“The Irish could prove useful allies when the time comes, especially if any are looking to overturn who’s in charge,” Gio agrees. “Same goes for the Russians we invited—even if I hate backing down while we’ve got them on the run. It was a smart play to keep those men of Valentin’s alive, Miko. If the Bratva see we’re willing to let things go now that Pyotr’s dead, they might switch sides to take the target off their backs.”
My heart stutters at the mention of my dead husband’s name, and I swallow painfully as I try not to give away how hearing it affects me.
“We invited the Russians because I want to send a clear message to them that Anika belongs to me now,” Miko growls.
Silence stretches around the table, finally broken by Raf clearing his throat. “Regardless of the reason behind it, having them at the wedding will also help us assess how fractured the Bratva clans are right now.”
Miko gives a slight tip of his head, acknowledging Raf’s observation, then the room falls silent once more.
I don’t dare look up to read their expressions, and I pick at my plate, sliding a strawberry between my lips as I wait to see if they’ll have anything more interesting to say.
The guest list sounds larger than I had expected, and nerves flutter in my stomach when I think about standing before a roomful of strangers and agreeing to marry a complete stranger.
“So, Anika,” Sandro asks, switching back to English as he turns his attention to me. “Are you ready to be Miko’s wife? He must be an upgrade from the monster you were married to before. Or did you not know what kind of man your former husband was?”
There’s a hint of malice in his tone, no doubt a lingering hatred for Pyotr after all he did to earn the Chiaroscuros’ hatred.
I saw firsthand just how volatile their relationship was—even before he killed the Don. No doubt that’s only escalated after recent events.
But I’m not oblivious to the notion that, even if I had nothing to do with Pyotr’s business, I could still be held accountable for his actions. And if he did anything half as cruel to the world as he did to me as his wife, I will have much to answer for.
“You knew my husband well, then?” I ask, trying to keep my tone steady as I lift my chin to meet his eyes.
“I didn’t need to get close to Pyotr Novikov to know what a piece of scum he was,” Sandro states.
My pulse jumps, adrenaline surging through my veins, and before I know it’s coming, I feel the ghost of Pyotr’s hand wrapping around my throat, staunching the oxygen flooding into my lungs.
It’s real enough, I jerk back, trying to regain my bearings as Pyotr’s sneer fades from my mind’s eye.
Yes, my husband was a monster.
Swallowing hard, I drop my eyes back to my plate in an effort to regain my composure, but so much talk about Pyotr has me rattled.
“Drop it, Sandro,” Miko commands, his voice holding an edge of authority that makes me flinch.
What is wrong with me?
Miko wasn’t even talking to me.
If anything, he was coming to my defense, and I’m half ready to jump out of my skin at his voice. Dragging in a slow breath to rein in my sudden shaking, I push my chair back and stand.
“If you’ll excuse me,” I murmur, barely able to mask the quiver in my voice, “I need to start getting ready.”
Without lifting my gaze, I exit the breakfast room at just shy of what could be called a run.
As soon as I round the corner, I press my back flat against the wall, closing my eyes to focus on my racing heart.
But I can’t stop the deluge of memories that flood into my mind—flashes from my first wedding day, Pyotr so striking with his smile and all-black suit.
He had seemed so charming back then, I’d actually been excited to say my vows.
I know better than to fall for any man’s charms now.
A sense of dread settles in my stomach as I see the same horrible ruse unfolding once again. Miko, playing the perfect gentleman—until he has me alone.
My worst nightmare is happening all over again.
11
