Page 88 of Violent Pawn

“So, Nero. Yes or no?”

She’s seeking an answer to that? That, which makes looking at her impossible. Not because of what she revealed, but because I didn’t know. I didn’t know their father tortured Lev in such ways and used her like that. A fucking kid, used in sex and murder schemes. Her mind fucked with, her spirit pre-torn so by the time a real romantic interest became a potential relationship, her heart and soul were already shut off.

She even said it upstairs. “Most men manipulate. That’s a lesson I learned pretty early fucking on. They use women for their own gain and never think twice about them.” It’s why she struggles with trust. Why she wouldn’t give me the time of day. Why she refused to kiss me at first. Why she froze at the concept of possession and never had a man cherish her with his mouth between her legs.

Until the other night, when she gifted me her trust…all for me to turn around and abolish it.

“No.”

She smiles. It’s nothing pretty or approachable. It’s one of destruction, meant to bring a man to his knees with a knife to his throat—if I weren’t already there.

“Exactly. So explain why you believe you had any right to take his life.”

“I’m sorry.”

Something flickers in her eyes. It’s similar to a lit candle right before a person’s hand passes over it, burning them. They travel from me to Zeno, where she manages something resembling peace. A low nod before she turns around and heads for the car, pausing with her hand on the door to face me. It’s the dirt by my knees she speaks to instead.

“Vanessa and Zeno’s wedding is the last time I ever want to see your face, Nero Amato. Never talk to me again, don’t look at me, and stop apologizing. I’m done listening.”

She gets into the car and the car’s tires skid as she takes off down the road and out of sight. The dust from her speedy exit barely settles before my Capo is in front of me, glaring with crossed arms.

“You and I are going to have a long fucking chat, right after I ensure my fiancée is still my fiancée.” He turns for his car, and like Anastasia, stops with his hand on the door. “I have so many fucking questions, I don’t even know where to begin.”

He too drives away.

When I finally make it back to the villa, Veles meets me at the door, only to be quickly disappointed I’m not Zeno. She follows me to the kitchen where I pull out my preferred brand of forgetting and forgo the glass.

I’m judged by a dog for the remainder of the night.

43

ANASTASIA

Zeno joins me on the flight back to Russia, but doesn’t speak at all. I’m grateful for the solidarity, though admittingly, it’s strange to be coming from him.

While I curl up on the farthest seat available and glare out the window at the night sky from Rome to Moscow, he sits on the adjacent couch, reading a book from the small selection stored for entertainment.

I nap on and off, waking when the plane’s wheels thud to the tarmac. Zeno tosses the book onto the nearby table and picks up his sweater from where he discarded it hours prior, tossing it over my shoulders.

“You look cold.”

“Thanks.” Smiling weakly, I tuck the sweater around me tighter and even accept his offer of help off the couch. He lets me walk ahead and down the stairs, to the car I drove here earlier…yesterday—whenever.

“You okay to drive?”

Without replying, I take the passenger seat and toss him the keys so he can get us home.

It’s strange, sitting in the front seat of my own vehicle, in my own city, as a Cosa Nostra Capo drives me home. A man who’ll be my best friend’s husband within months. In another life, we should never have been in the same country, let alone a vicinity this close.

In another life, when Papa ruled me, I was once enthralled by the Italian stranger who appeared backstage, only to save me and disappear for a decade.

We approach Bratva territory, and the soldier on guard waves at Zeno and me before speaking into the radio all sentries are equipped with. So it’s unsurprising when we arrive and Zeno parks by the side of the house, that Vanessa is exiting at the same time. She runs into Zeno’s arms, only to immediately pull back when noticing me.

I slip off her fiancé’s sweater and hand it back with a grateful smile before turning for the door, stopping only when she grabs my wrist. “Lev told me what happened when you two went to your papa’s. I’m sorry, but incredibly confused.” Her head tips ever so slightly in the direction of Zeno.

“We should talk.” Zeno directs her inside, and I trail them like a ghost within my own house. A ghost of the woman who planned her father’s torture and death years prior only to have the build-up robbed.

I slump into my usual chair within Vanessa’s office, arms falling to either side of the curved armrests. In my peripheral vision, Lev takes the second chair while Vanessa hops onto her desk, directing her attention to Zeno.