“No,” she interrupts quickly, swallowing hard. “I can’t…Dmitri…”
“He’d love for you to meet them,” I press on. “Even without talking to him. Let me bring them to you? You can sit with your father. Anton hasn’t had a lot of time with them either, I’m sure he’d love it.”
She startles. “You call my father Anton?”
The way she whispers his name like she can’t believe it has me silently cracking up.
“Only when he can’t hear me,” I admit, chuckling. “You won’t tell on me, will you?”
“N-no,” Anya stammers, shaking her head.
“We share a secret now,” I say, wiggling my eyebrows. “That makes us friends, you know?”
“Does it?”
“Uh-huh.” A fast-paced song begins to play, and we stop swaying. “I’m going to take you back to your seat and return with two small children. Blink twice if youreallydon’t want me to.”
“If you’re sure no one will be mad…”
“Are you kidding? Jade’s going to be elated. She’ll probably shed tears.”
Anya seems to chew over the plan, but quickly relents. “Okay.”
Chapter Two
Anya
My heart is racing impossibly fast as Matteo Moretti returns me to my father’s table, promising to come back in mere moments. I had planned to get through this wedding by interacting with as few strangers as possible. I certainly didn’t imagine that I would accept a dance with anyone, let alone one of the many Moretti sons.
I couldn’t say no when he asked me, not when I expected terror to hit me and the only thing I felt was a gentle excitement at the idea. He handcuffed himself in the middle of a wedding reception without shame or hesitation simply to make me comfortable enough to share a dance with him.
How could I reject such a gesture?
Especially when I didn’t feel scared enough to faint.
I’m still processing these past few minutes when my father speaks.
“Did he say he was coming back?” His question is stiff, but not harsh.
I bob my head, nodding slowly. “He’s bringing the twins to see us. That’s okay, right?”
He looks over his shoulder to spot Matteo, watching as one of his brothers unlocks his handcuffs. I can’t read the expression on my father’s face, but he doesn’t seem angry, and certainly not furious. That’s a good sign, at least.
“It’s okay,” he agrees, turning back to me. “Areyouokay?”
I don’t even know how to explain what I’m feeling, but I know he’s mostly asking to make sure I’m not freaking out or hurt.
“I’m okay,” I confirm, twisting my hands in my lap. “He was nice.”
“Too nice?” Uncle Lev asks harshly. I’m not surprised to see him so heated. He’d be ready to jump at the opportunity to bash Matteo for simply breathing near me, and he did much more than that.
“Friendly,” I clarify, face feeling warm. “I don’t think he’s interested in me in that way.”
I don’t think any man is, but my uncles and my father are more skeptical. It’s in their nature to be.
“I don’t like the look of him,” Uncle Mikhail grumbles.
Nose wrinkling, I ask, “How does he look?”
