Page 26 of Devil's Vows
I bethemakes you want to drop to your knees, ready to serve, doesn’t he just?
Chiara’s voice chimes in my head out of nowhere, and I trip at the shock of it, almost stumbling right into him. A hand shoots out, steadying me.
Petrov’s hand. On my arm. Warm and firm, setting alight a buzz that travels through my veins.
I look up, right into his blue eyes, needing to catch my breath.
“You okay?” he asks.
“Yes. Thank you.”
He lets go of me, and I step away, then slightly forward again to hold out my hand to him. “I’m Gabriella Scalera. I used to work in a kindergarten in Italy.”
Petrov doesn’t smile as he takes my hand, engulfing it in his for a firm squeeze that seems to spread a soft glow over my skin.
“Ivan Petrov. Your English doesn’t seem rustic at all. Any chance you know some Russian?” he asks, a slight tease in his voice.
“No,” I lie, cursing a littlefuckin my head. Not even a minute in, and the good Catholic convent girl in me is starting to evaporate.
“Irisha and Katya will teach you,” he says.
Best I prove to be a slow learner.
“You’re good to go?” he asks then.
Wait…what? This was just supposed to be recon. I shoot Matteo and Dominic each a glance, my pulse ratcheting up again.
This wasn’t the plan. The plan was to spend a few days in New York, and we haven’t even gone to our hotel yet, only hopping over from Boston with the jet this morning. My things are in the car, since we came here directly, but?—
“I spoke to your brothers, and they’re happy for you to come home with us today. Now.”
Petrov’s tone is so final, I’m left gaping for words.
Fear bubbles up in me, and I’m gripped by uncertainty. I’ll never know what was said about me between these three, howPetrov negotiated this while I was engaging with the girls for all of one minute.
But this is the out I was begging for. Still, I look at Matteo and then at Dominic, seeking guidance. I’ve prepared myself for a meeting, not forthis.
Matteo nods. Dominic grinds his jaw, not saying yes, not saying no. He is pissed…and I’m cornered.
“Yes, sir,” I say, having no another response. “If we can just get my things from the car?”
“Sure.” Petrov nods at the man on the bench, and he stands, stretching languidly as if nothing untoward just went down. “Irisha, Katya, poydyom, my ukhodym.”
We’re going.
No. This wasn’t supposed to happen. What I wanted is being handed to me on a platter. But this man—I hardly know him, bar his résumé Benedict and Luca slapped together from what they could find on the dark web and wherever else they go when they start to dig. His business dealings and his family’s weapons and rare earth minerals smuggling doesn’t interest me. All I want to know is if he’s safe. Will I, as a woman, besafewith him? In his house…alone?
His girls are with him, Irisha already holding his hand. Petrov scoops Katya into his arms and scoots her up until she’s comfortable. As she curls her small hand around his neck, squeezing her cheek against his, my heart heaves. There’s been no rehearsal for this. It’s all natural. And no man with daughters like these who clearly love him could bebad…could he?
Rule number three to survive in my world, as dictated by Mother Lucia: if a haven is offered, take it, because that is God looking after you.
Petrov’s household is my haven. The man might not be safe for me, but at least my brothers and their families will be rid of me and stay unscathed.
Dominic has me by the elbow, leading me a few steps to the side.
“It’s going to be fine,cara,” he says softly in Italian. “We’re tracking you. We’ll watch over you, I promise.”
Matteo closes in on us, his eyes dark in checked anger, deep lines cupping his mouth. Something went down, and I don’t know what.
