Page 47 of Of Murder and Matrimony

Ettore relaxed in his seat, folding his hands on the table. His lips twisted into a triumphant grin. “I knew you were aware of more than you let on. No woman growing up in a Bratva family could be clueless. Thank you for such valuable intel.”

The blood drained from my face, and the edges of my vision blurred as I realized what I’d done. My stomach roiled, every bite I’d taken pressing against the back of my throat.

“Sit down.” Ettore pointed to my chair, his icy glare daring me to defy him.

I could barely think, let alone rebel. My ass hit the seat hard, and I puffed out a breath. Ettore resumed the conversation like nothing was wrong, but my mind raced in silent panic even as I forced myself to eat.

After an interminable amount of time, Ettore wiped his mouth and tossed the cloth napkin on top of his empty plate. “Thank you for joining me for dinner. Lovely conversation. Perhaps we should do it more often.”

Dante and I stared wordlessly as he rose and strode from the room, his back straight though he limped slightly with the use of his cane.

As soon as his footsteps faded down the hall, I let out a frustrated shriek, curling my fingers into my hair and raking them along my scalp.

Dante pulled me from my chair and into his arms, whispering soothing words. “I’m sorry, Olesya. I didn’t know.”

“You didn’t stop him!” I accused, pounding my fists against his chest. “You let him plot to murder my brothers! My only remaining family!”

“It would have been futile.” Regret flashed across his eyes, and he let me take my anger out on him. “I promise I’ll do what I can to avoid killing your brothers, but going against my father will only make him more determined.”

Logically, I knew he was right, but my chest ached with the desire to race to my brothers and warn them. Dante would never allow it. He hadn’t even let me call them since I’d been back in Chicago.

“I’m tired.” I sighed, defeated, and pushed away from Dante’s hold. “I’d like to go to bed now.”

Dante’s assessing eyes held mine for a long moment before he finally looked away. “I’ll walk you to your room.”

He didn’t try to touch me as we ascended the stairs and only gave me the slightest brush of his lips against mine before I opened my bedroom door.

“Get some sleep,” he said, tucking a stray hair behind my ear.

I watched his back as he turned and entered his office, the door closing softly behind him. There was no chance of me sleeping. I angrily stripped out of my dress and slipped into a pair of silk pajamas. Then I paced for hours and concluded that there was only one course of action. I had to warn my brothers.

When it was late enough that I was certain everybody in the house was asleep, I opened my door a crack and peeked out into the hallway. Diego hadn’t been posted outside my room, which meant Dante wasn’t concerned about me trying to get out. Good. That would work in my favor.

I clung to the railing as I tiptoed down the stairs in search of a phone. I didn’t want to risk Dante hearing me if I tried to enter his office. When I reached the lower level, I glanced around the living areas. No phones.

That left Ettore’s office and the kitchen because the dining room didn’t have a phone. I’d never willingly enter Ettore’s office, and I knew the kitchen had a phone, so the decision was easy. I could probably duck into the pantry to keep my voice from echoing.

“What are you doing down here?”

I gasped and froze, my eyes darting around until I found Ettore leaning against the wall, still wearing his suit pants and a white button-up, his arms crossed over his chest. He’d rolled his shirt sleeves up, leaving his forearms bare. I couldn’t see his expression well, but his words sounded suspicious. I weighed my options, knowing I could outrun him since he didn’t have his cane. But I still lived in the same house, and there was no way I was fast enough to escape the guards on the property.

“I couldn’t sleep,” I answered, trying to keep my voice even and light. Unaware of how long he’d been watching, I tried to think of a good excuse for my behavior. “I thought maybe I’d find a movie to watch, but then decided I would rather have a midnight snack.”

“I see.” His tone said he didn’t believe a word coming from my mouth. “Well, then, I’ll join you.”

Before I could answer, Ettore stepped away from the wall and took my arm, pulling me along to the kitchen and finally releasing me when we reached the counter. Using the moonlight to guide him, Ettore reached for a bottle of wine and two glasses, placing them between us. I jumped when he opened the bottle, and he chuckled under his breath, then poured us each a glass.

Pointing to the glass closest to me, he demanded, “Drink.”

I picked it up, sipping the dark red liquid. It was smooth, with tart berry notes. Setting the glass down, I swirled the wine and watched it move like blood in the veins.

Ettore moved with grace, every action precise, like a well-choreographed dance. His muscles flexed beneath his shirt as he gathered a plate and knife, then reached into the refrigerator for a hunk of cheese and sausage. I glanced at the phone anchored to the wall and wondered if I’d still be able to call my brothers.

“I often find it difficult to sleep,” he admitted, drawing my attention as he set the food on the plate and used the knife to slice the cheese and meat.

“I’m sorry.” I didn’t know how to respond or what kind of answer he sought.

He placed the cheese on the meat and handed it to me, his fingers close to my lips. “Eat.”

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