Page 42 of Violent Pawn

Gabriella’s invitation extended beyond Vanessa and Lev, as her children’s partners, to include Dimitri, Katya, and Anastasia. She said they’re all Vanessa’s family, and thus hers, all without a care regarding the organization they sold their souls to.

It’ll be a long afternoon of watching Gabriella dominate. “She’s excited by your engagement.”

Zeno rubs the bare place on his left hand where a wedding band will soon sit. “More than I believed possible. Add in the fact she adores Lev. She’s a whole new person this year.” He twists his head in time to watch me swallow another gulp. “Be careful today.”

“Worried I’ll ruin your party?”

“Not mine. Hers.” He gestures to his mother

“I won’t.” Gabriella would cut my head off herself and cook it in place of the main course if I fucked up today. “When are they arriving?”

He glances at the last text sent to his phone. “As of twenty minutes ago, Elio was on his way back from the airfield with them.”

“I still think it’s hilarious your mother sent him to retrieve them before you had a chance to do it yourself. As if she believed you’d abandon your fiancée.”

His responding sigh is painted with affection. “Pretty sure if we budge an inch from this spot”—he gestures to the small cut-out of the foyer Gabriella demanded we remain by with explicit instructions to ‘not get in the way’—“she’d murder us. You know Madre and her plans.” He pauses, glancing to where she’s plugging in a string of lights that were wrapped around the banister. “She was like this when I was a kid.”

“Do you think if your padre was still around, she’d have hosted here?”

He purses his lips, nodding slowly. “Pretty sure she would have commanded the villa regardless of whether he was alive or not. She would have told him where to shove it if he bitched.”

“He wouldn’t have supported your relationship with Vanessa.”

“No,” he replies slowly, considering. “The war between the Bratva and us had been going on well before his death, so Ursin was always an enemy. But Madre would have put him in his place. I know it.”

Now I regret bringing Giovanni up. I down the rest of my glass and scan the foyer for one of the many staff who are scattered around to order another. If I’m not allowed to move, it doesn’t mean things can’t get brought to me.

Zeno’s phone vibrates as Elio’s name flashes across the screen at the same time Gabriella rushes from down the hall, her own cell in hand, presumably a duplicate text informing her they’ve arrived.

She yanks her son’s sleeve to drag him closer to the entrance before returning for me, tugging me beside him. “Be nice, boys. Greet your new family.”

“As if we’re children,” Zeno mumbles beneath his breath while Gabriella pulls open the door, welcoming a bluster of cool winter air and then the group beyond.

As a Capo’s wife, this was once her life. She was in charge of the social connections that’d later bring people closer to her husband to form backdoor deals. It was a life she left behind eighteen years ago, yet fell right back into for today.

Gabriella waves Vanessa through the door, clasping one of her hands. “Ciao! Come stai? Merry Christmas!” It’s amazing they only met recently, because then Gabriella yanks the Pakhan down to her height to press kisses to either cheek before pushing Vanessa towards Zeno.

At their feet, Vanessa’s Doberman, Veles, greets Venus, who’s the reason Vanessa even got a dog from Zeno.

“This place looks fantastic,” she compliments the fact that a department store threw up in here. “Thank you for having us.”

One scan of this place confirms Gabriella pulled out every stop possible. She’s transformed the villa’s entranceway into something strung with ribbons and more lit candles than I believed they made. There’s even a small Christmas tree in the corner—not to be confused with the even grander one in the living room.

Gabriella greets the others—first her daughter, who she hugs tightly, and then the comically stiff Lev. Vanessa takes over to introduce Dimitri and Katya, and finally Anastasia, who enters last. She focuses her attention on Gabriella, greets Zeno, and ignores me.

It’s been a bit over a week since my trip to Moscow for her show, and I’ve resisted texting her beyond that night. It wouldn’t surprise me if she blocked my number, and my pride didn’t want to figure it out.

The couples begin moving throughout the space. Elio trails Gabriella deeper into the house, which leaves Anastasia hovering alone. She passes me, chin lifted, trying to make a point that only has me chuckling.

I follow her to the grand living room, where Gabriella insists everyone start eating from the simple—her words—buffet of snacks and holiday treats she had the catering team set out for their arrival.

Anastasia edges by the group to the side of the room and leans against a wall by the window. Seeing it as my chance, I wander up beside her, eyeing the off-the-shoulder red dress that has me feeling like a bull. It bares her neck, the taste of which has been lingering in my mouth.

“You okay?” I ask in a low voice.

“Should I not be?”

“You look miserable. Drink?” I shake mine in front of her.