About what I saw.
Or didn't see.
Dmitri
The meeting with Pietro and Nico drags longer than expected.
Territory disputes. Distribution routes. The usual complications that come with running an empire.
I lean back in Pietro's leather chair, watching him sign the final document.
"That settles the northern routes," Pietro says, sliding the papers across his desk. "Your men can start moving product through there by next week."
I nod. "Igor will coordinate with your people."
"Good." Pietro stands, rolling his shoulders. The weight of leadership sits heavy on him. I recognize the posture. The tension that never quite leaves.
We've been at this for three hours. Hashing out details. Negotiating percentages. Building the foundation of an alliance that will reshape Chicago's underworld.
Nico turns from the window. "The Corellis won't like this."
"The Corellis can choke on their objections." I rise from my seat. "They had their chance to play nice."
Pietro's mouth twitches. Almost a smile. "Diplomatic as always, Baganov."
"I save diplomacy for people who deserve it."
We move toward the door. Pietro opens it, and the sounds of the compound filter in. Distant voices. Footsteps on marble. The clatter of dishes from somewhere deeper in the house.
Vittoria appears in the hallway. Like she was waiting.
My chest tightens at the sight of her. Three weeks until she's my wife. Three weeks that feel like an eternity.
She's changed since I saw her this morning. Different dress. Hair pulled back. Dark circles under her eyes that she's tried to hide with makeup.
Something's wrong.
"Is everything alright?"
"Fine." The word comes too quickly. "I just wanted to ask if we could stay for dinner tonight."
I glance at Pietro, who shrugs.
"Giulia came back," Vittoria continues. "She's making her best dishes. You haven't lived until you've tasted her ossobuco."
"She came back?" I ask.
Vittoria's smile falters. Just for a second. "This morning. She said she missed us."
There's more to that story. I can see it in the way she holds herself. The tension in her shoulders.
But now isn't the time to push.
"I'd be honored to stay."
Her relief is visible. Subtle, but there. "Good. Thank you."
She turns and walks toward the dining room. I follow, falling into step beside her.
