by Bethany-Kris
Her heart clenched painfully, lungs shuddering with an exhale that stung. “Stop it. That’s not true.”
“It is,” Anton insisted. He squeezed tighter and pleaded with blue eyes that held such a sober clarity for a man who handled drugs and a dozen other illegal things on a daily basis. “And when Nicoli died a few months later from that heart attack, I was put in the spotlight again. I wasn’t ready for their attention, or their expectations, but I didn’t have a choice. This is life for me, forever. Between the feds following me, trying to be who the Bratva needed me to be, and your uncle keeping you locked away…”
“I could have left!”
“Could you?” he shot back. “Do you even know why he allowed you to go to Toronto?”
Of course she knew. “Because I wanted to continue with school somewhere where no one would recognize me, or my last name. I wanted to start fresh.”
His laugh was sharp and bitter, a stab to her confused heart. “Illegal weapons’ charges on my rap sheet mean I can’t cross the borders unless my papers are fraudulent. I took a five month sentence and two years’ probation for it. He thought with you there, I wouldn’t be able to watch so closely. But, the Bratva are not so different from his family, and we have eyes everywhere.”
Tears welled behind Viviana’s clenched-shut lids. All she heard in what he said was that he’d watched her struggle for the last three years without ever stepping in. “Sonny will kill me. He’ll kill me for this, Anton!”
Anton was suddenly millimetres from her face, his sweet breath washing over her senses in waves. “You’re safe here with me. This is only one of my safe houses, with motion sensors on every floor and responding panels in every room that lights up to show where any movement is coming from. Guards are posted at the front and back entrance, and if you go out, you’ll have at least three bulls on your person at all times. Rocco is trained to stay at your side—”
“He doesn’t know me,” Viviana interrupted. “He can’t possibly be trained for me.”
“He will, and he most certainly is trained just for you. The moment I allow you to touch him, he’ll understand your importance to me,” Anton said quietly, almost reassuringly. “I can’t explain everything, Viviana, not yet. But please understand that I am trying to give you safety with some semblance of normalcy in between. My mother and father have the upper level suite in this house because I believe in keeping my family close while there’s danger, but I have the basement, ground, and second floors. The upstairs has been equipped to handle my father’s medical needs for long periods if it’s needed. Ivan or Erik will always be around if I am not.”
The fact that his parents were also situated in the same safe house left her with even more questions than answers. If there was a high risk of danger, usually close relatives would be sent out of state to hide out for however long it was needed. Instead, they weren’t really in hiding if his statement of giving her some sense of normalcy was true.
“Why all the safety precautions if you’re expecting me to live openly here?” she asked. “Doesn’t that defeat the purpose?”
Anton cocked a brow. “I’m hoping your uncle will be a lot less brazen if I’m not keeping you hidden.” He still hadn’t let go of her sides, those teasing thumbs of his rolling gently against the undersides of her breasts in tender motions. “Deny that you want this, too, Vine. You’ve always wanted me. You want this life because you were meant for it, and I have waited more than long enough to get you here living it with me.”
“You’re not giving me a choice. I’ve spent the last three years thinking that this arrangement was over, and then you come in with guns blazing and a house on lockdown, Anton. That’s … It’s not fair. You signed my death warrant doing this.”
Immediately, his hands left her skin. She wanted them back, but her pride wouldn’t allow her to admit that fact. “It was already signed.”
“What?”
Placing his hands to his knees, Anton shook his head and muttered, “He was already getting ready to put out a hit on you. That guard of yours was probably going to be the one to do it to get his in with the family. I was hoping to see you back in the states before I approached you myself, but Sonny didn’t give me the chance.”
No one likes to off a woman, Vine.
She couldn’t help but remember Sam saying that. Would he have done it?
“You can’t possibly know that for sure.”
The look he gave turned her stomach with fear. “I can and I do, Vine. There are men in that organization who are less trustworthy than a snake. Even their eyes and ears can be bought. I stepped in now because I needed to, not because I thought you were ready, or that you wanted me to.”
An ache settled in her chest. How was she supposed to trust him?
“Sonny wouldn’t kill me simply because I wanted to marry you, Anton. I’m not worth a damn thing to him alive, nothing more than a nuisance he has to look after.” Frustrated by his lack of expression, her bitterness rose. “Dead I’m worth even less though, right?”
“Dead you’re worth nothing,” Anton admitted, hurting Viviana a little more. “That is exactly what your uncle wants to achieve. For secrets to remain hidden from his family and for his power to remain intact.”
That only left her more disturbed, emotions rolling from one thing to the next without ever landing on just one feeling. “Our families won’t merge now, regardless if we’re married or not. So you lied to me earlier when you said that’s what this was about. A marriage is only going to cause more issues. I’m worthless to the Bratva; you practically said so yourself.”
“No, you’re worth a great deal, especially if you’re married to me.”
But, why?
“You’re hiding something from me,” she realized, hurt that he was lying again, even if it was by omission. Viviana couldn’t decide which stung worse—that he didn’t trust her, or that he thought she didn’t deserve to know whatever it was. “What aren’t you saying?”
Anton looked stricken, fingers drumming a quick beat on his thighs. “I gave them my word. It was supposed to be them explaining this to you if they desired to—all the reasons and things that happened years ago. It’s not my story to tell, and I promised. My word is all I’m worth if you consider the way I live; without it, I have nothing.” Reaching out, he cupped a hand over her knee and ran it along the inside of her jittery leg. With his fingers moving so softly against her inner thigh, he pressed his fingertips close enough to her center to make Viviana throb with need. Murmuring, he said, “Can’t you try to trust me? Viviana, you know me … you do.”
She ignored his plea. “Who, Anton?” His fingers pressed harder at her words, grip tightening when Viviana refused to react to his motions. What she really wanted was more. So much more of his hands on her body, but she didn’t dare speak that out loud. “Was it my father, or Nicoli? Who?”
“I can’t answer that right now.” With that, he stood and held out a hand for her to take. “Come, I’ll get you back in bed for the evening. Let you rest and get the last of that sedative out of your system. I promise you’ll feel better in the morning.”
Too exhausted to argue, her palm met his. Anton’s lips touched down to Viviana’s fingers in a flutter of movement. She wouldn’t have noticed the quick kiss had she not felt the heat of his mouth brushing along her sensitive skin. She might as well have been sixteen and falling for him all over again.
Viviana couldn’t figure out if she was willing enough to let him do it. It didn’t help that she wasn’t all too sure if she knew this man anymore. Was he the same one she wanted all those years ago? Had his feelings remained the same nearly a decade later … was that even possible? Could someone want another that much?
What was even more frightening was that with his blue eyes watching, and his hand connected with hers, waiting, Anton still felt like hers.
Just like he always had.
• • •
The light humming of a sweet melody woke Viviana
. Wrapped in blankets and curled on her side, she felt no confusion or sickness as shades were opened and morning light filtered in across the floor of the bedroom. The figure singing low under her breath moved to the next window and drew the shades there as well. With her blonde hair pulled back into a messy ponytail, and clothed in jeans and a T-shirt, it took Viviana a few seconds to register who the person was.
“Sasha.”
Anton’s mother turned, her surprise lighting up a pretty face with familiar blue eyes. “I didn’t mean to wake you, Vine,” she murmured quietly. Then, waving off to her side, she added, “He likes the light in the morning, is all. It’s safer given the time of day. I’ll close them if you—”
“No,” Viviana interrupted, sitting up in the bed.
In her new position, she could see the sleeping figure on the small couch against the far wall. Wearing only a pair of cotton pants, Anton slept soundly with his back facing the bed and his arm acting as a pillow. She relaxed at the sight, slightly satisfied at the thought of him being close while she slept. Sasha cleared her throat, embarrassing Viviana at having been caught staring.
“I’m sorry. It’s just … been a while, so it’s surreal.” Her rambling only made Anton’s mother hide a smile by looking back to the windows. “Never mind me. Leave the curtains open if he likes it like that.”
Sasha shrugged, moving quietly to sit on the edge of the bed. “He’ll probably sleep through most of the morning, anyway. The last week and a half has been difficult. You being here puts him more at ease.”
Viviana doubted that, considering Anton’s gun was still firmly seated in his sleeping hand. With the drug induced haze cleared from her mind, she could finally appreciate the ink work on his broad, muscled back that spiraled down to his elbows. The piece took nothing away from the stars on his shoulders, instead weaving around them. It took her a moment to discern between the marking’s loopy pathways and thorny edges just what the tribal pattern was.
Vines.
Vines that covered and entwined with his skin; protecting and touching, dancing across dips and curves as they fell over the sides of his arms and traveled right back up again.
Her heart stopped, she was sure it did.
“Pretty, isn’t it?” Sasha asked quietly, her voice barely breaking a murmur. Viviana noticed then that her gaze had followed, too. “He could have went for something a little less…showy…I suppose, but his clothing covers it well enough. I wasn’t pleased when he had it done at first, but like a million other things he’s done since I birthed him, I wasn’t given a choice or the chance to voice an opinion. Anton was always stubborn like that.”
Funny, he wasn’t giving Viviana much of one, either. “I don’t know what to do,” she whispered.
Sasha turned, fingering the silver threads on the comforter. “It’s not my place to step in or speak against the choices they make, Vine, you know that. If your mother were here, she would say the same. And I wish she were, as this conversation would not need to happen. I can explain things to the best of my understanding so long as it doesn’t endanger my family, the organization, or you. Ask me what you wish, and I will make an effort to ease your mind.”
Questioning Sasha on the things Viviana had been told the night before would be useless. Asking about Anton’s grandfather, her father Roman, or their dealings would likely get her nowhere, also. It didn’t matter that nearly ten years ago she was willing to make the choice without fully understanding the weight of her actions because now she did. Anton could preach about safety, family, and the past all he wanted, but it still wouldn’t make the situation better.
“Wanting something doesn’t make it good for you,” Viviana replied, trying desperately to sound indifferent. It came out anything but. “I have to wonder if he understands that.”
“What’s so different between now and nine years ago?” Sasha asked, not skipping a beat. “You were so taken by him then, has that really all changed? I seem to remember sending you off from Barbados with your mother while your father stayed behind. You never questioned that, did you?” At Viviana’s confused look, Sasha chuckled and winked. “You assumed what happened that night between you both went unnoticed, but I can assure you that it did not. Your father wasn’t pleased; Anton certainly learned the meaning of respect that day between his grandfather, his own father, and Roman.”
A pink blush heated her cheeks. Feeling choked, Viviana asked, “Did they …?”
“No,” she replied with a wave. “Just yelled a lot, like men do. Between the Russian, the English, and the Italian, I couldn’t keep up. Still, Anton stood his ground, spoke for himself like he needed to when it counted the most. He wanted you, Vine, and he told them that. Not because of the things they’d done, the nonsense they agreed on, or because they told him he had to, but because he wanted you to be his.
“You understood Anton, why he sometimes seemed aloof and distanced, how his own life would come later because of the family. You knew how to act, did all the things that would be expected of you, but yet, you were still this happy girl who could make it seem like her father wasn’t on the FBI’s watch list; like you weren’t the daughter of a mafia boss. Anton wanted a girl who could be just her without the rest because he was still trying to learn how to be just him in the middle of chaos.”
Zoning in on a loose thread on the blanket, Viviana considered her words. “What would you do?”
“Had my marriage been arranged, I would not have been able to do anything.” Sasha made a noise under her breath, lips pursing. “How about I ask you something, hmm? Say you married some man, any man—he doesn’t have to be affiliated—and went on your merry way. You still have the family to consider, dangerous men who have their necks on a block every single day. You remember what it was like growing up, don’t you? As a girl, when something would happen, your father would whisk your mother, brother, and you away for weeks at a time until the dust had cleared and it was safe to come back again. Who will do that for your children?”
Viviana went to speak, but Sasha stopped her by lifting her hand. “Think about what I am telling you. It does not matter that you married a man who isn’t involved, or that you no longer speak to your relatives and have no connection to their dealings. It makes no difference to the men who will take you or your children and hurt you while they wait for a payment that will never come because you mean nothing to your family. But your death would, you see? Your death is a slap to their face, an insult to their beliefs and understanding.
“So go, Vine,” she said, shrugging. “Marry a man you might eventually love, one who will give you children and a nice home. Hope that you will fly under the radar of the men you aren’t protected from, but who are always watching from the shadows. Friends are enemies here, that’s what you were taught first. Trust no one and keep your love guarded.” Sasha motioned towards the still sleeping man on the couch, her eyes growing soft as she smiled. “It was a good match, you and him. I’ve seen arranged marriages that destroyed more than you could ever understand, but you and my son … it wouldn’t have been like that. You caught his eye from the moment he understood how easy it would be to love you.”
• • •
Anton grumbled, rolling over and feeling about as uncomfortable as he could on the couch given his size. More grumbles followed, his body shifting again and again to try and find a spot he liked, but coming up with nothing. Defeated, he rubbed his face, eyes blinking as he stared blankly at the sunlight filtering into the room. He cussed low and blinked again, taking in his surroundings.
A form near the bed clouded his tired vision, a hand patting his head as she passed. Anton knew then it was his mother. Sasha was affectionate like any mother, but still quick to give him privacy and space. Had she known Viviana had made it to the safe house the day before, she probably wouldn’t have been in his room at all.
“Good morning. Try not to be so loud today, hmm? Your father needs to rest; the infection in his lungs is taking a toll. Take Rocco to
the park or something later—you’re starting to get cabin fever.”
“I’m fine.” Placing his gun on the cushion, his mother didn’t blink at the firearm. He rolled his wrists, working out the kinks. “I have things to handle today, anyway.”
“Ant …”
“Ostanovit.”
Stop, he’d told her. While he let his mother get away with occasionally mothering him in private, he wasn’t in the mood for it then.
“Fine.”
Without another word, she was gone and the door closed softly behind her. Anton stayed quiet as he stood, stretching out his arms and turning away from the woman sitting back on his bed. “You were crying in your sleep last night,” he said to Viviana. “I didn’t want to get into the bed and freak you out, so I called Rocco up. You stopped when he laid down by the bed.”
“Where is he?”
Anton squinted at the watch on his wrist. “Clarissa is probably giving him food. I told you he keeps a schedule. If you want, I could have her accompany you on Rocco’s walk while I go out to the club.”
“Is that safe?”
“For now,” he replied. “If a breach happens, there’s protocol to follow. Ivan can explain that when he comes over later in the week.”
“Why not you?”
Anton turned then, meeting her gaze with a cold stare. “I have business to handle. These are things I can’t explain outside of a marriage bed, you know that, Viviana.”
“Clarissa, she’s the maid?”
“She worked in Nicoli’s home for many years. They had a close relationship, and she’s very loyal to us because of it. She was not a free woman like you are. He protected her from that in his own way. Seems he had a thing for saving the broken.”
The choice in wording he used wouldn’t be missed, Anton knew. Like the Cosa Nostra, the Bratva was also known to deal in human trafficking, despite his particular branch of the brotherhood keeping their hands far away from all of that.
