Page 91 of Brutal Promise

“Call me Natasha. Come, sit by me. I haven’t seen Dmitry in over a month,” she purrs.

“Natasha.” I smile and follow her, taking a seat at the table.

Apprehension rises in my chest. I’ve wanted a family, but I’m overwhelmed by so many new faces. They’ve known each other forever, and I don’t belong.

Alena comes towards me as the waiter gathers drink orders.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m not used to being in a room full of family. They’re strangers.”

“It will get easier. Just hang in there.” She squeezes my hand to reassure me.

“Thanks.”

“I hope you ordered a drink.”

“I don’t think one drink would hurt,” I murmur.

A champagne bottle pops. I’m startled. My heart is in my throat.

Everyone is talking to each other, but I’m not Russian. I don’t know what they are saying. I snag the flutes filled with the golden bubbly. Dmitry sits beside me and talks to his mother.

“What did you say?”

“Oh, sorry, we’re getting caught up. She’s been lonely, missing my father. I think the baby news would cheer her up.”

“We can’t say anything, especially since we don’t know who’s after us. Do you want the nefarious men after me to know this?”

I’m peeved that he would consider putting the baby in more danger.

“It’s my mother, Isabella.” His tone is cold. I wonder if his mother will take priority over me.

“I don’t care. No,” I reply, sending him a stern look that says this conversation is over.

“You will not embarrass me in front of my family. I make the decisions, and you will do as I say.”

“Let’s discuss this later. Your family sees us arguing, and they’ll think badly of me.” I survey the table to find Nikolay observing me. “I know they want you to marry a Russian. I see it in your brother’s eyes. You’re putting me in an impossible situation.”

“They will get over it,” he huffs. “Besides, he knows I love you. He adores his wife as well.”

I’m miffed at his lack of empathy. But wait, he adores me?

“I’m not so sure,” I reply, regarding his brother, who is the don. Don’s scare the shit out of me.

“Izzy, is that a pet name?” Natasha interrupts us.

“It’s a name I picked up. My real name is Isabella.”

“That’s so pretty. Anya tells me you will be the first to wear the designer gown you picked out.”

“Really? I didn’t know that,” I politely reply.

“Oh, yes. The shop is for couture designs. We have connections in the fashion industry. So, I haven’t heard any details. How did you two meet? I find it hard to believe Dmitry fell in love so quickly. He’s not the type to settle down.” She sips her champagne and gives Nikolay an eye.

This is not what I expected from his mother. Alena’s words come back to me. The Russians won’t accept the don’s son, who was adopted. He’s young and not Russian-born. It’s obvious I’m Italian, and I don’t belong, either.

I’m sick in the pit of my stomach. Why would the Russians be after me? Dmitry’s family is friendly with the bratva in New York, and now I’m wondering if I’ve been duped. Is his family using me, and do they know more than me? Can I trust them? Do they have their own agenda? What if everyone here knows more than me?

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