Page 67 of Forced Bratva Bride

I stared at the phone in shock as the silence clung over me. When I first took Larissa, I thought it would be a matter of days, or weeks, before Gastone discovered I had her. But when we flew under his radar and weeks turned to months, everything changed. I stopped thinking of Gastone. I only ever thought of her.

My hands trembled from the knowledge that I couldn’t treat her as merely collateral anymore. To not have her around was an impossible idea. This house, without her, my life, without her, all of it seemed too painful to comprehend.

I heard her laugh drift through the door—a light, musical sound that filled my halls with joy. The smart move would be to tell her about the call, to remind her of the reality of our situation. But for some reason, the idea pulled at my heart, nearly crushing it. She sometimes asked if her brothers knew where she was, and when she did, her question was always laced with hope. If I told her Gastone called, she might wish to leave.

My heart pounded as I realized a nerve-wracking truth: I didn’t want Larissa to leave. I wanted her to stay. I wanted her by my side.

The guilt washed over me. I was keeping a secret by not telling her Gastone called. This time around, I was the one who didn’t deserve her truth.

I needed to clear my head. I knew what the right thing to do was, but somehow, couldn’t muster the courage to do it. Instead, like a coward, I grabbed my keys.

“I'm stepping out for a bit,” I called to her as I passed the sunroom. She looked up from her book, those gorgeous aquamarine eyes catching the light. “Business. Won't be long.”

She nodded, a slight furrow between her brows. “Everything okay?”

“Everything's fine.” The lie came easily, though something in her expression suggested she didn't believe me. In just a few weeks, she'd learned to read me better than people who'd known me for years.

I needed air. Needed to think. And there was only one place where I could do that properly.

***

I parked my Aston Martin in Caspian’s circular drive, the home that also acted as a family home for our younger siblings on and off, when they were between places, and took a moment to collect my thoughts before heading inside.

The security detail nodded respectfully as I passed. Inside, I found Elena in the library, curled in a window seat with a glass of red wine, her dark hair piled messily atop her head.

“The prodigal son returns,” she said with surprise as she looked up from her book. “To what do we owe the pleasure? Caspian's not here.”

“I’m not here to see him,” I said.

“Of course you aren’t,” she sighed. “He’s mad at you, you know?”

I ignored her statement. Of course Iknew. “I came to see you, actually.”

That got her attention. Elena marked her page and set the book aside, studying me carefully. “What's wrong?”

“Why would something be wrong?”

“Because you only seek me out when you need to talk, and you only need to talk when something's wrong. You're many things, big brother, but complicated isn't one of them.” She patted the seat beside her. “So. Talk.”

I sighed and joined her, accepting the glass of wine she poured from the decanter. “Gastone Ajello called me.”

Elena's eyebrows shot up. “About his sister?”

I stared at her. “You know?”

“Gio, please. Give me some credit. Of course I know. Everyone knows now. Caspian told us who she truly is.” She swirled her wine.

I took a long swallow of wine. “It wasn't supposed to be like this.”

“Like what?”

The words stuck in my throat. I wasn't accustomed to vulnerability, even with Elena. “She was supposed to be leverage. A business move.”

“And now?”

“Now I don't know what she is.” I rubbed my face in frustration. “I have... feelings for her.”

Elena's expression softened. “Oh, Gio.”

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