai narrows his eyes. His lips are pressed together, his jaw tense. And then he exhales, his shoulders relaxing. I feel like in this very moment, he’s come to a decision about something important to him.

“Leo, I need to discuss something with you,” Nikolai says. “Something that can’t wait another day.”

“This is my sister’s engagement party and no place for business,” Leo replies, but I can see that his interest is piqued.

“I mean no disrespect. Quite the opposite, in fact. But again, I ask if we might speak in private.”

He waits. I wait.

And finally. “Very well, come with me.” Leo strokes the inside of my wrist. “I’ll be back in a moment.”

Tensely, I watch him leave with the son of the man who killed his father.

23

Leo

The soundsof conversation and the clinking of glasses fill the air, melding with the music pumping from the speakers. The volume is just right, loud enough to set the mood, quiet enough that people can still easily carry on a conversation.

My phone buzzes and I check the text. It’s from Dante. I read it, unsurprised, then tuck my phone away.

Nikolai and I move to a quiet corner at the edge of the terrace.

He studies me, his blue eyes bright and intense. Then he looks away. I follow his gaze to my sister. She looks radiant tonight. Her dark brown hair falls is smooth and sleek. Her chin, delicate and a little pointed, is tipped up as she looks at her fiancé, listening to something he says, her pale blue eyes fixed on him. She wears a shimmering silver and white gown, her arm intertwined with Roberto’s.

My eyes narrow as I take in the sight of them. Ofhim. Sabina wants to marry him and I have no idea why. I tried to keep an open mind, give him the benefit of the doubt. He’d visited our home last Christmas, before Papa was killed. He’d been rude to the waitstaff when we went out for dinner, dismissed Sabina’sopinions as if his own mattered more, tried to insinuate himself in every conversation, and acted like a sulking toddler when he lost to Luca at pickleball. Any one of those things would have earned my dislike. Put them together and dislike slid down the hill into disdain.

“So…Sabina and that boy…” Nikolai says with his trademark cocky indifference.

I can’t argue that description. Roberto seems like a child. A petulant, arrogant, entitled child. Interesting when he comes from a very average background with little to recommend him. He has no special talent, not music or art or sports. His grades in college were mediocre. He participated in no extracurricular activities. If a bowl of unseasoned boiled potatoes were a person, it would be Roberto Costa.

“Interesting thing about that boy,” Nikolai says. “He’s speaking to Sabina, but his eyes aren’t on her. They’re constantly moving, checking out his surroundings, looking at all the people around him. I don’t claim to be an expert on love, but that doesn’t look like love to me.” He pauses. “Shaking his hand was like holding a dead fish. His posture is appalling. His shoes are scuffed. Has he no pride? No elegance?”

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