Page 57 of Merciless Queen

Two hours is one-hundred and twenty minutes too long to be sleeping on him.

I curse again, shaking my head as I peek out the window across from us, watching the tarmac rushing by until the plane eventually slows to a driving speed and I make out our exact location.

Because there’s one building that stands out among the tree line. One building I wish I was awake to see from the sky beforedescent. Circular, built with stone that was once strong enough to host the country’s greatest shows and performances, but is now crumbling from the natural disaster it once endured and is nothing beyond being a trap for tourists’ money and the history its walls cling to.

The Colosseum.

We’re in Rome.

Once the pilotgets the door open, my soldiers move as one and head for the exit. Only Elio lingers, jerking his chin toward Vanessa with a silent question only my lengthy relationship with the man is able to distinguish:Need help?I shake my head and he trails after the others.

When the plane’s empty, I stand, rubbing a hand down my shirt as my gaze goes out the window and over Rome’s skyline. We’re not too far from the city, on private land the Cosa Nostra owns and uses for the couple of jets stored here.

Just from the breeze that enters the plane through the open door, my lungs expand, taking in the same air I’ve breathed my entire life. While Russia was beautiful, its buildings with colourful and uniquely shaped roofs, it’s not the same. It’s not home. I’ve anticipated returning here the moment I left but never did I imagine my homecoming would bring a Volkov along too.

My past self from five years ago, when becoming a capo, would have rather offed himself than do what I am now. Every promise I made within the agonizing seven years spentfrom Padre’s death to when the Commission recognized my worthiness, is broken. Crumbling alongside our arrival.

The sun rays coasting in through the window across from our seat fall right on Vanessa, and I can’t help but look at her as she’s watching me. It makes her dark hair glow, the pupils of her eyes expand and mingle with the soft blue.

Bellissima. It might feel wrong to admit, but it’s not untrue whatsoever. I thought it the second I saw Vanessa in pictures, and the first time I stalked her through Moscow, and definitely when I spotted her in the club the other night. No matter what happened in the past, I’d be a fool to deny she’s sexy and beautiful.

Shaking my head of those pesky thoughts, I reach for her. Another time, another day can be for mental betrayal, but for now, I want to get her to my casa and behind a locked door. I grab the short chain linking her wrists together and haul her to her feet, despite how she leans down, trying to make her body weight heavier. The little extra weight pushes down on my leg injury from getting shot, and it stings, even if I don’t show her that.

“Nice try.”

Once she’s upright, I grab her arm and shove her in front of me to walk down the aisle. If I know my soldiers, most of them are still lingering outside, so even if she entertains bolting, she’d only make it a single step before getting tackled.

I nudge her down the stairs, past the soldiers, and through the open door of the black SUV waiting for us. My push is harder than intended and she falls forward, catching herself on bound hands before righting herself. Her glare slices through me, so easy to ignore, as I climb in beside her.

“Guida,”I command the driver to drive, and he obeys immediately, the SUV’s tires rolling smoothly over the tarmac.

Vanessa’s glare remains unblinking even as the vehicle hits theautostrada. It becomes eerie. A reminder that she’s a trained killer and is likely planning something in that head of hers.

Breaking the silence—and maybe even her thoughts—I ask, “Why’d you never leave Russia after your father’s death?”

I imagine the woman beside me exploring all the countries she never got to while growing up. A woman by every means, but one with childhood excitement; widened eyes being opened to the world and all its wonders as she struts through Venice, England, Paris, and all the other magical places.

“You’re that bored, you thought small talk is the way to go?” She flips her hair and gazes out the window, aiming to ignore me.

“Maybe I’m trying to get to know you better.”

She snorts, still facing away. “I don’t give answers away for free. For every question you ask, I get to as well.”

There’s no good reason to entertain this negotiation, and yet I find myself agreeing with, “Okay,” as the curiosity of what she’d possibly ask me grows.

She faces me again, her expression guarded. “I love Russia. Never had a reason to leave.”

“Not even to explore the world?”

“That’s two questions.”

“Answer it and then ask two of your own.”

She presses her lips together and shakes her head. “Home is…well, home. I’m sure, even you can understand that sentiment. New York disgusted me. It’s noisy and dirty and packed with traffic and rude assholes who screamed at one another. In that one city, my life changed. Consider me uninterested in getting disappointed by other countries. Besides, as Pakhan, I’m too busy. My takeover wasn’t simple, which I’m sure you’re aware of after all your stalking, and I’m worried that a vacation would invite others to move in on my role.” Withoutwaiting a beat and letting me digest her answer, she jumps into her first question: “My turn. Are you planning on killing me?”

I keep my attention straight through the front window, watching the traffic ahead of us. “No,” I tell her the truth. She’ll wish she was, if I know even a fraction of her.

“What exactly was the deal made with Ivan?”

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