Page 14 of Of Murder and Matrimony

“He won’t interfere.” Riona was idealistic if she thought the Irish mob would stop an arranged mafia marriage. “He may be a father figure to you, but he is a businessman at heart. He won’t stop us from an alliance with the Russians if it means ending the war. It’s fucked with his family too much. I’d think you’d be more sympathetic.”

She faltered. “I am. I just don’t think an innocent woman should pay the price for the stupidity of the men around her.”

“She’s not innocent.” I rubbed my jaw, trying to keep the muscles from tensing to the point of pain. “Olesya knew damn well what she was doing a decade ago, running from the marriage our fathers arranged. If she’d been around, the church shooting could have been prevented.”

“But it wasn’t,” Riona whispered. I got a flashback to that day—her standing at the front of the church in a white dress covered in blood that belonged to my brother. I closed my eyes against the memory. Her eyes widened, pleading. “Don’t punish this woman. At least get her consent.”

I stood, walking around my desk and facing Riona directly, daring to reach out and stroke a finger down her pink cheek. She had some balls, talking to me like she was. Luckily for her, she was like a sister, and I would never harm her.

“You’re idealistic,” I mumbled. “In this war, nobody is innocent. Not even my future wife.”

“Dante,” she began again, but I shook my head to silence her.

“I won’t force your involvement,” I conceded. “But that’s as far as I’ll go. Run along home to your husband. I’m sure he’s not aware you’re here.”

Riona scowled at me. “I can go where I like. He doesn’t keep me on a leash.”

“Just guarded.” I chuckled, knowing damn well Romeo had a tracker on her phone. “I need to speak with my fiancée, but I’ll work on that consent you requested.”

“Thank you.” Her shoulders slumped, and she shook her hands, letting the blood return to her white knuckles. “That’s all I ask.”

I leaned forward, giving her a quick peck on the cheek, then ushered her out the door, where one of Romeo’s men awaited. He shot me an apologetic look before leading her back downstairs.

Sighing, I made myself a cup of coffee and sipped it black, punishing myself with the bitter heat. Perhaps I should care more about what I was doing to Olesya. Maybe even feel remorse.

But I didn’t.

I enjoyed it.

While I waited for Olesya to join me, I had Martina bring up a lunch of pasta salad and grilled chicken, figuring my fiancée would be hungry. She’d refused breakfast earlier, but I’d been too busy to go encourage her to eat. I doubted she’d let herself starve.

Martina bustled through the door without bothering to knock. She got a pass for that since she’d once changed my diapers. After setting the food on a small table between two plush black chairs on the other side of my office, she clasped her hands in front of her stomach. Her greying hair was pulled back in a tight bun, and her black apron had flour marring the surface.

It reminded me of how she and my mother used to cook together, gossiping and laughing as they made fresh bread and pasta. It was odd to see her yet not find my mother nearby. The passing months still weren’t enough to dull the ache that surrounded my heart.

“Is there anything else you need?” she asked, tipping her head to the side.

“No, thank you, Martina.” I offered her a shadow of a smile as she left and rose from my desk, pressing my fist into the small of my back to relieve the pain that settled there after hours of sitting. Running a crime empire was a lot less exciting than most people thought. Sure, I killed people, but mostly it was sending coded messages and networking to get what I wanted.

I’d just approached the food when there was a rap at the door. “Enter.”

Stefano opened the door, and Olesya strutted in stiffly, disdain narrowing her eyes and twisting her lips downward. It didn’t surprise me when her words dripped with more of the same. “You rang, oh great one?”

I thought I caught my man muffling a chuckle, but he closed the door before I could question him. I focused on the upset woman keeping her distance. “A little time hasn’t mellowed you, I see.”

“Twelve hours really can’t counter kidnapping and drugging somebody.”

“Are you still feeling the effects of the medication?” I motioned to the chairs and waited for her to saunter across the room, eyeing me like I might bite.

“No.” Olesya sat carefully, crossing her long legs.

She’d worn a simple black cotton dress appropriate for a summer day and fit her body like a glove, modestly covering her cleavage and ending just above the knee. Stefano reported earlier that she’d made use of the shower after sleeping in, and her hair still hung slightly damp around her shoulders, making it appear darker than it was. She was a natural beauty with smooth, pale skin and icy blue eyes. With the way she was glaring at me, I’d bet money she would stab me if she had something sharp.

“Eat.” I pointed toward the pasta salad, but she crossed her arms over her chest.

“I’m not hungry.”

I didn’t have any such reservations. I picked up my bowl and dug in, eyeing Olesya from the corner of my eye as she watched. “Care to enlighten me on how long your food strike will last, so I can tell Martina not to waste time and resources preparing meals for an ungrateful brat?”

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