Page 20 of A Bride for the Mafia King

At first, he didn't respond. But his eyes soften as he sips his wine, expression thoughtful. Then, without looking at me, he says quietly, “It was my parents’ dying wish.”

The words hang between us, fragile and final.

I don’t push for more, deciding it’s a subject best left for another time.

My gaze drifts toward the dining room where several older men sit, their eyes roaming over the crowd. Tolya takes a look at them and pointedly pulls me closer, nuzzling my neck for a brief moment and inhaling my scent.

“You’re enjoying this a little too much,” I protest teasingly, attempting to lighten the air between us.

His brow quirks, his voice low as he speaks close to my ear. “Would you rather I ignore you again?”

“Well, no. Of course not,” I admit with a smile. “Touché.”

He chuckles. The sound only holds mild amusement though.

“They,” he nods at the room full of guests, “need to see us united. They need to believe that we are more than just idle threats and passing powers. They need to see something real.”

“So what you’re saying is to smile and look pretty,” I murmur.

“What I’m saying is that if we are going to survive the vipers’ nest we’re in, we are going to need to do it together. If we’re lucky, we’ll come out on top.” He locks his gorgeous ice blue eyes with my own, his gaze darkening. “And maybe we will walk away with something even better than survival.”

He lets that hang in the air between us for a moment. I think he might just kiss me right there in front of everyone. His eyes drop to my lips, but just before they make contact, he speaks.

“Now smile,” he says with a squeeze of his hand on my waist. “They’re watching.”

Chapter Eight

Eva

The Dinner Party, Day Four

The hum of conversation continues all around us, dulling the moment I see the Italian contingency arrive.

I stiffen instinctively, the air catching in my lungs. “Well that’s just wonderful…”

Tolya’s hand moves immediately to the small of my back, steady and grounding. He looks at me with mild concern. “What’s that?”

I nod toward the door while taking a hefty drink from my wine glass. My eyes lock on the trio who just entered. My brother is in the lead, flanked by two other men.

“The men with Nico. Fabio Narducci and Giovanni De Mello…” I barely whisper the name. Giovanni is as cruel and disgusting as the Don and I’ve always counted my blessings that he’s never set his eyes on me the way the Don has. A shiver runs down my spine at the very thought of it.

Tolya follows my gaze and tenses beside me. “I’m not familiar.”

“Fabio’s the Don’s top capo,” I murmur. “Giovanni… he’s the Don’s cousin. Nasty piece of work that one.”

“Charming,” Tolya mutters. “Nico didn’t mention we’d be blessed by Italian royalty this evening.”

“It’s unusual for him to attend such functions,” I say. “They must be here to make a point of some sort. Otherwise, Giovanni wouldn’t bother.”

“They always are.”

The trio approaches us, and Tolya gives them a curt nod in greeting, which is returned by Nico and Fabio. Giovanni, however, has his eyes locked onto me.

“Nico,” Tolya acknowledges.

“Tolya,” my brother returns the acknowledgement just as dryly before turning to me with a small smile. “Eva.”

I nod in greeting, returning his smile.