Page 19 of Dance of Defiance
But here’s where it gets extra spicy: until a few months ago, the Lukashov family was eying someone other than me to marry Dasha:Vaughn Bancroft.
At the time, he was the Obsidian Syndicate’s number two, second only to the previous Marquis, who I’m sure also realized that a Dasha was an expressway into Cosimo’s good graces.
But then said preceding Marquis, a man named Étienne Veyrac, was…removedfrom power. And it’s beenheavilyimplied that this change in leadership was entirely put into play by Vaughn himself.
At that point, the Lukashov family pulled back and announced they’d be looking elsewhere when it came to a husband for their dear Dasha.
That’s when my father set things up with me, and it’s one thousand percent why Vaughn invited Cosimo to his mountain retreat for dinner last night.
There are criminal empires, and then there arecriminal fucking empires. Families like mine, or Bane’s, or the Barone, Drakos or Kildare families are powerful in their own right.
But there’s another level to this game that even huge empires like ours don’t come close to touching: dynastic seats of power that have been around forcenturies. The d’Auvrelles of France. The Torvallés family in Spain. The founding families of the Italian Camorra.
That’s the prize here: get in Cosimo’s good graces, and doors that don’t open foranyonemagically unlock for you.
“Cosimo attended Vaughn’s little soiree last night,” Stepan growls, “because he’s a man who enjoys parties and being the center of attention.” He shakes his head. “It takes more than flattery and fawning to get into the good graces of the Sangrini family. Vaughn should know that.”
“I think hedoesknow that,” I mutter. “He invited him anyway. That says something.”
My father scowls as he slowly shakes his head. “Vaughn is a formidable opponent. Thank God his brother's a fucking queer.”
My attention snaps to him as I blink rapidly. “What?”
“Vaughn’s brother,” my father shrugs. “You know, the little pansy who dances with your sister.”
For some reason, my brow starts furrowing and my jaw tenses. The black, venomous snake coils in my stomach as I swallow the lump in my throat.
“Vaughn on his own is bad enough,” my father scoffs. “Imagine if his brother was a real man.”
For a second, I’m frozen in place as I stare at my father.
A real man.
Instantly, my mind flashes back to Vaughn's party two nights ago. To the sensation of being utterly and completely pinned down. Of having my control and my strength taken away from me. Of feeling totally immobilized by the sheer power in those muscled arms and big, veined hands…
“We should push Lukashov to accelerate the wedding plans,” Papa growls, his attention swiveling to Stepan. “Set up a meeting.”
“Da,pakhan.” Stepan nods curtly back, pulling out his phone and tapping quickly on the screen.
My father clears his throat as he turns back to me. “I know you don’t want this marriage, Roman.”
I don't say anything.
“I know you’d rather be out and about like you were last night, with pretty girls you meet at bars warming your bed. But this marriage…” He shakes his head. “This is what kings do, my son.”
I nod stiffly. “Of course, Papa.”
He grins. “Plus, it’s not like I’m marrying you off to some troll, eh?” He shakes his head and chuckles. “Thetitson that girl…”
Bane’s right: I’ve never really been a boob guy. Butfuck me, where my future wife is concerned, everyone else seems to be.
“Roman!”
Behind the frosted shower door, Evie shrieks as I flush the toilet in her ensuite bathroom.
“Such a dick!”
I chuckle deeply before calmly filling the water glass at the sink with cold water. Then I proceed to dump it over the top of the shower stall onto my sister, who immediately squeals again.
