“We can’t raise suspicion. With law enforcement, with Peter.” With Luca Moretti.
I hugged her close for the purpose of whispering in her ear. “We never talked about getting rid of your husband. Forget it. Have amnesia about it.” I leaned away. “None of this is your fault. You were the perfect wife.”
Her mouth twitched amidst the tears streaming down her face. “I loved him.”
“Perfect.” Then, I lowered my voice again. “Call the cops at five a.m. Under no circumstances are you to contact me. I will come to you when I’m ready. It has to appear as if I found out from other sources. Also, whatever you hear about me, do not react.”
Anya pushed away, alarm shadowing her eyes. “Kirill?”
When I simply stared at her, she pressed, “You’re scaring me. What are you going to do?”
Besides marrying a viper?
“Trust me. I need you to play the part of a devoted and grieving widow.” I gave her a light shake again. “It’s important for my plans to work.”
It took another ten minutes of trying to pry myself away from Anya. Time to face the person who would make this master plan flawless.
“This isn’t set in stone,”Margo Winthrop told me when she appeared at my door at five a.m. “I want to see with my own eyes you’re not blackmailing the poor girl.”
I was running on caffeine and the euphoria that success was within reach. The matchmaker was my last hurdle. Well, she and Lucy accepting the arranged marriage.
I scoffed as I led the woman to my study. “Poor girl? She’s a conniving, nosy, interfering little brat.”
Perfect for me.
“Yet you want to marry her.”
“Could be fun.”
“I can see that and don’t think I don’t know this has nothing to do with Viktor Koshkin’s encounter with the cops. You’re insulating yourself against backlash.” She narrowed her eyes.“I’m not sure from whom, and you’re not giving me enough information to approve the match.”
“Unless Lucy is willing.”
She nodded. “Unless Lucy is willing. But the contract I have is intent to marry. That simply states that there was an honest consideration of a marriage proposal.” She shook her head partly from amusement when my face didn’t show her anything. “This isn’t a game. You do not want to mess with the De Luccis or the Morettis.”
“Yet you’re right here because Lucy De Lucci has turned down eight of your matches and you’re desperate.”
“You’ve turned down twenty-five,” she retorted.
“That was over a ten-year period.”
“Now you want an alliance with the Italians through Lucy De Lucci. The woman who almost singlehandedly brought down your organization and sent your best friend to prison. Forgive me if I don’t trust your intentions.”
I played my final card. The matchmaker would be my staunchest ally before we met my bride. And Lucy will be my bride. “This doesn’t leave this room.”
She stiffened.
“Peter doesn’t know about it. And what you have”—I tipped my chin toward the folder she was holding—“is going to prevent a war between the Russians and the Italians.”
When she didn’t say anything, I added, “Do I have your word, Margo?”
“Do I have to know about it?” she ventured. Margo was playing coy. She loved secrets, especially ones to hold over someone’s head. But it was a balance, especially when the mob was involved, because she couldn’t risk blowback either if she took part in a cover-up.
A short chuckle escaped my mouth. “No. But then you’ll have to be singing my virtues to Lucy to convince her to marry me.”
“So, you don’t really have her approval yet.” Margo crossed her arms and eyed me drily before casting a brief glance at the door.
“She’s thinking about it.”
