Page 31 of Bratva Bride

"If you weren't Illayana's brother and killing you wouldn't incite a war, I'd slit your fucking throat," Arturo growled.

Lukyan took a step backward, his eyes flashing with excitement. He had a broad smile on his face as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a blade.

"Well, let's ignore all that then, shall we? Right now, I'm just a man who wants you to get the fuck out of my house." He twirled the blade around his fingers, something he always did when he was excited. “Come on big boy, let’s dance.”

"Lukyan. Enough," a deep voice commanded. I didn't have to turn around to know my father had joined us.

Lukyan stiffened, his eyes darting to the approaching figure behind me. He cursed in Russian as he put his knife back in its sheath. He did not look happy to have been interrupted but then again, he'd always been that way. You tell the kid not to do something and it's all he wants to do.

My father stepped up to my side, wearing plain grey sweatpants and a dark t-shirt. The only time you’d see him out of a suit was right before bed. His black hair was still damp from his shower and the pronounced lines on his face showed how exhausted he was.

He flicked his eyes over Arturo briefly before pinning his gaze on Lukyan. "Go on, get out of here. I'll explain everything tomorrow."

"But-"

"No buts, Lukyan!" Father snapped. "Go and go now. You two as well." He flicked his wrist at Aleksandr and Nikolai. They all bowed slightly before making their exit.

Lukyan scowled at Arturo, giving him the middle finger as he walked away.

Arturo chuckled. "I like him," he whispered into my ear, sending shivers down my spine. "He reminds me of Vincenzo. Brothers - you love them, but you can't help but want to beat the shit out of them at the same time."

"Lukyan has that effect on people," I replied, laughing.

"Oh, I can tell."

He turned to face my father full on, eyeing him curiously. “I have to say, you're taking my presence here quite well. I thought you would have had me shot the second you found out I was here." His eyes lit up with excitement, like he found the idea entertaining.

Crazy. So fucking crazy. But my kinda crazy.

My father shook his head, chuckling softly. Something he would do when a child said something amusing. "Do you really think you were able to get in here without my knowledge?”

Arturo's face dropped instantly, his smile disappearing.

"You were good, very good," Father continued. "But one thing you'll come to realize eventually is that there's always someone out there better than you. That just happens to be me in this circumstance."

"How? How did you know I was here?" Arturo asked, narrowing his eyes.

Father tsked. "Maybe one day I'll tell you. For right now, it is late, and I don’t trust you enough to let you stay in my home. Say goodbye, Illayana, Arturo is leaving."

"But there's things we need to discuss, Father. Details about what's to happen next," I replied, my brows wrinkling in confusion.

"All plans will be made shortly and swiftly, but not now. Say goodbye, Illayana, I will be escorting Arturo to the front gate in thirty seconds." Father clicked his fingers and two of his soldiers moved to stand next to him, one on each side.

I narrowed my eyes but didn't argue. I knew better than that.

I turned to Arturo and when our eyes locked I felt that now-all-too-familiar feeling of my stomach fluttering. "I guess I'll talk to you later?"

His lips curved up into that trademark smirk of his as he spoke his final word in Italian.

"Presto."Soon.

* * *

“Tell me everything!” Tatiana said excitedly, holding her cup of coffee in one hand and a biscotti in the other. She dunked the biscotti in her drink and slurped it into her mouth as I took a sip of my own coffee.

After Arturo left last night, I called her and asked her to meet me at our go-to café. She was all too eager. She was the first person I called when I needed someone to talk to, someone to help me sort through the chaotic thoughts flowing through my mind. She always gave me her brutally honest opinion, no matter how rude or bitchy it might come across. If she thought you were wrong, she told you. If she thought you were acting crazy, she told you. If she thought you weren’t acting crazy enough, she told you. And she didn’t care if she offended you in the process. She didn’t have a filter, was unceremoniously blunt and always spoke her mind. And I loved it.

Excitement flashed across her heart-shaped face, her dark, brown eyes watching me over the rim of her cup. Her long, platinum blonde hair hung in ringlets down her back and she was wearing a simple blue sundress that fell to her knees. She looked like a delicate little angel, but anyone who knew her knew she was the complete opposite.

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