“Forgive her, Dom,” Oliver chuckled. “She’s shy.” Dominic’s eyes flashed fury, but it was gone so quickly I thought I imagined it.
“Is she now?” By the way he asked this question, almost mockingly, it seemed like he thought I was anything but. “Like a good Sicilian girl.” His murmured words burned me, and unsettling feelings washed over me.
I snapped, “And you are familiar with them, Dominic?” God, why did saying his name feel so good? And why the hell did the idea of him and another woman make me see red, and my heart ache in pain at the same time? As if he had no right to know other Italian women but me.
Mine.
Are you out of your freaking mind, Angelica?
Maybe those were some of the consequences about which the doctor warned us. Sometimes patients acted irrationally around people or situations, more so if they triggered or disturbed the mind. However, how could this stranger do it, considering we had never met before?
I should have listened to everyone and continued attending my sessions with the psychologist assigned to me by the hospital. But in my defense, you could only answer the question “How did it make you feel?” for so long until it started annoying the living shit out of you.
Dominic’s barely visible satisfied grin blinded me for a second as it mesmerized me—the image of a park appeared as a flash of a movie clip with him running toward me and kissing the shit out of me—while I stood stunned and disoriented. Lifting my fingers to my lips, I rubbed them gently, as they still burned from the imaginary kiss.
“Angelica!” Oliver exclaimed, appalled by my question or boldness. Whatever it was, I couldn't dwell on it much as he was interrupted when two men joined our group, and my jaw almost hit the floor.
Holy hell!
The man standing beside Dominic on his right was no doubt his twin. Both exuded an aura of dominance and danger. They both shared tanned skin, amber eyes, black hair, and ripped bodies. However, that was where the similarities ended and the differences began.
Dominic's hair was much longer than his twin's shaggy cut, and both his arms had various tattoos on them, along with his neck, and I suspected his back too. His long, dark lashes looked almost out of place on his hard-as-granite face. He had a bulky form, and somehow I imagined a girl could get lost in his strong, protective arms. Or climb him like a monkey in a huge tree and never let go. “Hello, Angelica.” His brother smiled softly, although it didn't reach his eyes as they studied me like some kind of germ under a microscope. “I’m Dominic’s twin, Damian.”
“I kind of guessed that,” I said, removing a strand of my hair from my forehead and tried to act breezy, when I felt anything but.
While Damian certainly looked as hot as his brother, his presence awakened nothing and actually calmed me a bit. There was something about his presence… as if he could protect me from any danger, and I could trust him completely. He’d have my best interests at heart, not like my family, who just wanted to mold me into someone I was not.
Great! Now you think you know men who you just met. Any more of this, and an asylum will be a strong possibility, girl.
The second man, with a long scar on his face, extended his hand to me, and I gave him mine. When he softly kissed my knuckles, I wondered if I’d heard a growl from Dominic. “Vitya, Dominic’s bodyguard.”
My eyebrows rose in surprise at his words. Why would such a man as him need a bodyguard? Just then, I noticed a snake tattoo on his wrist, which his T-shirt didn't cover up, and I tried freaking hard not to gasp as realization hit me like a ton of bricks.
A Bratva member.
My family had a long conversation with me, with pictures and slides explaining the hierarchy and ways of our world. According to them, for my safety, it was the most crucial thing for me to learn. Vito Rossi was one of the most ruthless mafia bosses in Sicily, in the world really. No one measured up to him, because he simply had nothing to lose compared to everyone else. As a result, he had a lot of enemies from other mafia houses, and from those, I had to stay away or know how to show proper respect when, for example, his counselor arrived to our house. One of the lessons included Irish and Russian mafia logos that under no circumstances should I ever be associated with. They emphasized that no one would dare step foot in Italy without Vito’s permission.
Dominic Konstantinov didn't exactly strike me as the asking type, so what the hell was he doing strolling around the country as if he owned it?
More importantly, what was Oliver doing? Vito didn't like him, and this wouldn't exactly give him the best nephew of the year award either. I didn't want the guy, but, geez, I never wished him dead, and who knew what my crazy uncle would do?
Deciding to play along to cover a bit of my state of mind—or the fact that it didn't diminish my attraction to Dominic, even though he was not that different from Vito—I questioned, “Are you here for the wedding as well?” This brought tension between the men, while Dominic fisted his hands until his knuckles whitened.
“Oliver was generous to invite us all. We came here for business, so I think we’ll stay,” Damian replied, and relief surged through me at this information. At this point, I gave up trying to understand my state of mind around these men.
“Of course! After all the help you gave me, it’s the least I could do.” Oliver wanted to say more, but the ringing of his phone interrupted him, and he took it out with an apologetic smile. “Yeah? Hold a second, Lane.” He kissed me on the temple, and I couldn't help but move away from it, which probably was unnoticed by him, but I didn't miss the intense gazes of the three strangers. “I need to take it, sweetheart.”
With that, he walked away from us a few feet toward the cathedral, arguing on the phone over some shipment that wasn't done properly. Usually I zoned out during our dinners or conversations with him, because he couldn't hold my attention for long. But I vaguely remembered how he mentioned his shipping company, which was about to get an expensive contract for the new project that had billions in the making. Or so he dreamed. Even without my knowledge of the subject, it sounded like a disaster in the making.
“Well, hello there.” Ciara whistled from behind me. She must have followed me as the girl had a freaking radar when it came to my whereabouts. She stepped forward, her eyes lighting up with interest as she studied all three men. She waved at Oliver and then placed her sunglasses on her head while she winked, and murmured to me, “You didn't tell me he’d bring such hunks with him.” Her words irritated me, especially the way she kept focusing her gaze on Dominic. I knew better than anyone about her weakness for tattooed guys.
“Aren’t you done with dating?” I reminded her about the little speech back in the bridal salon.
She gave me theAre you kidding melook, and whispered, “Have you seen them? I can make an exception for such masculinity.” Lifting her hand right in the twins’ faces, she said loudly, “Ciara Rossi. Pleased to meet you.” Both men only raised their brows slightly, and showed no interest in wanting to kiss it. In fact, Damian took a step back and just nodded, acknowledging her presence, while Dominic hesitated for a second while I held my breath.
Then he took her hand, and lightly, his lips touched her skin, all while his heated eyes stayed on me as if daring me to say something.
For some odd reason, my heart panged painfully when I saw him doing this to my sister. His lips touched her flawless skin, and I couldn't help but rub the scars on my collarbone as an uncomfortable feeling of self-doubt settled in. I caught Vitya’s gaze, and the softness in them surprised me, as it went against the brutality of his face.
