Page 9 of No Promises, No Lies

“Karina doesn’t know shit!” The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them.

His eyes harden to steel, and I can feel the mental slap against my cheek. “Manners, Aurora,” he scolds, his tone chillingly cold and devoid of any compassion or empathy.

I nod, doing my best to look as contrite as possible. “I apologize Papa, but you assured me as long as I remained competitive, anyarrangementwould be postponed.”

Adrik rises from behind his desk, coming around to stand in front of it. I slide back in my chair as far as it will allow.

“You sustained a major injury, Aurora. Dr. Jakes says you’re still having the headaches and dizzy spells.”

I look away, unable to contest facts while also adding Dr. Jakes to a list of those not to trust.

“You can’t even land the triple combination!” My father throws his hands up, shaking his head in clear disappointment.

I don’t dare look at Niko. Oh, how he must belovingthis. All those years of winning gold medal after gold medal don’t count for anything. If I can’t be a source of pride for my father on the ice, then I’ll be relegated to lining his pockets instead, with money and alliances.

Adrik waves his hand and I track the movement. “It’s no matter. Things change and you are a Kostalova. There are expectations that come along with theluxuriesyou enjoy so much.”

The urge to scowl at him is almost worth the slap I’m sure I would receive.Almost. The comment just goes to show how little he actually knows me. He doesn’t allow me enough freedom to partake in any of life’sluxuries. Everyday it’s straight to the rink and straight home. That’s it.Prisoners have more freedom than I do.

“An opportunity has presented itself.”

I dart a glance to the side at Niko and he meets my eye, though his face gives nothing away.

“An alliance.” My father puffs out his chest, proud of whatever it is he’sarranged.

I grip the arms of my chair tightly to keep myself from bolting from the study.“But skating?—”

“If it’s important to you, I’m sure your future husband will allow you to continue your athletic pursuits this year. We can add it as a clause to the contract if you’d like.”

I blink at him.

And there it is.

A futurehusbandwho will control every move I make.Decide for me.Just like how it is now. My temper flares and my cheeks burn with frustration. Pain emanates from my palm where I’ve curled my nails in, digging deep into the soft skin.

The Bratva is in trouble. I’d been kept far away from the business side of things, but even I can sense it.The war Adrik spoke of earlier was catching like embers between the major players in the city. The Italians, the Irish and the Russians. Each one claimed Boston as their own, but there can only be one king.

It isn’t my war. And I wantnothingto do with it.

“If you need an alliance so bad, why don’t you offer Niko up on a silver platter?” I snap, my arm flying toward my brother.The next Bratva heir. “Doesn’t an Italian capo somewhere have some daughters coming of age?”

Niko’s familiar blue eyes,my eyes, flare in response to my outburst. He slowly shakes his head back and forth with a look I know translates into ‘shut the fuck up.’

My father lets out an exasperated sigh. He runs a hand down his face, letting another outburst slide. “If there were any other option, Aurora, I would take it. But I will not compromise your safety. As long as you remain unclaimed, you are at high risk.”

Unclaimed. Like I’m nothing but a valuable possession ripe for the taking.

“Will I have a say?” I start, and my father’s eyes narrow on me, warning me I’m pushing this too far. “In thesuitor...” I continue, the whole idea so archaic and antiquated. “Will I have a say?” I repeat, demanding to know. One glance between the two Kostalov men gives me my answer.

“You’ve already chosen.” There’s a subtle accusation of betrayal within my tone.

“Yes, Aurora. I have chosen. The contracts are being drawn up for you to marry Matteo Carroza, Consigliere of the Italian Mafia. The right-hand man of Cole DeLuca himself.”

A tense silence fills the room. I know exactly who Cole DeLuca is.The Butcher of Boston. The youngest Italian boss Boston has ever seen. He secured his position with violence and bloodshed after an internal war threatened to do the Outfit in.

And Matteo is his right-hand man. There were no good options butthis…

This was theworstone.

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