I wait to hear what he has to say.
"I have a place for you in my organization." He looks up, eyes cold as steel. "But understand something. I'm not as lenient as my brother. You go against me, even once, and I'll put a bullet in your head myself. No second chances."
I nod stiffly. "I understand."
"Do you?" He narrows his eyes. "Because from where I'm standing, you've already proven yourself willing to betray one Dante brother. Why should I trust you won't do the same to me?"
“I wouldn’t betray him if he wasn’t betraying his sister. Everything I've done, everything I'm willing to do, is for her."
Something in Luca's expression shifts, softens momentarily before hardening again. "I'll keep in contact with Valentina. If anything changes, if Maksim makes a move that crosses the line, I'll know about it."
“And you’ll tell me?”
He’s noncommittal, but what choice do I have?
"For now, that's the best I can offer," Luca continues. "If you want to stay in Chicago, work for me, you'll have that connection. Otherwise…" He shrugs, the meaning clear.
I swallow my rage, my desperation. A good soldier knows when to retreat, when to regroup. When to wait for the perfect moment to strike.
"I accept your offer," I say, not at all sure that I shouldn’t just get in my car and drive back to New York and burn Maksim’s house to the ground.
31
VALENTINA
I flinch as the decorative table crashes to the floor beside me, crystal vases shattering across the marble.
Tea and water splash my dress, but I don't move, don't breathe.
Maksim's face hovers inches from mine, his spittle hitting my cheek as he screams. "You think I care about their excuses? I am Maksim Vasiliev! They will find a way or I will find someone who will!"
The wedding planner shrinks into herself, clipboard clutched to her chest like that will protect her. She's new. The other quit after witnessing similar outbursts.
It seems Maksim has stopped hiding his true self now that I don’t have a bodyguard.
I miss Cristian so much it hurts. He'd never have let Maksim get this close to me.
"Perhaps we could substitute with—" I start, voice steady despite the terror.
"No substitutes!" His fist slams into the wall next to my head. "Nothing but the best for my bride."
But this isn’t about what I want. It’s all about him.
"Of course," I murmur, hands instinctively moving to my abdomen before I catch myself.
Maksim's eyes follow the movement, narrowing slightly. "You're not eating enough. You're too thin."
"Wedding jitters," I lie. Morning sickness has made it difficult to keep food down.
He straightens, smoothing his jacket as if he hasn't just terrorized the room. "Fix it," he orders the wedding planner. "Or I'll have your hands broken."
The poor woman nods frantically, tears welling.
When Maksim leaves to take a call, I exhale shakily.
"Are you alright, Miss Dante?" the planner whispers.
I help her gather scattered papers. "I'm sorry. This isn't your fault."
