No, it was a criminal war story, about how my great-grandmother walked up to a house of enemies, who also happened to be holding her husband hostage, with nothing but an envelope.
Who’s to say if the facts got misconstrued a bit over the years—personally, I believed she carried a weapon on her just in case—but the fact of the matter was: it was true.
She knew the only weapon she needed was a picture. A picture of a young girl playing in the fields of Italy somewhere. She was the daughter of the man who took my great-grandfather.
It was as simple as this: find love, find weakness.
I’d always found the idea of love to be an amazing one. It could drive us to do things we never thought we could. It could also bring us to our knees. It was the hardest motivator while the tenderness of it made us soft.
But even love has a bad side.
It was terrible that it had to come to that, though. My great-grandfather for a little girl. But in the world we lived in, there were rules.
A life for a life.
The little girl was free to go after, but the man never took another breath again. Not after my great-grandfather killed him. He killed him for what he’d dared to do, and he also killed him because he was angry that the little girl had somehow gotten caught up in the war. He resented the man for putting that kind of guilt on my great-grandmother.
The Fausti men were romantic to a fault when it came to women and protective of children to a dangerous degree. Especially theirs.
A question about that story still lingered in my mind, though.
What did a woman wear to rescue her husband? A queen going after her king?
I looked down at myself. A black pantsuit that was tight up top but had flowing legs. Three-inch heels that gave me an extra air of confidence and let me look most men right in the eye. I wondered if that would give the impression that I’d come to do business— and this time, it was fucking personal.
“Mia.”
Lev.
After we’d arrived in Russia, there was a car waiting for us at a private airport. He’d taken the driver’s seat, and we flew. We didn’t stop. When we arrived at the hotel, or whatever this place was, he had the suit waiting for me.
A man and a woman were also waiting. He never called them by name. Only a number in Russian. I’d danced in the country before, and mamma had taught me enough to get by, so I knew he was referring to them as numbers.
None of them probably existed to the outside world. But in this life? I knew they were assassins. I also knew Lev had connections to the government. Personal ones.
Lev gave me an expectant look. He wasn’t a man of many words. Good thing for him I could read his expressions.
Time to go.
I fiddled with my rings as I stepped into a room where only Evelina and ??? (Three) were. The woman had left. I was pretty sure she had a job to do, but the numbers were somewhat secretive with each other.
It felt odd thinking of people by numbers instead of names. I was sure Lev had one, too, and I had no clue why he told mamma his real name.
IfLev was his real name. But it was better than One, Two, Three…
Evelina had her cellphone clutched to her chest, even if it was disabled. Like it was her only link to me, her brother, her father. She was used to being in control. Lev told her no electronics.
When she heard us, she popped up from the chair like she’d been electrocuted. ??? was in the chair across from Evelina, totally relaxed.
I looked between them.
His eyes had been on her since the moment we walked through the door. Narrowed at first, but like watching the dawn spread across the sky, his eyes had relaxed. Maybe even softened some. Like he was getting comfortable with the warmth of the sun for the first time.
Damn.He was good looking, too. And mysterious.
Dark brown hair, almost black, was cropped close to his head. His blue eyes were the total opposite of Evelina’s. Hers were so bright, and in some lights, I could’ve sworn they were neon. His were so dark, they were close to sapphire, a blue deep enough that they might seem black in some lights. He was fair but not pale. His features were chiseled, and his body, too. He wasn’t as tall as most of the men in my life, but he was…built.
Evelina had been giving him the side-eye since she’d first seen him. And whenever he spoke to her, she jumped a little, like a butterfly had flittered up from her stomach and landed on her heart.
