Page 134 of Tragic Empire
“As well as brothers get along at their age,” he replies, smiling. “They love each other for most of the day and have some little spats here and there. Reminds me of me and Cassio growing up.”
“So Bastian is hiding Leo in closets?” my husband inquires, sliding a hand to the small of my back.
Leon snorts. “You’re never going to let that go, are you?”
“Never,” Cassio agrees. “Don’t hold your breath on that one.”
“Brothers,” Jade huffs. “Such drama queens.”
And we wouldn’t have it any other way.
Epilogue 2
Cassio
“Your speech was lovely,” I tell my wife for the third time. I know she was nervous about it, but she really did a great job. I know she made Jade cry, and if we weren’t in public, I think Dad would have shed a tear or two.
Ana sighs. “This whole day has been lovely.”
That it has.
But the night isn’t over yet, and with a guest list full of gangsters, anything could go wrong. I’m not on edge, per se, but I’m certainly on alert. The only people in attendance are trusted family and friends, coupled with some staff for food and cleanup, but still. Being prepared is the key to keeping everything in order.
My eyes scan the party, catching on the sight of my youngest brother approaching the Morozov table. Having shed his jacket, Matteo swaggers over to Dmitri’s father with his sleeves rolled up and hands empty to demonstrate a lack of threat.
As much as he’s a jokester, my little brother is intelligent too.
Anton Morozov doesn’t greet him with a warm look, but he isn’t exactly a welcoming kind of man. He’s a Pakhan through and through. The chilly stare he hits Matteo with doesn’t faze him, of course.
Sharing the same table, his daughter Anya is flanked by her uncles Lev and Mikhail Morozov. Their icy glares match their eldest brother’s. And still, Matteo greets the group with a wide, boy-ish grin.
I can’t hear him from where I’m standing, but given the absolute shock on Anya’s face, Matteo has addressed her directly.
“Excuse me for a moment,forza,” I murmur to my wife, kissing the side of her face. “I need to go make sure Matteo doesn’t get himself killed on our sister’s wedding day.”
Ana giggles and watches me go. As I pass by him, I grab Ivan by the arm, tugging the man along with me. He doesn’t protest.
“Aw, shit,” he curses, seeing what I’m seeing.
We stop a few feet short of the scene, standing by in case something goes terribly wrong and guns get drawn. Only Matteo hasn’t seemed to piss anyone off to that level yet.
My eyebrows shoot to my hairline as I watch him pull out a pair of handcuffs from his slacks. The three Russian mobsters stare at him like he has seven heads as he locks both of his wrists into the metal constraints.
Finally able to hear him, I listen in as Matteo continues to address the youngest Morozov sibling.
“Now, I know being handcuffed isn’t exactly enough reassurance that you’re safe with me—we are strangers after all. So, I’d like to ask that your father and uncles keep their…aimon me while we dance. That is, if you’d like to? I promise, I won’t lay a hand on you.”
A dance.He’s asking her todance.
Fuck, he is such a sweet little moron. I know I said he’s smart, but my God. Asking Anya Morozov to dance with you isbold. Even speaking to the girl is brave, in-laws or not.
“My dad’s going to lose his shit,” Ivan whispers, but there’s a glint of hope in his eyes as he watches this unfold.
Anya worries her bottom lip, and turns to her father. She looks almost hopeful, too.
“Jade told us all that Anya doesn’t touch men,” I say quietly, even though Ivan is well aware. “He handcuffed himself and all but told your father to point a gun at him so your sister can dance at this wedding. Matteo is going to let their only point of contact be her touching him while his life is quite literally on the line. Your father won’t lose his shit.”
“Matteo is too nice for his own good,” Ivan mumbles. “If he were anyone else, he’d be on the ground already.”
