Page 40 of Twisted Vows

“And you overestimate how safe I am here.”

That pulls me up short. Her tone isn’t combative—it’s matter-of-fact, like she’s stating a truth I haven’t bothered to acknowledge.

Her eyes sweep the room, landing briefly on the chess set before flicking back to me. “We both know that André is balancing the Five Families with a thread. If the Bratva pulls too hard—or too soft—the whole thing snaps. Men like Sal are counting on that.”

I blink, caught off guard.

She continues, voice cool. “Don’t look so surprised, Maxsim. While the men ignore us, we gather information. The kind that can build or break empires.”

I study her. Really study her.

Not the reluctant bride. Not the pawn in this alliance.

A strategist.

The kind of woman who understands how power moves in shadows.

I fold my arms. “And what kind of information have you been gathering?”

Ari’s lips curve—not quite a smile, but close. “The kind that tells me that Sal’s not your only problem. You’ve got cracks in your own house.”

My fingers still.

She’s pressing her advantage, but not recklessly. Testing the waters.

I consider denying it, dismissing her, but what would that serve?

Instead, I let the corner of my mouth lift. “Careful, Ari. You sound like you want a seat at the table.”

“Maybe I do.” Her voice softens. “Or maybe I’m just trying to keep this alliance from burning us all alive.”

Her honesty is disarming. Calculated or not, it works.

I drum my fingers once against the desk. “You can visit your Nonna,” I say finally, voice low. “But you’ll take security. No arguments.”

She tilts her head. “Pasha?”

“No. Nikolai.”

She pauses, then nods once. Acceptance, though not without caution.

Ari turns to leave but stops at the door.

“For what it’s worth,” she says without looking back, “locking me away won’t keep me safe. But letting me in? That might.”

The door closes quietly behind her, and I stare at the space she occupied. Tension coils low in my chest. What would happen if I let her in.

Would she sharpen the blades of this alliance or turn them on me?

Ari

The engine hums low in the courtyard, the black SUV gleaming like a loaded gun beneath the overcast sky.

Nikolai leans against the hood, flicking ash from a cigarette with lazy precision. His expression screams cool detachment, but there’s something else.

Maxsim trusts him. His cousin. Supposedly, that means something in the Bratva.

In my world, blood means nothing without proof. Loyalty is a currency that depreciates fast without it.

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