But I can’t say that. Can’t tell a room full of hardened men that I’ve got feelings for the woman I was supposed to be using.That postponing has nothing to do with respecting Santino and everything to do with the fact that I’ve been a closed-off bastard for days, and I don’t want to marry her while I’m this fucked up.
Lorenzo’s gaze finds me. Something flickers in his eyes. Understanding, maybe. Or just exhaustion.
“The wedding proceeds as planned.” His voice leaves no room for argument. “We use it to draw Viktor out. And when he shows himself, we kill him. Slowly, if possible.” The cold fury in his tone makes even hardened men shift uncomfortably. “I want Kozlov to understand what happens when he takes one of ours.”
I nod. What else can I do?
This is what I signed up for. Following orders. Doing what needs to be done for the family. I’ve never questioned it before.
But as the meeting breaks up and men file out of the room, I stay where I am. Back against the wall. Arms still crossed.
Four days until the wedding.
Four days until Sierra walks down the aisle in a white dress. And everyone watches us make promises we both know were supposed to be lies.
Except they won’t be. Not for me.
She just doesn’t know it yet.
I push off the wall and head for the door. I need to find her. Need to figure out how to stop being such a closed-off prick long enough to show her what she’s starting to mean to me.
Except I don’t know how to do that.
I know how to break thumbs. How to put a bullet in someone clean and quick. How to make a man tell me everything he’s ever known just by walking into the room.
But telling a woman she matters to me?
I don’t even know where to start.
I want to let her in. I do. But wanting something and knowing how to do it are two different things, and every time she gets close to the parts of me that hurt, my first instinct is to shove her back.
I’ll figure it out. I have to.
But first, I need to find Viktor. Because if I can give her that, if I can take away the thing that haunts her sleep and makes her jump at shadows, maybe I’ll deserve to keep her.
The wedding will go on. And afterward, Sierra is in for a hell of a surprise if she thinks there’s going to be anything fake between us.
I just have to not fuck it up before then.
33
SIERRA
The rumbleof Matteo’s motorcycle cuts through the quiet evening, and I don’t move from my spot on the couch.
This confrontation is happening whether he likes it or not.
I’ve been watching from the living room window like some kind of pathetic girlfriend in a rom-com, except this isn’t funny and I’m not laughing. It’s been two more days of cold sheets and grunted hellos and him not being around.
I’m done playing this game.
So I’m parked on the couch, arms crossed, legs crossed, the whole “I’m not moving and you can’t make me” package. Nell can handle the bar without me for a little while. This is happening.
The front door swings open, and there he is. All broody and gorgeous and tense in that way that used to make my stomach flip but right now just makes me want to throw something at his head.
His eyes find me immediately. I watch him clock my posture, the way I’m clearly not heading out the door to work, and for just a second, I swear he looks... nervous?
Then it’s gone, and he’s back to being a brick wall with cheekbones.
