“Some people might think that Tao and Lei now have a good chance at becoming their older brother’s successor. But those people would be wrong. Aside from them, Sun Wei has one remaining, living, breathing heir left—his granddaughter, Lily Sun. She’s the last of his bloodline.”
“How come she didn’t die with the rest? What’s her excuse?” Sasha asks, thinking she must be the culprit behind the murders.
“Actually, the answer to that is fairly simple. She was attending college on the other side of the country at Harvard. Not exactly ideal for quick family weekend benders.”
“Lucky girl,” I say, not understanding what any of this has to do with us.
“Is she, though?” Misha raises an eyebrow. “Her luck is questionable, but one thing is for sure—Sun Wei refuses to leave the Triad in his brothers’ hands. He wants his most direct descendant to take his place when the time comes. He wants to ensure that his bloodline is the only one that sits on his throne.” My throat dries at the intensity in Misha’s stare. “The Triad are weaker than they’ve been in decades. Succession is tearing them apart, and the Albanians are carving up their D.C. empire piece by piece. If San Francisco falls, they fall with it. Sun Wei knows this. He also knows his granddaughter is far too young to take her rightful seat without someone, let’s say, more experienced in these sorts of things, guiding her. Protecting her. She needs muscle and cunning to be able to always be two steps ahead ofher uncles and any other enemy that comes her way. And that’s where we come in.”
“How exactly?” I ask, already fearing his answer.
“I’ve offered Sun Wei a deal. TheBratvawill make sure that nothing happens to his granddaughter and ensure she is crowned queen when the time comes. In return, Lily Sun must marry one of my brothers.” Misha pauses for dramatic effect, just as I feel the ground shift beneath my feet. “I think I just found the perfect brother to be her husband in waiting. After all the progress you’ve done in Chicago and will do in the future, I can’t think of anyone better suited for this mission than you.”
I’m too stunned to say anything. Not only because Misha suggested an arranged marriage—as if ordering an Uber—but also that he actually believes I’d agree to it. Although it’s not Misha making such a suggestion. It’s myPakhangiving me a full-out order.
“What did I tell you about Misha and his grand plans?” Kostya whispers in my ear beside me. “How’s that shoe drop tasting right about now?”
Blyad.
Chapter 18
Stella
My fists hammer the punching bag in a steady left-right rhythm, each strike sharp enough to sting my knuckles. Sweat trickles down my brow, sliding into my eyelashes, but I don’t stop. I kick, pivot, hit again, as if the damn bag personally insulted me somehow.
It’s a miracle I even have the stamina for this, considering I already had a solid workout last night at mynonno’sgym. After listening to Marcello spend an entire month ranting about our grandfather’s new hire, I finally had to see Isobel Graham for myself.
Turns out Marcello’s‘disdain’had nothing to do with all the changes she was making to the gym and everything to do with him liking her a little too much.
I saw it in his eyes, clear as day, how he grimaced when I dropped her onto the mat and made Isobel my bitch. And for the record, that shit wasn’t as easy to pull off as I thought since Isobel gave as good as she got. My ribs still ache from thewoman’s left hook. She knew what she was doing, even if she was outmatched the moment I stepped into the ring.
Still, watching Marcello begin to spiral afterward was the real kick to the stomach. I saw how he struggled to hold himself together, how conflicted he was to be having such a visceral reaction with the sight of her bleeding and hurt. It must have been hell for him to be caught between loyalty to me and the sharp, helpless ache he felt seeing her injured by my hand. My poor brother is so emotionally backed-up he could probably cry diamonds if he ever let himself crack. I just wished he’d allow himself even a sliver of joy to enter his life. God knows he’s seen too little of it.
And from the way I caught Isobel staring back at Marcello… Yeah, she’d crawl right over those walls he built around himself if he so much as gave her a chance. But knowing him, hell will freeze over before he lets anyone get close. Not because he doesn’t want it but because he’s terrified of hurting someone he actually cares about.
We’re his family, and he still keepsusat arm’s length. Just in case his monster gets out of its cage and he’s not strong enough to pull it back.
I wish I could say Marcello was the only one in our family wrestling with demons, but when you have Romano as your last name, we all have a skeleton or two shoved in a closet somewhere.
Dark, haunting eyes flash through my mind, and I throw another sharp kick into the punching bag as if hitting something hard enough would erase the memory. The old boards of the barn echo with every hit, trembling with each blow, and still the noise isn’t loud enough to drown out the faint sound of his voice in my ear.
You’re running.
“I do not run,” I grit out, striking the bag left to right with all my strength.
“Don’t you think you’ve hit that bag enough?” my mother’s melodic voice drifts from behind me, interrupting my wayward thoughts. I don’t look back. I just kick the bag again, harder. “Your father is worried about you,” she says after a long pause. I say nothing in return. I’m pretty sure she means Dom. He’s the only one who’s seen the way I’ve been tearing myself apart in the gym these last couple of months. “He says you’ve been punishing yourself nonstop since Christmas,” she adds, the worry in her voice unmistakable.
“I’m fine, Mom. Neither of you has to worry about me.”
“If only it were that easy,” she mutters with a sigh.
I keep my mouth shut and continue striking the bag, hoping she’ll take the hint and leave me alone. But no. Apparently my mother has nowhere else to be but here, riding my ass.
“Dominic isn’t the only one worried about you. I am too.”
“What do you have to be worried about?” I scoff. “I’m a big girl, Mom. I can take care of myself.”
“Can you?”
