Page 8 of The Mobster's Forced Marriage

But my family quickly forgot about it in the clashes that followed. The timing of Paolo’s revelation aligned with a few dirty tricks from both sides that led to a strong rise in tension between the Messina Clan and the Russian Bratva. It didn’t last long—neither of the families had enough resources to keep it up for longer than a couple of weeks—but it ended with serious losses on both sides.

Was it a bad breakup? Yes.

Could it be a good enough reason for Alex to try to kill me nine years later? Maybe.

You never know what women have on their minds—but in this particular case, it’s a matter of life and death. Literally. So instead of waiting for the next time Alex catches me off guard, I want to find her first and resolve things without having a gun against my head. And the only way to find her without entering the Russian territories is to talk to the only member of the Pushkov family I know.

By the time I get to Riccardo’s mansion, clouds have started to take over the sky, and as soon as I get out of the car I have to zip up my jacket. The wind is rather chilly, but the sun’s rays are still making their way to the ground, dancing on the walls of the castle-like mansion of the don of the Messina Clan.

The gardens stand still and sleepy, and the swimming pool is quiet, so I wave at Marco guarding the entrance and go inside. One of the servants rushes to take my jacket, but I only chuckle and jokingly tell them to mind their own business, taking my jacket with me. I don’t really like the posh interior of Riccardo’s mansion, but it’s something his status demands of him.

The living room greets me with the sound of cracking fire from the artificial fireplace, and I catch Elena’s silhouette in the armchair next to it. She looks almost sleepy with her blonde hair loose and her hand on her round belly. But as soon as I step closer, her blue eyes dart to me and her features immediately sharpen up, her expression shifting into surprise and caution.

Just like Riccardo, Elena doesn’t like being caught off guard.

“Louis, hi.” She gives me a small smile and sits up properly, fixing her loose blouse. “Riccardo isn’t here.”

“I know. I didn’t come to see him.”

I walk over to Elena and take a seat in the armchair next to her while she follows my movements with raised eyebrows. It’s hard to read her expression—she’s as good at hiding her thoughts as the rest of her family—but I assume Elena is curious, judging by the way she tilts her head. She says nothing though, and I take it as a cue to continue.

“I wanted to ask you about your family.”

Elena immediately quirks an eyebrow, and the look in her eyes gets colder. I know, no one in the Mafia world likes to reveal secrets of their own, but I hope she’ll understand where I’m coming from. Still, I can’t help the uncomfortable feeling crawling up my back under the intense gaze of her icy eyes, and I fidget and clear my throat before continuing.

“The other day, I met one of them in neutral territory…well,metis probably a bad word. I was ambushed by one of them, and I’m sure they intended to kill me.”

“But that’s impossible,” Elena interrupts me with a disbelieving frown. “Yuriy and Riccardo have a deal, Uncle wouldn’t break it for nothing.”

“I know, and that’s why I came to you first.” I take a deep breath and lean on my knees, staring down at the floor and looking for words. “I don’t think this, um, attack was planned by your family. I think it was very personal, and…well, as much as I didn’t like it, I don’t want to get this person into trouble with Yuriy. I want to resolve it without everyone else involved, you know?”

I look up at Elena, unconsciously entwining my fingers in a lock. I didn’t even realize how nerve-racking it would be to ask for something from this woman. Elena has already proven herself to be smart and trustworthy, but even after knowing her for almost two years now, I still don’t know how to read her—and that’s what puts me on edge.

What is she thinking about? I look into her eyes, but I see only what she wants me to see. The Russians are too good at this, and I know it’s from firsthand experience. How else do you think Alex managed to get so close to me without revealing her identity? The thought is bitter, and I look away to the floor.God, I was such an idiot…

“Alright. It’s not a bad idea, Louis, but why do you think the attack was personal? And why do you think you can resolve it?”

“Because I know who did it. And I think I know why.”

Does this mean I can deal with Alex peacefully? Oh, I can’t be sure, but the alternative is even worse. Because if Alex really wants to kill me, the only other way to stop her is formeto killher. And that’s not something that I’m ready to do. Besides, I have an idea in mind, and if I get her to hear me out, both of us will only win in the end.

Elena hums and fidgets in her armchair, getting herself comfortable. “Then go ahead. Tell me what you want from me.”

Is that it? Is she gonna tell me about Alex? I glance at Elena with my throat suddenly dry. I’ve never actually done any research on Alex, too determined to leave her in the past, so I have no idea who she really is. And I don’t really want to break that image of the girl of my dreams that I, for some reason, am still clinging to.

But well, it’s time to grow up, huh?

“Do you know Alex?” I sit up straight to look at Elena better, and when I catch a glimpse of confusion in her eyes, I feel a rush of nervousness and add, “She must be a few years younger than you. Five feet tall, blonde, green eyes. Oh, she has a birthmark on her shoulder, about that big, and—”

“Okay, okay, I got it.” Elena chuckles, looking at me with a glint of teasing before the look in her eyes darkens with a sigh. “Yes, I know her. Has she introduced herself as Alex?”

I nod, feeling a weight on my heart. She couldn’t have lied to me about her name as well, could she?

“Well, her full name is Alexandra, so I guess it is fair—but we all call her Sasha. She’s my second cousin from Yuriy’s side. Her mom, Valentina, was Olga Pushkova’s sister—you know Olga, right? Yuriy’s wife.” Elena waves a hand in the air, and I frown trying to catch the meaning through the stream of Russian names. “Well, that’s pretty much all I know about her.”

Oh, come on.

“All?”

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