Page 51 of Heritage of Fire

“Nyet. Luna, you arenotgoing into a Cosa Nostra-run restaurant to have dinner with your parents alone?—”

“I told them I was coming, Nik,” I interrupt, bristling at his words.

“Not without me.” A muscle in his jaw ticks. While it’s almost too soft to feel, Nik’s thumb starts tracing circles where his hand engulfs my wrist.

“You … you want to come?”

“Let me change my shirt. This has blood on it.”

My eyes snap to his white button-down. Under the navy suit, which is classic Nik, are small constellations of blood splatter. Probably not something I want to ask about.

I nod.

He lets go of my wrist and strides to the bedroom, emerging two minutes later with a new white shirt under what looks like the same suit. He struts over, his muscular form limber and sexy, and his masculine pine scent slams into me as he walkspast. Heart pounding, I will away the heat blooming all over my body.

“Ready?” He opens the door. “I’m driving.”

We arrive at the restaurant right at six, and I procrastinate getting out of the car. The lot is full. Which means many of the Cosa Nostra are here tonight. The realization that bringing a member of the Bratva heremayhave been a bad idea enters my mind. We don’t have security tonight, and while there is an alliance in place, I’m sure there are members who aren’t on board with it.

Nik clears his throat. I sigh, pulling the handle to get out of the car.

With every step closer to the restaurant, the pressure in my chest becomes tighter and tighter.Come on, Luna. It’s just your parents.

Nik places a hand on the small of my back, and even through my multiple layers, I feel his warmth. His security. That simple gesture bestows a smidge of confidence in me, and makes me feel like I’m notquiteso alone this evening.

He opens the door for me and loud voices spill out.

Stepping in, Dante greets us. He’s Cosa Nostra but also the maître d’ of this place, and he has been with us for over ten years now.

“Luna Buscetta. It has been a long time,sei bella.” He leans in to kiss each of my cheeks, and Nik’s hand flexes on my back.

“Thanks, Dante. This is my … this is Nik.” Dante leans back and doesn’t extend his hand to Nik, and my stomach bottoms out. I was right. Having Nik here is not a good idea.

Dante leads us back through the restaurant.

A shiver slithers up my spine as I take in Antonio’s creation. Since my father has taken over, the stigma surrounding the Cosa Nostra venues has lifted some. But not for me. My uncle’s deranged actions still ignite fury within me.

Warm, muted colors remind me of the watercolor paintings of Italy’s vineyards hanging in our home—myparents’home. Rich wood chairs and tables are covered in fine linens. The main seating area is full, a mix of Cosa Nostra families and those from the city craving true, authentic Italian cuisine.

When Antonio remodeled this place, he included a private dining area for more intimate family meetings. But when Antonio started deviating from my grandfather’s vision for the Cosa Nostra, mynonnorefused to keep coming here and my father followed suit. Now that this place is under my father’s control, it’s doing well. Mynonnawould be happy.

My parents are seated together on one side of a soft leather booth with deep-colored wood. My mother spots us first, and her eyes move over me briefly before they beam over to Nik. Father’s gaze follows hers, and he stands, extending a hand to Nik.

“Nikolai, thank you for joining us. Maria and I were just talking about how much we miss Luna.”

Nik smiles. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

He guides me into the booth before him. Then glancing around, he unbuttons the last button on his suit jacket before sitting down. My father captures the attention of a waiter and we order our drinks and appetizers. There isn’t much conversation outside of small talk which I’m fine with.

“So, Luna, what have you been doing?” my mother asks.

I take a sip of my red wine. My father’s eyes land on the glass and narrow, like he just now realized what I ordered.

“I’ve just been?—”

“Luna, you are not twenty-one. You know underage drinking in our restaurants is forbidden.” My father levels a disappointed look at me.

I grimace, chewing on my lip. Nik takes a sip of his own drink and then sets it down with more force than necessary. My eyes flick to him.

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