Page 38 of Between Us

Stepan was in charge of the newly acquired territory that had belonged to Nero Rossetti until he struck a deal with the Bratva. “They don't like it. Haven't seen such a bunch of begrudging assholes since my father and his brother got into a fight over some money and almost killed each other.”

Roman smoked his cigarette, thoughtful. “You think some of them could act out?”

“I don't know. There is resentment on both sides. Shit could turn ugly.”

“What about our men? Is there still talk about my marriage?”

Stepan hesitated, and Roman had his answer before his friend finally responded. “Some of them can't and won't ever accept your father's decision. They won't voice their opinion in front of your family, but the discontent is there and it won't go away anytime soon.”

“Who?”

“Boris, Ivan, and others.”

“Ivan?” He gave Stepan a surprised look. Ivan was one of Roman’smen. He had been tasked with driving Alessandra to her parents' house today. A feeling ofunease started in the pit of his stomach, but he pushed it down quickly. Ivan wouldn't dare do anything stupid. His animosity for the Italians aside, he was a loyal soldier and would never go against his Brigadier.

“He hasn't been as vocal as the others, but he let it slip that he's not very happy with our alliance with the Outfit.”

Roman let out an irritated sigh. Despite the circumstances of their marriage, Alessandra had turned out to be a great choice for a wife, but being married to the enemy's daughter brought more of a hassle than he cared for. It was currently giving him a goddamn headache.

He flicked his cigarette butt to the ground, putting it out with the tip of his shoe. “I have to get going. Let me know if the men become too vocal. I'd like to avoid a fucking riot.”

???

Later that evening, Roman entered the house through the kitchen. Grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge, he ignored the casserole their new cook had left on the top shelf and headed upstairs. He drained the entire bottle by the time he made it at the foot of the stairs, and as he ambled through the darkness, his steps echoed in the silence blanketing the house like a pleasant cocoon.

As soon as he opened the bedroom door, he stopped short, empty bottle in hand. The room was nearly pitch dark and eerily quiet. He listened intently for any sounds coming from the bathroom, and when there was nothing, he decided to check for good measure.With no sign of activity in the house, he reached into his pocket for his cell phone and dialed Alessandra's number.

“Hey.” Her voice was too low against the loud noise in the background—an amalgam of cheery voices and what sounded like a pop song.

His first instinct was annoyance, but he managed to keep it from spilling on his tongue. “Where are you?”

“I'm with your sister.”

“Where?”

“Uh… it's this pub called Sunshine.”

His displeasure dissolved, if only momentarily. At least the pub was affiliated to the Bratva, so she wasn't in any immediate danger. “You should have told me you were going.”

“Sorry.” Her voice was soft and apologetic, and he shook his head to himself.

“I'm coming to pick you up.”

“Okay.”

He hung up and ran a palm over his jaw in frustration.This girl.

By the time he made it to the pub, his mood had improved somewhat. Scanning the crowd, he found his wife and his sister huddled together in a booth at the back of the joint.

“Roman, long time no see.” The man crossing the room with a tray full of empty glasses stopped in front of him and shook his hand respectfully. Mikhail—commonly known as Misha—was the owner of the pub and an associate of their organization. “Can I get you a drink?”

“I'm not staying.”

“Your sister's in the back.”

Roman nodded in acknowledgement, deciding to focus his attention on Misha for a minute. “How are things? Everything good?”

Misha hesitated before setting the tray on a table and answering with a question of his own. “Can I keep you for a minute?”

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