Oleg’s mouth tightens. He glances around the room, knowing this isn’t the time to pick a fight, then forces a smile. “Now that Toly will be established here and there will be peace, I have no reason to stay. There are things in Miami that need my attention anyway.”
The door opens again and Big Tony smirks at me as Giada struts in, perfectly coiffed in a fitted red dress, her neck, wrist and hands glittering with diamonds. Including the one that will soon be removed from her finger.
She takes in the room, sees Lennon and freezes.
Toly stands and pulls out the chair beside him. “Sit,dorogaya.”
Nostrils flaring and anger tightening the cords in her neck, she slowly sits and glares at me. “What’s the meaning of this? What’sshedoing here?”
I rest my hand on Lennon’s knee beneath the table. “Things have changed, Giada.” I motion to Toly, sitting smugly beside her, eyeing her like a piece of meat. “Our engagement has been called off. Your father has agreed to an arranged marriage between you and Anatoly Romanov. I’d make introductions, but I know you’re already acquainted.”
I take pleasure in the widening of her eyes, though she keeps her body still. “Your father wants his empire to stay intact, so without a male heir, it will be passed down through you to your and Anatoly’s children.” I’d notified Santino about Milo’s death as a courtesy. I have no idea if he told Giada yet, but by her non-reaction, I’d say he has.
She scoffs. “Is this a joke? My father would never let me marry a Russian.” She glances nervously at Toly. “No offense.”
Toly grips the back of her neck and leans in, whispering in her ear.
Her face pales, but there’s a quiet anger building behind her dark eyes. She’s glaring at me. “And what? You think now that you’re free of me, New York is just going to let you marry your little whore?”
Lennon flinches beside me. I take her hand and intertwine our fingers. Then I lay both our hands on the table with her engagement ring face up. “They have already agreed. Sorry, you won’t be invited to the wedding.”
Giada’s red lips tighten as she stares at the ring on Lennon’s finger. Her chest rises and falls with rapid breaths.
Anger. Panic. Betrayal.Whatever she’s feeling, I don’t give a fuck. This little show is for Lennon. After the stunt Giada pulled at the fundraiser, I needed to give Lennon her power back. And some petty revenge doesn’t hurt either.
I glance at Toly and nod.
He reaches over and slips the engagement ring off Giada’s finger. She watches him with a stunned expression as he slides it across the table to me. I hand it to Killian. “It’s worth about two million. Use it to buy your yacht.”
“Aye, mate. Thanks.” Killian winks at Giada, which sends her over the edge.
She tries to stand, but Toly grabs her arm. “Sit the fuck down.”
Rebellion dances in her eyes, but it’s waring with fear. She looks at Toly and whatever she sees in his expression has her lowering back into the chair.
Toly digs in the pocket of his slacks and pulls out a velvet box. He slaps it on the table in front of Giada. “Now you wear my ring. The wedding will be tomorrow.” He grabs her jaw and presses his mouth to hers, slipping his tongue inside.
She’s trying to pull away but his grip is punishing.
Finally he releases her with a dark chuckle. “A fighter. I like it.”
Chapter 46
Lennon
We’re lying in bed, our legs entangled, Peaches curled up on the pillow beside my head. The article in the Tampa Times is out, and I’m reading it with a huge grin on my face. They used six of the shots we took. Mostly the casual ones that capture our joy. One is a closeup of Sandro’s devastating smile with my hand cradling his face, the engagement ring sparkling in the sunlight. The title is “A Tampa Fairytale.”
Apparently before the photoshoot, Sandro had sat down for an interview with Jessica Eaton and told her our story. Told her how we spent every summer together, how we lost each other for a decade, and how fate brought us back together. Of course, he described his arranged marriage with Giada as a business arrangement. I’m not sure how many people are aware of the mob families in Tampa. The way she wrote up the story has my heart swooning like I’m experiencing it all over again.
Sandro is sipping his coffee and watching me. “Do you like it?”
I hug the magazine to my chest. “I love it. I can’t believe you did that.”
“I would do anything for you. You should know that by now.” His expression grows serious. “But now I need to ask you to do something for me. Well, for us, really.”
“Okay.”
He sets his cup on the nightstand and gathers me in his arms so we’re facing each other. “It’s about your father.”
