Where the Snow Falls (Seasons of Betrayal Book 2)

by London Miller

  Violet shook her head, knowing the twins probably wouldn’t even hear her as she said, “I’m going to step outside for a minute and ... get something from the car.”

  Or take a break.

  Yes, a break sounded perfect.

  As she suspected, neither of the twins said a thing in response.

  Violet left the boutique with her head down, already digging through her purse to find her cell phone that had probably fallen to the very bottom. Her hand had just grabbed a hold of the device as she bumped straight into a hard, tall form.

  She didn’t know why, but she knew who it was without even looking up. Maybe it was because of the way his pocket-handkerchief folded into three peaks when most people just chose a simple square. Maybe it was the familiar cologne he wore and had used for the majority of her life.

  Or maybe it was his chuckles at her lack of attention.

  Soft and amused, but still unsurprised and dry.

  Her father.

  “Violet,” Alberto murmured.

  Instinctively, Violet took a giant step back as her head snapped up to stare her father straight in the face. Old habits were hard to break, and that was never more evident than when she replied, “Hello, Daddy.”

  But even as she spoke, Violet was looking for a way out of the situation. She glanced back at the boutique she’d just left, knowing damn well two very important people inside needed to stay there, out of sight and safe from whatever might happen next. It wasn’t an option to draw attention to the twins, so she couldn’t go back inside. Her car was parked alongside the street just a few spots down from where her father stood, but she was pretty damn sure her father wasn’t going to just let her pass.

  “Beautiful day, isn’t it?” Alberto asked, lifting a hand toward the sky.

  Snowflakes drifted down slowly around them.

  It felt like time slowed for that split second.

  “It’s cold,” Violet finally said.

  What else could she say?

  Alberto’s sharp gaze swept the street, down beyond Violet’s spot, then to the side, and after he had looked across the street, his attention was back on her. “How was Chicago, topina?”

  Little mouse.

  He’d called her that for years. More than she cared to count.

  But it didn’t quite feel the same.

  Violet chose not to answer, as his question felt like bait, and she wouldn’t be the fool who got stuck on that proverbial hook.

  Alberto didn’t seem to mind. “Your … Russian has quite a way about him, doesn’t he?”

  She did blink that time, unsure of what Alberto was implying. “What is that supposed to mean?”

  Holding up a hand, her father ticked off fingers.

  One, then two, three, four, five, and finally, the sixth on his other hand.

  “Six,” he said quietly.

  Violet forced back the lump in her throat. “I don’t under—”

  “I don’t expect you to,” Alberto interrupted, sharper than before. “If there was anything I tried to do as your father—being who I was in the position that I was—it was making sure your head was thoroughly buried in the sand when it came to business. You didn’t need to understand or see, don’t you understand? It would do no man any good to have a wife who was a little too nosy—too curious.”

  She swallowed hard, eyes darting behind her father to the man casually walking up the street, hands tossed in his pockets and his head down.

  “And yet,” her father continued, gaining her attention once more, “here you are, Violet. My curious little thing—sunny like the brightest day, lighting up everyone’s lives, hmm?”

  It took every fucking ounce of control Violet had not to react to the way her father posed his statement so innocently, like it wouldn’t and didn’t mean a damn thing.

  Except it did.

  He meant his words to soften her, she knew. He meant to remind her of a relationship she’d once thought she had with this man, only to learn it was not as rosy pink as she’d once thought it was.

  Alberto’s gaze dropped to Violet’s hand clenching around the straps of her bag. She knew exactly what he was staring at—her engagement ring.

  Somehow, she managed to stand a little bit straighter.

  “Six,” Alberto repeated, “six men dead because of what you have done with that Russian, and possibly a seventh soul, but we don’t know about Amelia.”

  Violet froze on the spot, finally understanding what her father had been alluding. Strangely, the urge to stare her father in the eye to show she was unaffected by his words rose up hard and swift. “And what am I supposed to do about that?”

  Alberto went in a different direction, sort of.

  “I should have quelled that curious desire of yours back when you were younger,” Alberto said softly, never looking away from the ring. “But I thought it was sweet how your curiosity bled into everything around you, no matter what you did. I thought—stupidly—rules would be enough. That, if I repeated them often enough, you would hear them.”

  “I did hear them,” she whispered.

  “Heeding, however, is an entirely different matter.”

  He was right.

  She didn’t even bother to deny it.

  Sighing, Alberto finally glanced away from the engagement ring she wore to stare her in the eyes again. He offered her a slight smile, though it felt cold and untrue.

  “I hope this taught you something today,” he said.

  Violet’s brow furrowed. “What could you have possibly taught me?”

  “You’re never invisible to me, Violet. No matter how fast you run, or where you try to hide, I will always find you; I can’t help but see you, dolcezza, as you’re too sunny to hide in the shadows like that Russian of yours. You’re impossible to miss. Today, I might not be able to do much—too public—but that day will come.”

  She sucked in a hard breath, refusing to bite the chain her father offered.

  “I’m happy,” she told him.

  Maybe she thought appealing to the side of Alberto Gallucci that was softer than the side he showed to run his family would get her further. Maybe she hoped he would see her words were the truth.

  Violet wasn’t stupid, though.

  The very moment she said her truth, she was well aware it fell on deaf ears.

  She was no longer just Alberto’s daughter. She had lost what sympathy and affection he afforded her when she disobeyed him, when she betrayed him.

  And she wasn’t even sorry.

  Alberto’s expression didn’t waver in the slightest. “Yet I’m not.”

  Violet didn’t even know what to say to that statement.

  Apparently, her father wasn’t looking for a response.

  Alberto turned on his heel, glancing once over his shoulder, his stare dropping to the ring on her finger again. “Nothing, darling, and I do mean nothing, is unfixable. You only have to ask.”

  Before she could respond, Alberto stepped out onto the street, holding a hand high to wave at the car that slowed to let him cross the road. Violet watched her father go until he disappeared around a building and was out of sight.

  It didn’t matter.

  All of the sudden, it seemed she couldn’t breathe.

  One week blended into the next as the wedding quickly approached. Despite the short time period, things had come together rather well, thanks in part to the overzealous females in his family. And now that the Chicago family had flown in, he had spent very little time with Violet as they kept her so busy.

  But that was for the best, he thought, since Vasily had yet to show his face.

  The last thing he needed was for Vasily to make a grand appearance at the wedding.

  He didn’t want anything to ruin that day for Violet.

  Kaz would do everything in his power to make it a good day for her, even if it wasn’t going to be everything of her dreams. It just wasn’t possible with their time crunch.

  It was one reason why he was concern
ed by the current expression on her face.

  Since the day she had gone out shopping with his sisters, she’d had this look, one he hadn’t been able to read. Not quite sure what to make of it, he had elected to give her some time, knowing just how much everything was changing.

  He understood it was a lot to undertake in such a short period of time, so he didn’t want to add more stress.

  But it had gone on too long now.

  “What’s on your mind?” he asked looking over in her direction.

  Violet was scanning through a book of wedding things that Vera had given her. He thought they were on linens for the tables.

  “I’m wondering how your sister keeps track of all this,” she said, gesturing to her lap. “Even I don’t remember half the things I’ve already agreed to.”

  “She probably has it filed away somewhere.” Vera liked things in a particular order. “But this isn’t what I mean.”

  Carefully sliding the book off her legs, he closed it and put it off to the side. “Why do you have that look on your face?”

  Tucking loose strands of hair behind her ear, she asked, “What look?”

  “Like you’ve seen a ghost,” Kaz answered, his gaze darting over her face. “Let me guess … Carmine or Alberto?”

  “Alberto.” She was quick to go on when she saw his frown. “He didn’t say anything, not much anyway.”

  “But whatever he did say is worrying you, no?”

  “What if he does come for me, even if we’re married? Have you considered that?”

  He had, more than once. Though his concentration had focused mostly on Vasily, Kaz didn’t doubt that he had yet to feel the full weight of Alberto Gallucci’s anger. He and Kaz’s father wouldn’t just go calmly into the night.

  “I have, but you have to understand that it won’t be nearly as easy as he may think it. It would be foolish for him to risk a war, not just with us, but with the Chicago family as well. Things were different when no one stood at my back.”

  “I worry about that,” she said softly. “The day my father tries to take me from you. Because he won’t care that I have your last name.”

  “There’s no reason to worry yourself with that. I have it under control.”

  Straddling his lap, she looked down at him with a slight smile. “I know.”

  “Then enjoy this time,” Kaz said softly. “You’re only getting married once.”

  And he was going to make sure it was memorable.

  Constant movement surrounded a stone-still Violet.

  The shuffle of chiffon.

  The sweep of silk.

  Jewelry was handed over, necklaces clasped, and earrings placed properly. The hairdresser who was taking care of the girls moved from one woman to the other, fine-tooth comb in hand to smooth back any stray strands. The woman—a friend of Vera’s, apparently—who had come in to handle the makeup worked on fixing the smudge of lipstick on the left side of Dina’s mouth.

  Still, Violet stood frozen.

  It almost seemed surreal.

  Girls spent a good majority of their life considering their wedding day—what it would mean and how it would happen. She had been one of those girls.

  Yet here it was.

  And there she was.

  Not dressed, though her hair and makeup were done, watching the excited twins dress and Vera fuss.

  Violet thought it might be a little sad, considering she was without any of her family or their acceptance, but it wasn’t that at all.

  She was ready.

  And that was the most surprising thing of it all.

  “Ready?”

  Violet blinked, snapping out of her daze. Vera stood in front of her, a garment bag slung over her arm. She had been ready for this for a while, but she didn’t think that was what Vera was asking.

  “You’ve only got another fifteen minutes, and we have to leave,” Vera said. “Let’s get your dress on.”

  “Sure,” Violet said.

  She followed Vera into a private room just off from the main sitting area of the hotel suite. With the door safely closed behind them, Vera laid the garment bag out and unzipped it to expose rushes of vintage styled lace in a soft cream color.

  For a second, Violet simply stared at the dress as Vera pulled it out with careful hands.

  She’d shopped for it alone, even though Vera had offered and the twins had practically begged to help her pick one out. It wasn’t that she didn’t want them there, or that she didn’t appreciate their willingness to be involved in the wedding and the details, but it was just …

  Something Violet wanted to do alone.

  Picking out the dress had been surprisingly easy once she found it. A backless, form-fitted lace number that showcased skin and curves with every turn. Dangling ropes of pearls that hung down from the small straps around the shoulders and framed the wide-open back only added to the charm of the gown.

  It was not Catholic ceremony approved.

  It would be too daring—a little too free and sinful.

  But Violet thought it was perfect.

  It was also the first time Vera had seen the dress as she helped Violet slip into it.

  “Huh,” Vera said under her breath, taking a step back to admire the gown with soft eyes.

  Violet ran a hand over the skirt of the dress that just began to flare below her hips, but not too drastically that it would put the gown into the mermaid style. It was elegant; the lace hugged her hips and then fell smoothly to the floor.

  “What?” Violet asked after Vera quieted.

  Vera’s gaze snapped up to meet hers. “It’s a beautiful dress. I’m sure Kaz will love it.”

  Violet smiled but didn’t respond.

  Kaz enjoying the dress was just about the only thing Violet had cared about when she’d purchased it. No one else’s opinions were important, though she appreciated the compliment from Vera.

  “I swore …” Vera trailed off, smile fading just a bit.

  “Keep going.”

  “I swore you’d go for something pretty—maybe even princess-y.”

  Violet smirked. “Something safe?”

  Vera tipped her head to the side slightly, not bothering to hide her appreciation in the slightest. “Well, it doesn’t matter what I thought, no? This is …”

  She knew exactly what it was.

  Violet turned to face the large mirror, her hand coming up to rest at her bare throat. The only jewelry she’d opted to wear for the day were a pair of sparkling, dangling diamond earrings with pearls resting on the ends to match the ropes of pearls on the gown.

  “It’s perfect,” Violet said. “How much longer now?”

  “Not very long.”

  “Have you truly thought this through?” Konstantin asked from his position next to his brother with a tumbler of amber liquid in one hand.

  Kaz stood staring at his reflection in the mirror as he arranged his bowtie. Today was the day, and waking up this morning, he had felt the change in the air. The wedding had yet to happen, but he already felt different—more complete almost.

  “It’s a little late for that, innit?” The question came from Alfie, who was sitting off to the side, dressed as though attending a proper English wedding. A top hat rested on his knee, and he held a cane with the head of a lion in his hands. “Here we are.”

  “But binding yourself to one female for the rest of your life … sounds awful.” And Konstantin did truly look sick at the thought.

  “Perhaps you should have voiced these concerns before today,” Rus added. “Let the man enjoy it.”

  Kaz was doing just that.

  No one was going to ruin this day—not for him or Violet. He had placed extra security measures just to make sure no uninvited guests made an appearance. He had also made sure to have it indoors, just in case.

  By the time he finished with his attire, it was nearly time for the ceremony to begin, but before it did, he wanted to make his rounds of the room—make sure he expressed the right amou
nt of gratitude for the people who had chosen to attend.

  It was his job, after all.

  “Let’s go.”

  Kaz was the first to walk out of the room, the others following behind. The distance from the room in which he got ready to the private ballroom he had rented for the day was a short one, and waiting for him outside the double doors was Irina, Maya, and another woman who Kaz had never seen before.

  Though he hadn’t spoken to his mother since the day after she found out about the engagement, he wasn’t surprised to find her here. Unlike that day, she had no trace of stress in her features today—she looked rather happy.

  Weddings did that to people.

  “Look at my boys,” she said with motherly affection, straightening Kaz’s bowtie then smoothing a hand over one of Rus’s lapels. “I couldn’t have asked for better sons.”

  Kaz readied to respond, but the woman who had been standing with his mother snared his attention. She looked out of place almost, at least until Rus offered her his hand, and she willingly, and quite happily, accepted it.

  “You haven’t met Kira, have you?” Irina asked, smiling fondly. “She’s Ruslan’s date.”

  Kaz didn’t bother to try to keep the surprise off his face as he looked at his brother, a silent question in his eyes.

  Rus, who didn’t seem bothered in the slightest of the attention now on him, shrugged. “My tastes aren’t singular.”

  Kaz wasn’t touching that.

  Not even a little.

  What his brother chose to do—or rather who he chose to do—was his business.

  “Let me walk you to your seat, Mama,” Kaz said offering her his arm.

  Once the doors opened, revealing the winter wonderland on the other side, the guests stood. It was only after he walked his mother to the front of the aisle did Kaz go back to make his rounds, making sure he spoke to every single person in the room.

  Then he went back to the front of the room, his hands in his pockets, and waited.

  “Oh, here let me fix that,” Vera said, batting Violet’s hand away from her face.