Then, a pawn. Something to marry off for the security of alliance.
None of those are roles I choose for myself though. And honestly, this whole thing has made me realize how little I know about my own desires.
I'm in the library contemplating all of this when Lyla finds me.
"Mrs. Marini? There's someone here to see you."
"Who?" I'm not expecting anyone. These days, there's no one to come and see me anyway. Luca and Adrian have cut me from the family, and all my friends from school have dropped off.
"He didn't give a name. Just said he had business with you and Mr. Marini." She looks nervous. "He's...Russian. From another family."
My heart is in my throat. Shit.
"Where's Saint?" My voice is breathless, and I realize my hands are shaking slightly. I clench and unclench my fingers.
"Still in his meeting. I can interrupt?—"
"No. I'll handle it." Saint doesn't need to be involved—yet.
I stand. Smooth my dress. There's no way a Russian would come here to kill me. The compound is teaming with guards. Saint and Marcello are so worried about security, they have sharpshooters stationed around. Whoever this is, they are here for something else. "Where is he?"
"The front parlor," she glances around. "I didn't want to let him in, but the guards allowed him entrance, so I assumed…"
I swallow. Of course, Lyla would assume he'd been given access. Who the hell is this? The guards wouldn't let just anyone through, especially someone from another family. At the very least, they'd check with Saint, disrupt his meeting…
I smile, trying to calm Lyla. "It's alright," I say, my voice unusually high. "I'll see him."
I make my way to the parlor.
I reach it. Take a breath and open the door.
A man stands by the window. Tall. Broad-shouldered. Dark hair. Expensive suit that doesn't quite hide the predator underneath.
He turns when I enter, and smiles.
It's not a nice smile. There's something feral in it. Maybe the fact that it doesn't reach his eyes. It's false. Rehearsed. It's likehe's pretending to be a person instead of actually being warm and genuine.
I'm immediately on edge. This is not a friendly visitor. This is someone dangerous. Immediately, I regret not getting Saint.
"Mrs. Marini. How lovely to finally meet you."
His accent is Russian but refined. Educated. Nothing like Alexei's rough edges.
"I'm sorry, do I know you?" I plaster on my own fake smile, pulling on every bit of training Bianca ever gave me.
"Not yet. But you knew my—" He pauses. "You knew Alexei quite well, I understand."
My blood turns to ice.
"I knew of Alexei," I say, not breaking character. "A shame. We weren't able to attend the funeral. I was ill."
He makes a noise in the back of his throat. "I suppose it is tacky to attend the farewell of a man your husband nearly killed." He moves closer. Slowly. Like he has all the time in the world. "How does he feel about you finishing the job?"
Fuck.
Fuck fuck fuck.
I square my shoulders, determined not to show fear. "I think you should leave."
