Page 62 of Dark Desires
Dad is across from him, his jaw tight and his hands clasped on his knee, a sure sign he’s barely keeping his temper in check. And to the side, perched on the edge of the couch like she might dissolve into tears at any second, is Stephania.
All three of them turn to look at me when I walk in. Christian’s expression is calm, almost amused, while Dad’s face darkens.
“Isabella,” he says sharply. “What are you doing here?”
“Uh, I live here?” I shoot back, my gaze flicking between them. “What’s going on?”
“Family matters,” Christian answers smoothly. He stands, adjusting his tailored suit like he’s preparing to give a speech. “You have a knack for walking into interesting situations, don’t you?”
My skin prickles at his tone. He’s trying to disarm me, to throw me off balance, but I’m not about to let him win. “Funny. I could say the same about you.”
“Isabella,” Dad warns, “this is not your business.”
“Like hell it’s not,” I snap, crossing my arms. “Why is he here?”
Christian smiles, then begins. “I came to address an offense. Your father and I seem to have a disagreement about what’s best for our families. It appears he’s decided to align your cousin with the Ivanov Bratva.”
“Alexei.” The name slips out of my mouth. Right away, I wish I hadn’t said anything.
“Yes, Alexei Plushenko,” he says. “A half-breed mutt of the Bratva, unworthy of a Mancini woman.”
My father leans forward in his seat. “Watch it. You’re a guest in my home, Christian.”
Christian doesn’t flinch. If anything, he seems amused.
Unpleasantly enough, what he just said about Alexei sounds precisely like something my father would say. Now that I see Christian here, however, so eagerly pitching his own son for a marriage with Stephania, and as much as I am still an advocate for her freedom of choice, suddenly, my cousin’s romance with Omar no longer sounds like the sweet deal I hoped it would be. Suddenly, I see a sour sliver of sense in my father’s decision.
“I’m merely stating facts,” Christian says. “You know as well as I do that alliances are about strength, about legacy. The Mancinis and the De la Rosas—nowthatis a union worth celebrating. Omar and Stephania, not this arrangement with Plushenko.”
My stomach twists as I glance at Stephania. She’s staring down at the ground in front of her.
“You want Stephania to marry your son?”
Christian shrugs. “Why not? He’s educated, capable, and loyal to his family, unlike certain others.”
“Enough,” Dad snaps. “I’ve already made my decision, and it stands. Stephania will marry Alexei Plushenko. That’s final.”
Christian’s smile fades, his eyes narrowing. “Domenico, I’m warning you. This path you’re on—aligning yourself with the Ivanovs—it’s a mistake. One that will cost you dearly.”
“Is that a threat?”
“It’s a promise,” Christian replies. There’s a chilling calm to his voice. “You’ve insulted my family and my legacy by announcing this engagement without consulting me. Do you really think I’d let that slide?”
My father stands. “You don’t scare me, Christian. And you sure as hell don’t dictate what happens in my family.”
“Then you’re a fool,” Christian says, his calm cracking just enough to reveal the steel beneath. “You’re choosing war over peace. Don’t say I didn’t give you a chance to reconsider.”
Stephania makes a small noise, like she’s trying to hold back a sob. I move toward her instinctively, sitting next to her on the couch and wrapping an arm around her shoulders.
“It’s OK,” I whisper.
Christian turns his gaze on Stephania now, his expression softening just slightly. “You deserve better than this, my dear.”
“You’ve overstayed your welcome,” my father says.
Christian looks back at him, his smile returning. “Very well. I’ve said what I came to say.”
With that, he buttons his jacket and nods before turning and walking out.
