Page 48 of Forced Bratva Bride

“Which items? Maybe I'd be interested in those instead.”

The back-and-forth continued for several minutes, with Larissa employing increasingly creative arguments that the shopkeeper deflected with practiced ease. It was obvious that Larissa had no experience with real bargaining, but her earnest attempts were thrilling to watch. Her childlike innocence was so sincere.

I hated seeing her dig her own grave and noted that the shopkeeper was frustrated, and moments away from ignoring us altogether.

I gently placed an arm around a still-arguing Larissa and smiled at the shopkeeper.

“I'll take it,” I said finally, interrupting what was becoming an increasingly desperate negotiation.

Both women turned to me with surprise.

“The bracelet,” I clarified. “And whatever else she wants.”

Larissa's eyes widened. “Gio, you don't have to—”

“I know.” I pulled out my wallet and handed the shopkeeper my credit card.

Five minutes later, we were back on the street, Larissa clutching a small bag with her new bracelet and a vintage hair clip she'd added at the last minute. The ballerina doll, she decided, wasn’t worth it with the chip.

“You didn't have to do that,” she said again, looking up at me with something like confusion.

“Consider it an investment in peace. Your bargaining was becoming painful to watch.”

She laughed, the sound unexpectedly light. “I'm not very good at it, am I?”

“No.” I smiled, surprising myself. “Your brothers never taught you?”

Her smile faded slightly. “They tried to keep me away from the family business as much as possible.”

“Yet here you are with me.”

“Yes,” she said, her aquamarine eyes meeting mine. “Here I am.”

We continued walking, stopping occasionally to gaze into shop windows or sample something from the street vendors—local honey, artisanal bread. I watched her face with each new discovery, strangely satisfied by her delight.

“Let's get coffee,” I suggested when I noticed her suppressing a shiver as a cool breeze swept down from the hills.

She took a corner table, and I ordered for the both of us at the counter before making my way over to her. Black coffee for me and a hazelnut coffee for her.

“How did you know?” she asked when the server placed the frothy drink before her.

I shrugged. “Lucky guess.”

“No,” she said, stirring in a packet of sugar. “You've been watching me.”

It wasn't a question, and I didn't deny it. “Force of habit.”

“Is it hard? Always having to watch people?” she asked as though she could tell where the habit came from—my dangerous word. “Your family. Are they all like this?”

I leaned back in my chair, studying her. “We're talking about your family today, not mine. You’ve met most of mine, and know more than most.”

She wrapped her hands around her cup, her new bracelet catching the light. I hadn’t realized she’d put it on already, and the sight of it gave me joy.

“What do you want to know?” she asked.

“Whatever you want to tell me.”

She was quiet for a moment, tracing the rim of her cup with one finger. “I know you’re not on good terms with them, but my family is my world. Without them, I wouldn’t be half the woman I am. My oldest brother, Gastone, took over when my father got sick. He was only twenty-two.”

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