Page 33 of Brutal Promise

I call Anton to come up. I don’t trust a man until I see his eyes. When he arrives, the first thing I notice is his receding hairline. He strikes me as too young to lose his hair but otherwise nondescript. Blending in is essential in all areas of criminal mischief. He meets my steady stare with one of his own and doesn’t back down under my intense scrutiny. He’s passed my first test.

While I tell him what we need, he stands still, reminding me more of a soldier than a street criminal. I mean that as a compliment. Fidgeting means you’re nervous, and if you’re nervous, I’m nervous to have you on my team. I tell him to pick up steaks and tons of sides, enough for him too. It’s going to be a long night. He leaves, and I return to the bedroom to check on Izzy.

She moans as she tosses in her sleep. It’s not the pleasurable sounds I would prefer to hear. I walk to the bathroom to flip a light on, so she’ll see where she is when she wakes up.

I trust no one outside of my family, and even at that, the further I branch out from my family, the more skeptical I become. Izzy doesn’t fit into the fabric of my life, either. If I arrange a marriage of convenience, it will force her to be loyal to me, and she’ll fall under my family’s umbrella. If we’re married, she can’t testify against me, and no one can use her to get to me. I know how witnessing a murder can weigh on a person’s conscience. Izzy hasn’t felt the pain of torture, and I never want her to. Not only does marriage buy her protection, but it also buys us time to figure out who’s after her.

Kirill’s family has some pull, but he can’t give her the level of protection like the Volkovs. I doubt he’s suitable for her, his tastes lean toward flashier women, and only a full-blooded Russian will do because he’s quite the company man. He has plans to move up in the organization.

This leads me to the other rule I hate to break: marrying outside the bratva. How will it play out within my family and my position of power? I will not tolerate anyone questioning my loyalty. Izzy would be the target of disdain from Italian and Russian families. Both will be wondering where her loyalty rests, and rightfully so. If she were Russian, she would know our culture because it can only be learned living in my homeland.

My gut tells me she’s someone’s daughter or granddaughter. I just haven’t figured it out. I need to call Nikolay. It’s late in London, but this can’t wait until the morning.

He answers his phone and mentions he’s getting ready for bed.

“I have a situation. There’s a girl…”

“No, not you. You are the last one to ever let a piece of ass get under your skin.” His rough voice has me thinking I interrupted him and Anya. The two fuck all the time.

“I know. And yes, she’s a fantastic fuck, but I’m beginning to think there’s a hit out on her. Either a hit or someone wants her for something big.”

“Russian girl?” he asks, sounding intrigued.

“No.”

His voice falls, “Oh.”

We discuss the situation and spitball possible scenarios. I find them all unacceptable except one.

“You may proceed but know that you’re making an emotional decision. The Dmitry I know never used to ask questions and would never get married. Just so you know, I am a man in love myself, so I understand.”

“Don’t worry. This isn’t about love. I don’t want the situation to turn on me. You know my rules.”

“I do. It’s a compromise, though, no?”

“I’m basing my decision on the circumstances,” I reply. Am I pussy whipped? After one night? Not a chance.

“I see. Well, you’ll be thirty soon enough. It’s time you settle down. I hear the Italians are trying to get more money for the cocaine deal.”

“I heard.”

“Well, make sure the deal happens, or you and Kirill have another job.”

“Tough to do here without starting a war. One is brewing as we speak.”

“I feared as much. Too many hands are in this deal, and yet, it was one we had to take. It’s like having too many women in the kitchen. They all think they are the best cook and know everything about cooking. It’s the same with mafia families.”

“What else is there for them to fight over? The mistresses are hidden, and they can’t take the frustration of their empty beds out on anyone else. It’s not like they don’t know where their husbands are on Saturday night.”

“That’s true,” Nikolay chuckles.

We chat, and I ask how Roman is doing in Russia, and he says surprisingly well. I say goodnight and hang up. When I hear Anton buzzing to come up, I look at the monitor and see he has his hands full.

He arrives moments after I buzz him in. I open the door, and the smell of good food immediately makes my mouth water. He tells me he ordered the juicy steaks from a place he knows and loaded me up with sides. There is enough here for Izzy to find something she likes. I pay him generously and thank him. He thanks me in our language and dutifully returns to his post until further notice.

I’m pulling food out of the bag when I hear a blood-curdling scream fill the condo. My heart drops faster than the food in my hands. Izzy! I go to draw my stolen 9mm Smith and Wesson andfuck. I don’t have it on me. With care, I approach the room and see Izzy in bed, safe. I glance around the darkness for an intruder, which I know is impossible without a balcony. However, it doesn’t keep me from grabbing my weapon as I place a finger on my lips for Izzy to remain silent.

After I’ve checked the closet and bathroom and deemed them safe, I return to her side to find her trembling. I sit on the edge of the bed and wrap my arms around her.

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