Page 6 of Of Murder and Matrimony

Of course, I didn’t say any of that. In a way, I needed Jason. I was safer as a married woman than a single woman. Hell, I’d probably be safer if I weren’t a doctor, but that was the one thing I couldn’t bring myself to change.

My appetite withered, but still, I ate. I watched the crime documentary and pretended to be as oblivious and interested in it as Jason was. We made out on the couch, and then he cleaned up while I took an after-hours call from a mother who wanted to know whether vomiting up red was an emergent situation. Then I found out her son’s favorite evening snack was red jello.

That call was followed by another from a new mother whose baby woke up hungry every two hours. Jason kissed my forehead and showed himself out while I coached the sleep-deprived mother through a nursing session and reassured her she was doing her best for her baby.

By the time things calmed down, it was nearly midnight. I turned the lights off downstairs and retreated to my bedroom, where I shucked my sweats off and removed my bra before climbing into bed in my t-shirt and panties. When I plugged the charger into my phone, I set the volume on my ringer to the max to ensure I didn’t miss any calls.

I reached for my laptop and opened an incognito browser, then logged into my secret email account, finding a new message from Ivan. He checked in periodically, using a library out of town to log in to his account. He didn’t want to chance somebody in the family finding out where I was. I never even told my brothers because I was worried they would try to bring me home one day.

My mood soured when I read that my family was in conflict with the Italians. It wasn’t the first time they’d butted heads through the years, and it probably wouldn’t be the last. There had been no word from him since that message, sent three days prior. He would have sent more if it were something I needed to worry about.

Satisfied I’d accomplished all I needed for the day, I closed my laptop and set it on the nightstand. Laying down, I pulled the covers under my chin and blew out a long breath, letting myself fall into an exhausted slumber.

Chapter Three

I’d found her.

Or, rather, Cosimo had found her.

I stared at the familiar face on the computer screen, the delicate features a decade older but still every bit as beautiful as I remembered. Olesya.

“Did you hear what I said?” Cosimo interrupted my racing thoughts.

“No,” I admitted absentmindedly, captivated by those icy blue eyes.

“I’ve got an address,” he repeated.

My lips curled in a triumphant sneer. “We’ll go immediately.”

“Go where?” my father asked as he darkened the doorway of my office, hand in his pants pocket. It was casual. Too casual.

Calculating my next move, I leaned back in my chair, matching my father’s body language. “Cosimo found the Zolotov princess.”

He nodded, absorbing the information. “I’ll send a few of my men to retrieve her.”

“I’ll go myself,” I replied a little too quickly. It wouldn’t do to make my father think I had too much interest in Olesya. He viewed emotional investment as something to be quashed. “She’s more likely to come quietly if somebody familiar shows up on her doorstep. She used to think of me as a friend. I’ll use that to my advantage.”

My father puffed out a breath. “Very well. Have you talked to the brothers?”

“No,” I answered.

“We shouldn’t give them any time to warn her,” Cosimo added, pulling his knife out and flipping the blade open. I caught my father’s nearly imperceptible flinch when Cosimo tested the edge with his thumb, caressing it like one might a lover. “My guest tells me the girl isn’t aware of everything happening in Chicago. That’s good for Dante. He can feed her whatever lines necessary to get her home.”

My father cleared his throat. “Very well. Go get her. I’ll make sure the priest is ready.”

“I plan to wed her at the church,” I corrected him. “I’ll give her a week to prepare. We’ll have enough time for some of our family to attend as well.”

“Do you think that wise, given the recent events?” my father asked, his eyes wary. I didn’t miss how his fingers brushed against his healing leg. Coward.

“Given the recent events, I think it’s imperative that we show our strength,” I explained, knowing my father wouldn’t be able to object, given his egotistical need for power. “Having a small wedding at the church flies in the face of what the Russians wanted to accomplish. And to their princess. The blow will sting.”

My father licked his lips, baring his teeth in a twisted grin. “I approve. Leave as soon as you are able.”

“I plan to.”

He nodded and spun slowly, his leg still dragging slightly as he walked out of my office.

I turned to Cosimo, glancing at the knife he still toyed with. “Thanks for your help.”

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