“I’m not marrying the investor, Ma.”
“You don’t even know him.”
“He’s a schmuck. Una faccia da schiaffi.”Face just begging to be slapped.
“Tony!”
“What? I’m just saying what we’re all thinking.”
I sink back into my seat as the two of them start bickering—about who’s right, who cares more about saving the vineyard, and who’s convinced I’ll die alone and be discovered half eaten by my cat.
But I’m not listening. Not really. Because something shifts in the corner of my eye.
Movement. Just beyond the window.
My body goes still, spine straightening as my gaze sharpens. For a second, just one breathless beat, I think I see someone. A shadow. A figure near the edge of the property, barely visible between the slats of morning light and rows of sprawling vines.
Is it him? Would he follow me here?
He’s unpredictable enough that it wouldn’t surprise me, and obsessive enough that it makes sense.
My pulse stumbles, then kicks into high gear. I lean forward, eyes narrowing, searching. But there’s nothing there. Just grape leaves swaying in the breeze.
Still, my skin prickles. I know this feeling. The electric awareness that curls low in my gut when he’s near.
Why the hell am I so attuned to him? Is my mind just warning me?
Either way, I don’t want to feel anything where Aleksei’s concerned. Nothing but complete and utter disdain. I hate the thought of that man following me, watching everything I do.
There’s no way he’d come to the vineyard knowing he’d be seen on cameras, right?
Then again, it’s not like he’d care. This is a place of business, and he can come here if he chooses.
Then I start to wonder…
Will he follow me tomorrow night?
Would he care? Would seeing me with another man spark something feral in him?
If Wesley so much as lays a finger on me, Aleksei will either tear him apart…or sit back and enjoy the show.
And honestly, I’m not sure which would be worse.
ALEKSEI
The vineyard falls behind me as I pull away. I should be following Dawson, tracking him until I know exactly what he wants.
Instead, I’m already late to the meeting. My grip tightens on the wheel. I hate answering to anyone. Especially my own brother.
Two damn years. That’s all it would have taken. Two years earlier, and I would be the one sitting at the head of the table. Giving orders instead of taking them. The one they answer to. But the universe is cruel and Konstantin came first, the Pakhan of the Marinov family, and he wears that title proudly.
I enter his estate, gates yawning wide, the guards letting me in as the cameras track every inch of my Royce.
Emilia swings the door open before I even touch the handle, arms crossed, a slow, knowing smirk tugging at her mouth.
“You’re late.”
I grunt. “No way. Hadn’t noticed.”
