"Really?" Oksana levels him with a stare.
"Easy," I pat her hand on my elbow, "They invited me. Call Raf."
I don't have the patience for this game, but I'd rather wait a few minutes than have Oksana kill the guards of four of the most powerful men in the city. We might have become friends, but I doubt their tolerance would go that far.
"It's alright," at Silvano's voice, I turn. I didn't expect Enrico’s consigliere to be down here. "Stephano."
"Silvano," I nod. "This is Oksana Conti, my wife," I introduce, "Oksana, Silvano, Enrico's consigliere."
I'm sure she can hear the warning in my voice to play nice, just like I can hear her slight exhale of exaggeration, but she puts on one of her cold smiles and holds out her hand to Silvano, "Pleasure."
"The pleasure is all mine, Signora Conti."
The front door opens, and Oksana and I step in. She waits until the doors are closed behind us. "You should have beheaded them all for their insubordination."
"We don't recklessly kill our soldiers," I inform her, watching her with amusement as she shakes her head and mumbles something in Russian. I need to polish up on that language.
"No wonder the Cosa Nostra is weak," she says, chin up, arms folded like a queen judging her subjects. "You need a woman's touch."
A chuckle rumbles through my chest. "You forget, Zhena, not everyone solves problems with a bullet and a prayer."
She gives me that look—the one that could peel paint. "No, you prefer to sit in rooms full of liars and call it diplomacy."
"I call it strategy," I counter.
"I call it suicide with better table manners," she shoots back.
I shake my head, still smiling. "And yet, somehow, you married into this circus."
Oksana steps closer, the space between us shrinking until I can feel the heat coming off her. The corner of her mouth lifts, dangerous and soft all at once. "No, Marito," she murmurs. "I married the one man crazy enough to think he can fix it."
I reach up, tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear, let my hand linger on her jaw for a second longer than I should.
"Then let’s not prove you wrong," I reply hoarsely.
Her smile sharpens. "Don’t plan to."
The war’s waiting. But for one breath, one heartbeat, it’s just us, her fire, my calm, and the storm we keep promising to unleash.
Several high-ranking guards stand in the foyer, watching us enter, undoubtedly having been given the heads up by Silvano.
Luciano, Marcello's right-hand man, opens the door to the conference room for us, "This way."
I nod in acknowledgement, put on my usual Stephano mask, and enter the room. All four of them are there when we walk in.
Enrico. Marcello. Toni. And the man who used to be a shadow, now sitting at the head of the table like he owns the night—Raffael DeSantis.
The air is thick with whiskey and power plays, the kind of silence that comes right before someone flips a table or crowns a king.
"Hey, kids," I greet, keeping my voice casual, like I’m walking into a poker night instead of a war council. "Did the game start without me?"
Four pairs of eyes swing my way. I move first, Oksana at my side, my storm wrapped in red and danger. Even in a room full of killers, she’s the one everyone tracks first. They might not know who she is, but their instincts do. Something about her sayshuntress.
Raf freezes for half a second. He hides it well, but I see it. The calculation. The surprise. Maybe a little relief. He’s gotten good at masks, but then again, so have I. I notice something else, a faint nod between Oksana and Raf. They know each other. An unknown emotion: jealousyslides through me like a carving knife. I push it down. Later. First, I let the door swing shut behind us, the sound sharp in the silence. "This is my wife," I add, because I want the others, especially Raf, to know. "Oksana."
A ripple moves through the room. Shock. Curiosity. Disbelief. Even Enrico’s poker face fractures for half a heartbeat. None of them has ever known me to even date.
Oksana’s hand rests lightly on my arm, a signal only I know, steady, silent, ready. She scans the room once, smiles that small, knowing smile that promises both charm and violence. I see Toni’s throat move as he swallows. Smart man.
