Page 46 of Violent Pawn

Anastasia’s friendly demeanour takes a trip to the kitchen with him, as the second he’s out of view, her fist slams into my gut—and straight into my breath. “You fucking dick. You said we were going to your friend’s, not your fucking papa’s! Take me back to the villa.”

“And ruin an old man’s holiday?” Yeah, I’ll pull out every stop possible, guilt being the first. “It’s only dinner, Ana. Don’t get your ballet slippers in a knot.”

She’s so pissed, she doesn’t even correct my use of her nickname. “Nero…”

“Did you really want to be around the villa where everyone’s coupled up? As I mentioned, Gabriella knew I’d be slipping away at some point in the late afternoon. After we left, I texted her that you’re joining me so no one would be looking for you.”

“That’s not the point,” she hisses, gaze darting around the living room—to means probably much less than what she was raised within. “This is your family. Who knows what he’s assuming about us.”

“Nothing less than I’d enjoy making into reality.”

She huffs and digs her elbow into my side, I swear she’s rooting for my bone marrow. Then Padre announces food being ready, which dislodges her elbow as she straightens, looking to the doorway in case he appears.

When he doesn’t, she whirls back around, finger jammed into my face. “What does he know about you, so I know how much to say?”

“Your thoughtfulness delights me.”

Her face reddens to a shade closer to her dress. “Nero.” Hell, I think Giovanni on his worst days looked more pleasant than she does.

“Your irritation pleases me too. He’s aware I’m in the Cosa Nostra, though he doesn’t really enjoy talking about it. I haven’t told him Zeno’s engaged yet, so the Bratva has never been a topic. I think it’d be safer to say you’re a friend of Z’s fiancée, who’s nothing more than a sweet girl from Russia.”

The red shifts into a dull pink as she peeks over her shoulder with a sigh. “Alright, I can agree with that. It’s only dinner. But I’m still pissed you tricked me.”

I grip her hip to pull her against me, taking advantage of Padre being in the kitchen and the suddenness that doesn’t give her a chance to fight me off. Her hands land on my chest, imprinting a feeling of rightness that’ll never be washed off.

“Nero, let me go.”

“Let me call you Ana, Ana. After all, it’s what your friends do, and that’s what we’re pretending to be tonight.”

Her nostrils actually flare. The hands I momentarily enjoyed on my chest curl until her nails are digging through the threads of my shirt to reach skin. “No nickname. You get my cooperation and nothing more.”

“So tense,” I tease, and duck to quickly press my lips to her cheek before she shoves me away.

Right on time, she rips from my arms and stalks into the kitchen, entering as Padre’s pouring the wine.

And out comes another personality flip. “Wow, everything looks so delicious! I truly feel like I’m intruding on your evening with your son, but now it’s getting harder and harder to leave.”

He draws her to the nearest chair and takes over for me, tucking her in. He points out and labels the less popular and more local delicacies she may not be familiar with. While he’s keeping her busy by filling her plate with basically everything and more, I take my seat to her right, not bothering to conceal the genuine smile slipping onto my face.

Papa waits all of thirty seconds after sitting before asking, “How did you two meet?”

Anastasia scoops food into her mouth as she looks at me, brows raised, silently saying, You’re it.

“Z is engaged, Papa. Her name is Vanessa, and she’s from Russia.”

He curses in a loving tone. “You never mentioned him dating.”

Anastasia snorts. “Dating is a bit of a stretch. They had a strange beginning.”

Padre, ever the wise one, glances between us as his lips pinch. “Organization business?”

“Sì. She…runs an organization in Russia. That’s how they met.” So much for painting Vanessa as a pretty picture.

Padre’s eyes flick straight to Anastasia, the friendliness freezing out. “If you’re her friend…”

“Yes,” she replies slowly, resting her fork down onto the edge of her plate. She straightens, licks her lips, and waits for his judgement.

“Strong girl. Not an easy life.”