The Arrangement (Crimson Romance)

by Bethany-Kris

  The sound that left Rory had Anton’s spine straightening. He tried like hell not to react to the younger man, but it was damned near impossible. With a tick of his chin, his lover’s bull was down near his shoulder, words whispering fast into his ear.

  “Tatiana is here, Boss, and Vine went straight-up Brooklyn on her. I mean, girl spoke about slicing and dicing like she knew what she was saying, okay? Tati said some stuff, and I don’t really know because I didn’t get to her in time, but Jen said it wasn’t anything all too good. Something about her mom and you and the arrangement. Anyway, Viviana’s in the bathroom taking a breather, but the blonde is in the back alley having a smoke with Felix. So, your choice. Pick one.”

  Oh, for fuck sakes. Anton couldn’t even hide his cringe.

  Tatiana was something casual. It happened when he was seventeen and pissed off about being forced into a marriage that he was positive just wouldn’t work. Then, he reconnected with Viviana and all of the stunts he’d been pulling and the nonsense he was going on with just quit. She had literally been his turning point, like finding his soul all over again.

  Yeah, he’d messed around with the Jersey girl a few times in his early twenties at different clubs under random circumstances. It wasn’t like either of them had actively searched one another out, or maybe she had for him … Either way, he was sure she understood that they weren’t rolling together like that. A quick fuck or Tati on her knees blowing him off was just about as far as it went. Nicoli had warned him, though. Anton should have listened when his step-grandfather said she was no good … just a spoiled boss’s daughter who wanted the title with her money.

  Fuck, he should have listened.

  Anton clicked his tongue chidingly at Sergei. “You brought your daughter along.”

  At least the man had the decency to look ashamed. “She assured me your … issues … had been resolved.”

  “Far from it,” Anton spat. “The bitch tried to burn down my club the last time she was here because I wouldn’t let her suck my dick. Quite the child you raised, Boss.”

  That probably wasn’t the best choice in words, but Anton was a little too pissed off to calm down. What in the hell had Tatiana said exactly? His mind ran with all the worst possible scenarios he could think of, and all of them collided with the same conclusion: the truth. Of course she would have known, her father did, after all.

  “Mind your tongue, prince,” Sergei warned.

  Something flashed in the older man’s eyes and Anton felt the heat flare through his blood in response. Ivan, who sat quietly beside him, coughed to draw their attention away and defuse the situation, but neither man moved his gaze from the other.

  “That girl of yours,” the older Pakhan continued, sneering a grim smile. “She must have a hell of a lot of Italian in her, doesn’t she?”

  Anton spoke through clenched teeth. “You know she’s only half.”

  “Given what we both know her mother did, aren’t you the least bit afraid she’s going to do the same to you?”

  Air sliced into Anton’s lungs like a hot knife through butter. It literally fucking ached.

  “No, I’m—”

  “Raised by a byladina, Anton. Your pretty little wife might just turn into her mother the first time you find yourself behind steel bars. After all, you’ve managed to keep yourself from doing any real hard time so far, but how long is that going to last? Every one of us does our time eventually, my boy. Will you come home to find her knocked up with your Sovietnik’s child?”

  “Fuck you,” Ivan snapped beside Anton, speaking totally out of place but his boss wouldn’t correct him.

  “Or maybe she’ll run to another boss like her mother did.”

  Byladina was by far one of the most offensive terms in Russian for the English equivalent of slut. It was regarded as an even worse title in their language, to be sure. Women who were worth less than even the stale air that left their lungs were graced with that insult. Never had Anton used it in his life. For Sergei to even remotely consider letting that word roll out of his mouth and compare Viviana to it was just about the worst thing he could have done, especially in Anton’s presence.

  There was no way for his bulls, or Ivan, to stop the fast movement of Anton’s fist reaching over the table. Clenched knuckles slammed into an unsuspecting face, crushing the bones of the other Pakhan’s nose on impact.

  Anton packed one hell of a punch.

  It carried a heavy price, and he knew it.

  He did it, anyway.

  The knuckle in his pinkie popped out of joint, but he drew back his fist again and landed another solid hit. When his fists grabbed at the broken man’s collar, blood was already pouring. His knuckles were cut up but the pain didn’t even register. He could hear the shouts of both languages beginning to rise around him, but his fury was swelling by the second. Russian spit from his mouth like poison when he was in Sergei’s face.

  “Durak! Ty troop, Sergei!” Close enough that he could smell the heat of the man’s blood, Anton’s voice turned to a dangerous whisper as he muttered, “Say it again, motherfucker, and it’ll happen. I fucking dare you.”

  “Damn it! Anton!”

  “Boss!”

  “Shit, get off, Boss …”

  The click of a gun’s hammer being pulled back just barely registered to Anton’s ears.

  “Shoot and every fucking Jersey boy in this room is dust,” someone snarled.

  “Man, come on,” Ivan hissed, arms circling his waist to pull him back.

  “You’re dead,” Anton repeated in English, swinging out with another hit that landed hard on the man who was just being pulled away. “Get that piece of shit out of my fucking territory before I paint the walls with his brain matter!”

  Anton slammed Ivan off of him, sliding off the table and fixing the arm of his jacket. When he realized there were blood stains on the cuff, he cussed and tugged the damned thing off. Tossing the offensive item at Rory, Anton turned to walk away. Sergei was still laying prone on the floor with the men who had escorted him in attempting to bring him out of the semi-unconscious state.

  “I said get him out! Make sure that he wakes up in the parking lot of a hospital in his territory so he gets the goddamn point. His daughter will be right on her way to meet him, too. And get rid of that jacket, Rory.”

  “Sure thing, Boss.”

  One issue down, one more to go. Anton’s previous buzz was all but gone. He was just plain and simple pissed off, now. People on the floor separated without looking the Russian boss in the eyes. It wasn’t the first time something bad had gone down in the club and it wouldn’t be the last. With a predator’s gaze and a smooth, fast stride, he found the back entrance to the club with Ivan close on his heels.

  “Shit, you just caused a big issue, Anton.”

  “You heard what he called her.”

  “I know … I know.”

  “Yeah, you fucking know. And if that was Eva, you’d have cut out his tongue.”

  Ivan huffed. “Not the point.”

  Anton turned fast, his hands coming up to slam into Ivan’s chest hard. “Then what is the point, huh? I let him call her that because her mother made a mistake—one she probably paid a dozen times over for—and then everybody else assumes it’s okay for them to label her with that title, too?”

  “No—”

  “He said it like the fact that Nicoli is her father didn’t even make a difference! Never mind that she’s got more Russian in her blood than his own daughter, or that she’s going to be my wife … a Pakhan’s wife, no, only because her mother birthed her. That’s why he called her that. No fucking way, Ivan. Not on my watch. Not in my territory. Not about her.”

  When Anton turned around to continue his trek to find Tatiana, he came face to face with his beautiful Viviana. His heart stopped just like his feet. Panic, grief, remorse, and fear roared through his veins. Pain throbbed from his dislocated finger but it didn’t even register to the ache that suddenly took residence in
his heart and soul.

  That’s not how she should have found out. That was the last way he ever wanted to tell her. Viviana deserved so much better than it to be blurted out in his anger with his back turned and blood on his collar.

  Anton damned near stumbled when he jerked forward. “Baby …”

  “I want to go home.”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  “Home,” she repeated quietly.

  Anton nodded, but he knew there was still something he had to deal with. “Just give me five minutes, okay?”

  Viviana blinked, but there was water in her gaze.

  Not here, he wanted to tell her. Please don’t do this here.

  She could yell and scream at him anywhere but not at the club with all those people watching. A breakdown she deserved if she wanted to have one, and he’d take every punishment she had to give, but not right then.

  Anton didn’t have to worry. Only a single silvery tear escaped the corner of those familiar brown eyes before her hand swiped it away. She walked past him just as fast and he watched to make sure she was finding one of her bulls.

  Even still, his heart cracked.

  “Fuck,” he breathed. “I … I just …”

  Ivan swallowed audibly behind him. “Anton, breathe.”

  Hadn’t he been? “What did I do?”

  “It’s—”

  “Don’t say okay, Ivan. It’s not okay.”

  There was a hand on his shoulder squeezing painfully tight and it was the only thing keeping him rooted to the floor. Anton was grateful, because his heart and soul just walked on by like he was the last thing that she ever wanted to see again.

  “You’ve got to deal with the fire bug, man.”

  Again, Anton found himself nodding dumbly. “I fucked that up.”

  “You love her,” Ivan whispered, sounding torn and pained. “That’s not nothing. It’s just not. Take a breath, deal with crazy, and get Vine the hell home like she asked. Give the girl some credit; her heart just shattered and she didn’t even say a word. Anybody else would have thrown a terrible fit. She walked away.”

  The throb in his hand reminded him of his other pain. Anton blinked down at the injured pinkie. Without thinking about it, he grabbed the digit with a stinging twist, grit his teeth, and forced it back into place with a painful pop. The damned thing came out of joint nearly every time his fist cracked into something.

  “She walked away,” Ivan repeated calmly. “She’s got nerves. So while you take a breather, let her have hers to think about whatever.”

  Nerves, yeah. That was one way of saying it. Another was being honest and stating it like it really was. Viviana Carducci had been raised a true mafia princess. She might have had Bratva in her blood but she was born into a Cosa Nostra world. She knew how to walk, when to talk, and the second she needed to blink it all away.

  And she was supposed to be his … only ever his.

  Anton shuddered with another breath as his heart splintered a little bit more.

  “Let’s get this done.”

  The exit door slammed open under Anton’s hand. The heavy metal banged on the side of a dumpster as he stepped out into the alleyway. Instantly, he met the waiting gaze of one of Viviana’s bulls and the very frightened stare of Tatiana.

  “You made a big mistake, Tati.”

  He pulled a cigarette from his pocket, lit it up and took a puff. Ivan closed the exit door, keeping a hand in to make sure it wouldn’t latch closed completely. Really, he just wanted to get this done and over with. Tatiana wasn’t even important to him; she hadn’t ever been. Now, he just needed to make it clear.

  “What, you going to hurt me for making your pretty little fiancée cry, Anton?”

  “Nope.” Another inhale off the cigarette burned painfully sweet into his throat. He felt raw and ripped open. “Apparently my girl can handle herself just fine, and by the looks of it, you didn’t make her spring a leak. I don’t hit women, contrary to popular belief. What I will do, however, is pay a mighty price to knock you off. You understand that, Tati?”

  Her eyes dropped from his sight. “You wouldn’t dare.”

  “Oh yeah, I would. Wouldn’t even blink when I got the call to say it was done, too. I don’t know what you said, and I don’t give a shit, but if I ever see you walking the streets of Brighton Beach in the next forty years, I promise you won’t breathe long enough to leave them, girl.”

  “Fuck you.”

  The words were as good as a punch, but they didn’t sting a bit. Still, her defiance only served to piss him off further. In a flash, Anton had crossed the space of the alley. He had her throat in his palm as he forced her back into the wall and made her eyes meet his. The choking sound of air only had him cutting off her oxygen supply even more. Tears slipped through her rapidly blinking eyes. When her fingers clawed at his arms, Anton looked down with a severe expression.

  “I don’t hit women …” he repeated, resting the cigarette precariously between his lips with a careless flair, “but I’ll sure as fuck make sure to get this clear so you won’t misunderstand me and come knocking ever again. I don’t want you. I’ve already had you and it was more than enough. Find some other man to spread your legs for because it won’t ever be me again. If you even think to dare look in the direction of Viviana one more time, I will pay that price and have your blood spilling on Jersey ground, Tati. Are we clear?”

  “Anton,” Ivan warned quietly. “Ease up a little.”

  No fucking way. His grip tightened instead.

  “Are we clear?”

  The hard swallow and single nod was more than enough. Anton let go.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Anton’s forehead rested on the bathroom door. The throbbing beats of his heart coursed through his veins with every aching thud, making it that much harder to breathe. With his hands splayed wide open against the wood, he begged once more for Viviana to let him inside the bathroom. The silent response he received was more heart-wrenching than if she would have screamed at him.

  Because she didn’t…not at all.

  Viviana hadn’t said a single word.

  Not a fucking one.

  Their car ride home had been so unbearably tense that Anton eventually yanked the car over on the freeway and whispered the apology he had been wanting to give her the movement she walked back into his life.

  Again, Viviana said nothing.

  She wouldn’t even look at him; wouldn’t grace him with the knowing that she had simply heard him speak. Her shaking hands had stayed limp in her lap as she watched cars blink by their stopped vehicle on the roadway.

  Frustration had overtaken his pain in that moment and he had grasped her jaw roughly, turning her head to look at him. Just the tears that streaked over her cheeks at his handling should have told him more than enough, but Anton just couldn’t not. That beating organ inside his chest was ripping apart.

  Convulsive swallows followed his action before she looked on past him, refusing to meet his gaze. More tears slipped down her trembling cheeks. All he wanted—needed—for her to do was just say something.

  “Goddamn it, won’t you even look at me?” he had shouted.

  Nothing.

  “Viviana…please.”

  Silence.

  A freight truck passed them at an alarming speed, causing the Mercedes to rock.

  “I didn’t—”

  “Don’t say you didn’t know, Anton.”

  The words hadn’t even been a whisper, but more like painful, stinging air that forced its way out from her center cavity. There was a heavy exhale that rattled from her chest, and he mimicked the action. Even the words she spoke felt riddled with pain and grief.

  Oh, God, she hurt, too. He did that.

  “Let me explain, that’s all I’m asking.”

  “Please remove your hand.”

  “Vine…”

  “Now.”

  When Anton noticed the blooming red forming around the spots where his fingertips were di
gging into her beautiful skin, he was quick to release his hold. Shame bit at his heels. Again, he rushed to apologize but she was already turning away like it didn’t make a difference. Those switches he was so good at controlling were suddenly taking over him in the worst way.

  And so, they ended up back at the safe house.

  Without a word she walked past the three waiting bulls and Clarissa. Viviana reached down to graze over the tips of her pup’s twitching ears; he was quick to trot behind when she left their space. The panel on the wall beeped with the indication that she had disappeared to the second level of the three-floor building. Anton didn’t know what else to do but let her go.

  Rory had been the first to ask, “Is she going to be okay, Boss?”

  How was he supposed to answer?

  Clarissa’s quiet voice, the one they rarely heard, was the only one to speak up. “If I understand what happened correctly, I believe she will, but it’s a hard thing to learn who you thought you were, isn’t really the person you are.”

  Anton’s eyes flitted to the maid’s, trying so damned hard to keep the rising tears at bay. “What do I do?”

  “You give her time,” Clarissa replied, smiling sadly. “You let her breathe. You hold her hand. You apologize. And I know you may not understand, but you forgive. Her. Them. Yourself. It’s been many years, and you’ve had a great deal of time to absorb all of this.”

  “I know,” he said faintly.

  “It is all on her, Anton, to learn that blood doesn’t make the person. Nicoli understood that when he made the choice to let her grow up with a different man as her father, because she would always be his, even if she wouldn’t think the same, no matter where she lived. Just like you not sharing his blood didn’t make you any less important or loved, because you were.”

  Another splintering crack settled somewhere deep inside.

  Anton flinched. “Rocco, ostanovit.”

  The order for his pup to stop didn’t even register as the dog turned and clawed down the door once more. Fresh marks appeared where his nails had dug into the wood. Jesus, his dog had never outright disobeyed him like that after his training.