Page 52 of Violent Pawn

The bottle thumps home harder than intended on the countertop. He will find himself a fucking challenge if he keeps talking. “I enjoy a challenge, sì, but she’s more than that.”

His chin lifts so he’s looking down on me with that Capo demeanour I’m positive Giovanni trained him in. “So you genuinely like her?”

“Sì.”

He eyes my glass with disdain, but skips saying what’s really on his mind to shrug. “Good luck then.”

“Won’t need it. Turns out, I’m the precise shade of dirt that looks good on her shoes.”

Zeno howls in laughter.

The afternoon passes in a flurry of holiday activities Gabriella directs us all through. It’s a bit fun, but more importantly, it evaporates the grim mood that took over Anastasia this morning.

I’m slightly jealous Gabriella made that happen and not me.

I’ve spent the day reliving what happened; the good and the bad. Waking wrapped around her was a special kind of bliss, but the trauma she endured didn’t make it worth it. I’d undo it if I could, if only I wasn’t so shitty at grovelling.

I’ve never had a person to grovel over before.

When my phone rings, it rips me away from my stalkerish staring. Noting the number flashing on my screen, I rush from the room and jog down the hallway, putting as much distance between me and the others before answering.

“You’re working on Christmas?”

“Best time to locate people,” the voice of the private investigator I’ve hired, unknown to Zeno, comes through. “Such as Abrum Angeloff. He never left Russia two years ago. More specifically, he’s living in a small village on the outskirts called Podolsk and is without protection. His house is small, located at the end of a dead-end road. Very private,” he reinforces, the man clearly having pieced together my intent for the list of men I sent his way. “Check your email in a moment. You’ll receive the address and photos of the place.”

If Angeloff never fled Russia, then he’s hanging close by the Bratva. Basically, he could be a major liability to Vanessa’s rule. She’ll thank me for taking him out before he can strike an attack.

“Any word on Petrov?” I grip the phone tighter, anticipating. If he could locate Petrov without me figuring it out from Anastasia, she and I could go on without the added complication.

“None. But you mentioned his son’s good with computers, yeah? It wouldn’t surprise me if he has systems to interfere with any search of his father.”

Fuck you, Lev. “What do you have so far?”

“Truthfully, nothing. Not even a continent.”

I huff into the phone. So close yet so fucking far. “Keep searching.”

Find him before I’m forced to.

The afternoon progresses right into the Christmas feast Gabriella prepared. She only had help from Elio since she kicked everyone else out of the kitchen. It’s a much noisier affair than the one Anastasia and I shared with Padre yesterday. She remains the quietest person in the group, which is unlike her. She’s quieter than even Lev.

She’s seated across from me, between Lev and Vanessa, and spends her time talking to each of them. As supper begins winding down, eventually the others will wander off together, leaving her and me alone again.

As expected, after the food is finished, Gabriella ushers everyone out so her hired staff from yesterday’s celebrations can clean.

Serafina and Lev waste no time before taking off to Sera’s preferred living room since it has the largest TV throughout the villa. Dimitri and Katya join Zeno and Vanessa for a walk outdoors with the dogs. Elio eventually drives Gabriella back to Ostia, who’s opted to not sleep another night here.

As everyone spreads out, I latch onto Anastasia before she can escape too far. Her sigh could be heard from every corner of the house, and having my angelo in a devil’s horns back makes me grin.

“Excuse me.” She attempts to dislodge herself. “I might join my brother and Sera for a movie. You could come.”

“I have something for you.”

Something I’ve been carrying around since yesterday, waiting for the right time to give it to her. Last night went by too quickly, and she kept Padre’s attention, and I couldn’t take away from that. Then in bed, we had a moment—whatever that fully means—but after this morning, a present might be seen as an apology gift. Since the holiday is hours away from being over, I’m running out of time.

I slide my hand into my pocket to take out the gift card to an online retailer of her preferred ballet brand.

“I wish it could be more, or fancier, but you’re a hard woman to shop for.”