Page 99 of Dance of Defiance
Me:I’m sorry. You've gotten under my skin, and the attraction I feel for you fucks with my head. I’m new to all of this and have no idea what being a man who wants another man is supposed to feel like. I don’t know how to balance how I was raised with how you make me feel. Please forgive me and help me.
I mean, I don’t fuckingsend it.
Obviously.
But it feels good to type it out, even if I immediately delete it again.
“Rome?”
Evelina’s voice calls through my door as she knocks on it.
“It’s open.”
My sister comes in, looking gorgeous in the light pink she’s wearing.
“Your tie is crooked,” she frowns, walking over to me. She fusses with it for a bit, her brow furrowed, before she finally grins. “There. All handsome now.”
I smile wryly. Evie sighs.
“Well…” She gives me a weak smile. “They’re uh…here.”
“Time to escape out the window, then?”
She giggles as she grabs my arm and pulls me to my feet. “More like time to be charming for your future wife.”
“It’s disgusting.”
Bogdan Lukashov scowls, stuffing a huge piece of steak into his mouth and chewing viciously. He washes it down with a big gulp of vodka, then shakes his head and waves his fork across the table at my father.
“Disgusting, and a declaration of war. You’re sure it was Vaughn Bancroft?”
My father nods, his face dark. “Iam. But there’s no concrete evidence.” He shakes his head grimly. “And even if there was…”
“Going after him directly could sour things with Cosimo, yes,” Bogdan grunts. “I understand your predicament, my friend.”
You gotta love the naked honesty of Bratva politics.Nobodyis pretending that this marriage is about anything other than consolidating power and establishing a connection to Cosimo Sangrini, not even the father of the bride.
Speaking of…
I pull my attention away from my father to Dasha, sitting across the table from me. She looks stunning: a gorgeous yellow dress that fits her perfectly, contrasts well with her dark hair and blue eyes, and strikes a perfect balance between sexy and elegant.
Arrangements aside, you'd think it would give mesomekind of spark, knowing that this gorgeous woman is going to be my wife.
But it doesn’t.
At all.
“You could have died, Pavel!” Bogdan grunts around another huge bite of New York strip.
He almost did, too. Except luckily, my father and Nikolai Antonov, who were meeting at my father’s safe house to discuss the questionable gaming commissioner my father was looking to pressure for a casino license, had just stepped outside to smoke cigars when the firebomb went off. They both got singed pretty good from burning falling debris, but neither was hurt.
Dasha breaks the uncomfortable silence that follows. “So, Evelina…”
“Please, Evie is fine,” my sister says brightly, smiling across the table at my future bride.
“Your name is Evelina,” Papa growls, shooting my sister a stern look as he drinks from his glass.
Dasha just smiles. “Well,Evelina, how’s the Zakharova? Iadoreballet.”
