I can see why.
I don’t doubt that people’s inherent fear of the violent behemoth of a man ensures immediate obedience at all times. Even me, right now, as I jump into action rather than shaking like a leaf.
Tentatively, I take up my fork and spear a strawberry slice.
They wouldn’t drug the food that’s been set out for everyone, right?
Not to mention, after hearing how they handled the Novikov staff, I’m more inclined to believe the brothers are at least attempting to make this a peaceful transition of power.
And I trust that Chastity wouldn’t knowingly give me something harmful.
My anxiety has put my stomach in knots, making each bite agonizing to swallow. But I don’t stop, because I can feel Miko’s eyes on me, watching closely as I pick at the food on my plate.
In the silence that settles between us, his brothers’ conversation catches my ear, piquing my interest.
It’s about the fifth and currently absent Chiaroscuro brother, Leo, who for all intents and purposes sounds like he doesn’t mean to reclaim the throne his father left to him, though he was the official heir.
Apparently, he took his pregnant wife to some undisclosed location after the family home was burned to the ground and he has no plans to return.
Leo and his wife wanted out of this life—and took the opportunity to do so in the aftermath of the violence.
I note with mild interest that the brothers are speaking in Italian, no doubt to avoid giving me any sensitive information—a sure sign that they don’t trust me.
Too bad for them I can understand their conversation perfectly, though they don’t seem to realize it.
Not that I blame them for being wary after what my husband did to their family, but it reminds me that, even if Michelangelo has treated me respectfully so far, we are not on the same side.
“My brothers and I will be using this house as our headquarters for now,” Miko says, directing his words toward me and recapturing my attention, “until we have the numbers to reclaim our family home. With the Bratva in upheaval over the loss of your husband, it’s a perfect opportunity to fill the vacuum thePakhanleft behind.”
I glance up at Miko through my lashes, intrigued that he would bother telling me anything about their plans when I’m the widow of his enemy. I hold his gaze as I slowly chew my breakfast and swallow. “A logical choice,” I state cautiously.
“For your protection, I intend to keep you fairly secluded inside the house—until we can arrange a small public ceremony, where I’ll take you as my wife.”
Cold, prickling anxiety trickles down my spine, and I swallow painfully as I fight hard to maintain my composure. “And when will that be?” The thought of marrying a man who could prove as cruel and violent as Pyotr sounds like a death knell in my head. I can’t do a second round of the year I just endured. I won’t survive it.
“Within the week,” he states as calmly as if we were discussing the weather. “If you have any other questions, now would be the time to ask them.”
Setting down my fork with a sharp clatter, I suppress the onslaught of emotion threatening to choke me, and I raise my chin in defiance. “Why can’t I leave?” I demand.
The table goes still once again, Miko’s brothers glancing between us. Miko studies me in silence for a long moment, his penetrating gaze raising goosebumps across my flesh.
It’s not a lecherous gaze, appraising me of my worth based on the curves of my body.
But somehow, it feels all the more intimate because of that—as if he’s peeling back the layers to expose my very soul.
Then he leans forward, resting his elbows on the table and interlacing his fingers as he gives me a mild expression.
“Our union will shield you from the ugly fatemostwidows face when theirPakhanis disgraced,” he states bluntly, making my insides knot. “If I let you go, you would most likely end up dead in a ditch within days—and that’s if our soldiers didn’t decide to take out their anger on you in a much more brutal way after what your husband did. Right now, I’m the one who can provide your best source of protection.”
I squirm in my seat as the threat settles heavily between us. I don’t know if he’s just saying it to scare me, but suddenly, I’m far less inclined to find out.
“And if these men want to hurt me so badly,” I murmur, struggling to speak past the iron fear closing around my throat, “what makes you think that marrying you could keep me safe?”
The cold flash of steel in his eyes makes my pulse quicken, and the air vanishes from my lungs.
“Because no one would dare touch what’s mine,” he growls, sending a shiver down my spine.
9
