Page 5 of Twisted Vows

“They’re committed,” Alexey replies, though there’s a slight edge to his tone. “But they’re watching us as closely as we’re watching them. No one’s taking anything for granted.”

I nod, absorbing the information. “So where does that leave you and your beautiful wife, Gianna? Are you two feeling the tension between the families?”

“Nothing will shake us,” Alexey states firmly. “We married for just this reason. To solidify the Volkovs and the Bianchis. And our daughter is the link that can never be broken.”

I let out a low laugh. “You married Gianna because she bewitched you. Not because she’s the daughter of thecapo di tutti capiand the sister of theDon.”

“True,” he replies with a small smile. “But it doesn’t make the other facts less relevant.” His gaze drifts across the room, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studies the people around us. “There’s been talk,” he says, his tone casual, but I know better. When Alexey is casual, it usually means he’s about to drop something significant.

“About what?” I ask, though I already have an idea.

“Ari,” he answers, confirming my suspicion. “The rumors of her match are gaining traction. She’s a crown jewel, and the Bianchis want to solidify power.”

I follow his line of sight and contemplate the rumor I heard a few minutes ago. My eyes land on Ari. She’s talking to another guest, her expression as controlled as ever. I don’t need to hear the conversation to know she’s disengaged—her body language gives her away. She’s doing her duty, nothing more.

“Nothing is decided, though,” Alexey remarks, a hint of humor in his voice. “Would you consider it?”

I don’t answer immediately, taking a moment to weigh the pros and cons. Marrying Ari would be a strategic move, no question. It would further solidify our alliance with the Bianchis and make them think twice before striking.

But Ari is no ordinary woman. She would be a challenge, a constant test of wills. And in our world, challenges can be dangerous. “She’d bring insurance against an impetuous move,” I say, my voice even. “But she would also bring complications.”

Alexey nods as if that’s the answer he expected. “The Bianchis haven’t suggested it, but they could be open to the idea.” He turns and gives me a once-over. “Especially after you pulled the hero act a couple of months ago during the kidnapping.”

I don’t respond, but the question lingers between us. The idea of marrying Ari is both intriguing and unsettling. Every time we’ve been in one another’s company, one of us is flint to the other’s fire.

Volatile doesn’t begin to describe the chemistry that sparks between us.

Alexey leans in as he keeps his gaze moving through the crowd. “There’s something else,” he says, his tone taking on a more serious edge. “We’ve received intel that the Cartels are making moves.”

That gets my attention. “Again? I thought we cleaned out most of their ranks.”

“They have regrouped South of the border,” he replies. “Building their ranks and looking to expand. According to Grigory, there’s been chatter about targeting areas we consider secure. If they’re successful, it could destabilize everything.”

I process this new information quickly. The Cartels are a known threat—ruthless, well-funded, and willing to do whatever it takes to expand their territory. If they’re making moves, it’s only a matter of time before they turn their attention to us.

“And the alliance?” I ask, already knowing the answer.

“It could be the key to neutralizing them,” Alexey says, echoing my thoughts. “If we can present a united front, we’ll have the strength to push back. But if there’s even a hint of

weakness—”

He doesn’t need to finish the sentence. I know what’s at stake. The alliance with the Bianchis, already valuable, suddenly feels even more crucial. But the thought of relying on them leaves a sour taste in my mouth.

“We’ll need to—” The sharp sound of a fist connecting with flesh cuts through the din, followed by a string of furious, muffled voices. Glass shatters. The room freezes. The commotion continues, the noise escalating. My hand tightens around the cool metal of my gun. There’s no telling how quickly this could spiral out of control.

A second crash. Louder this time. Raised voices follow—angry, panicked, muffled by distance. I scan the room, looking for the source of the commotion. A waiter rushes past, shards of glass glittering at his feet, his wide eyes fixed on the ground. Around me, men in suits stiffen, pretending they’re unaffected but too tense to hide it completely.

The Bianchis claim nothing can threaten the Five Families. But tonight, it feels fragile, like one crack could shatter the whole façade.

Alexey pulls out his phone, his face grim. A beat later, he speaks quietly, “Nikolai says it’s handled, but something doesn’t feel right.”

My eyes stay on the doorway. Nikolai steps in a beat later, his smile just a little too tight, his movements too deliberate. “Maxsim. Alexey.” His tone is calm, but there’s something off—something he’s not saying.

“Handled?” I echo, my voice flat.

“Of course,” he replies, brushing off the question with a flick of his wrist. “Just tempers flaring. Nothing to be concerned about.”

That’s the problem. I am concerned.

---