She frowns. "How is that different from being nice?"
“Because ‘nice’ doesn’t work with your sister. If I was nice to her, she’d still be working for the boss who tried to assault her. Twice.”
“I knew it,” Elise hisses, shaking her head. “I told her Roger was a scumbag, but she wouldn’t listen. When she quit, I knew something happened, but she wouldn’t tell me.”
“Great. She’ll be thrilled I filled you in.”
“No, it’s good,” Elise says. “I need to know this stuff.”
“No, you don’t. That’s my point. It’s your sister’s job to take care of you, so she’s doing the best she can. And sometimes, that means she keeps you in the dark and makes decisions for both of you. That’s what I have to do for her.”
“I’m not a child,” she grumbles.
“It’s not about being a child. It’s about having the right amount of information to make a good decision,” I tell her. “You don’t know everything about the world yet. Nor should you. Because you are still a child, like it or not. And your sister doesn’t know everything about my world yet.”
“The Bratva world?”
I nod. “It’s a violent place. That’s why I’m forced to make decisions on her behalf.”
“But not marriage, right?” she asks. “You aren’t forcing her into that?”
I frown. “What did your sister tell you?”
Elise chews on her lower lip for a second, and in that brief second, she looks so much like Belle. “She said she loves you.”
I keep my expression neutral, even as my chest roils with pent-up emotion. “I see.”
“But just because she thinks she loves you doesn’t mean she’s right,” she snaps. “I watched my mom ‘fall in love’ with plenty of assholes in my life. Love doesn’t mean happiness, even if it is real. It doesn’t mean everything will work out in the end. It doesn’t mean shit.”
I lean back in my chair and study her. “People like us… we don’t have any reason to believe anything works out. Not after the way we were raised. It’s why we fight so hard to protect the people in our lives. It’s why you’re working so hard to make sure your sister is safe with me.”
“And is she?”
“She is,” I promise her. “And so are you. I’ll do what needs to be done to take care of both of you. No matter how much you both bitch and moan along the way.”
Elise rolls her eyes. “Pretend to be a hard ass all you want, Nikolai. You and my sister are more alike than you think.”
“What does that mean?”
“You’re a cupcake, too.”
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me,” she fires back, completely unfazed. She stands up and slides her still-full mug to the center of the island. “Also, coffee is disgusting. I don’t know why anyone drinks it.”
Then Elise marches out of the kitchen, head held high.
I can’t help but smile.
* * *
Belle looks incredible in her wedding dress.
But I’m not the only one struggling to keep my hands off of her.
My usual seamstress, Beatrice, had to take off for a family emergency. She had her son fill in for her. Matteo is in his early-twenties—closer to Belle’s age than I am—and he seems to be appreciating the way she fills out the lacy white gown. Especially the sheer panel that runs from hip to knee, which he’s caressing over and over again like it’s going out of fucking style.
“My mom taught me everything she knows. Don’t worry; I know how to handle beautiful things,” he murmurs, glancing up at Belle as he says it. “I’m very skilled with my hands. Have you considered modeling,bella?”