"Excuse me." I pull my phone from my purse. "I need to make a call."
Karolina nods, her attention still on Natalia. Vladimir watches me stand but says nothing.
I move to the far corner of the room, near a window overlooking the dark grounds. The glass reflects my face back at me—pale, makeup slightly smudged, hair still perfect from Amanda's earlier styling. I look like a woman who was on a date, not someone standing in a house where death waits down the hall.
I tap Pietro's contact.
He answers on the first ring.
"Where the hell are you?" His voice is sharp, clipped. The Don voice.
"I'm at Dmitri's family house. The Baganov estate."
"I know." A pause weighted with anger. "Elio already informed me. What I want to know is why you're inside that house without your security detail."
I close my eyes. "It was unexpected. His father?—"
"Cazzo." The curse comes out rough, tired. "You should have called me immediately."
"I know. I'm sorry. Everything happened fast."
"Everything always happens fast with you lately." But the edge in his voice has softened. Just slightly. "Dante is on his way. He'll wait outside with Elio until you're ready to leave."
I roll my eyes, grateful he can't see me. Dante. Of course. Because one bodyguard sitting in the cold isn't enough. I need two.
But this isn't the moment to argue.
"Fine."
"Vittoria." Pietro's tone shifts again, something almost gentle beneath the authority. "Be careful. The Baganovs are allies now, but grief makes people unpredictable."
"I know."
"Call me when you're leaving."
"I will."
The line goes dead.
I stare at my phone for a moment, at the dark screen reflecting my face. Then I slip it back into my purse and return to the armchair by the fire. I sigh and they must heard me.
Karolina glances up as I sit. "Everything alright?"
"Yes. Just letting my family know where I am."
She nods, understanding flickering in her red-rimmed eyes. "Of course. Your brothers must be protective."
"That's one word for it."
A ghost of a smile crosses her face. "Dmitri is the same. With all of us." Her gaze drifts toward the doorway where her brother disappeared. "Especially now."
Natalia shifts against her sister's shoulder, fresh tears sliding down her cheeks. "I don't want him to go," she whispers. "I know he was terrible sometimes, but he's still?—"
"Shh." Karolina presses a kiss to her hair. "I know. I know."
Vladimir hasn't moved from his position by the fireplace. His arms remain crossed, his jaw tight. But I catch the way his throat works, the slight tremor in his hands that he hides by gripping his own biceps.
The fire crackles and pops.
