I'd gone to a Russian boarding school.
I'd only spoken Russian in the house.
I'd only been allowed to eat Russian food until I threw a knife at the wall on my sixteenth birthday.
I knew my adopted father loved me as best he could, but the longer I stayed in his home, the more he pushed me away. Probably because he slowly started to realize the danger in keeping me, the danger in knowing that the Russian mob always kept good on their promises, and that my father would one day ask for a favor in return.
I twirled in front of the mirror, lost in my thoughts.
Luca Nicolasi — now dead — the old boss of the Nicolasi family, he'd rescued me. Naturally, it happened after I'd been sent to kill him.
I'd been eighteen.
He'd laughed in my face, then offered me a different job, one I could really bite into.
Spy on my fathers. Both of them.
Get revenge.
And forget about the fact that I had chronic leukemia.
"You… " Luca pulled the knife from his thigh. "Clearly have a death wish."
"Why be afraid of death when you're already dying?" I shrugged and pulled out another knife.
"Ah…" He held up his hand. "Why indeed?"
My eyebrows rose. "Why aren't you trying to attack me?"
"Because…" He took a seat at the kitchen table. The house was dark except for the two of us; his men had no idea I'd even infiltrated. Luca tipped back a glass of wine and cleared his throat. "You only come to kill so you may feel."
"Bullshit." I held up my gun again.
"You want to feel alive… because your body is dying… you feel it every day when you wake up and are a little bit weaker, you see it in your father's eyes, and you know it's only a matter of time before your use to your real father is lost."
He had me there.
"Control..." Luca patted the chair next to him. "What you want is more control over how you live, yes?"
How could he see right through me? My father hadn't; nobody had. Maybe because I kept walls up so high even I couldn't see over them.
"I can help you."
"I don't need help."
"You reek of the desire to belong… of the desire to control your own destiny…" He chuckled. "Let me help you, and I'll make you a promise you can't turn down."
"Oh yeah?" I snorted. "What's that?"
"I'll save your life."
My heartbeat picked up. "There is no cure for cancer."
"No," Luca said with sadness in his voice. "But when the time comes, when you need out of the FBI's grasp, when you want away from your Russian father, I'll offer protection the only way I know how."
I lowered my gun. "How?"
"My name."
I burst out laughing. "If you think I'm going to marry you, you've got another thing coming."
"Not me." He licked his lips. "My son."
"Andi!" Trace shouted from the other side of the door. "It's time to get started! We need you downstairs — oh, and who do you want to walk you down the aisle? Tex is arguing it should be him. Frank says he's older and wiser. Nixon just punched Chase, and I don't think—"
"Coming!" I interrupted and shook my head.
I took one last look in the mirror and whispered, "Thanks, Luca." I might not be marrying his son, but I was marrying into the Abandonato crime family. Not even my father could touch me now.
Because next to the Campisis, I was officially marrying into mafia royalty.
I just wished Luca would have lived long enough so see it. To walk me down the aisle and pat my hand.
He'd always told me everything would work out.
It had.
It was.
But I missed him, desperately.
And I still didn't know where his son was — or why I was the only one who even knew about his existence.
"Take it to your grave," he'd whispered one night. "If something happens, you take it to your grave."
Well, something had happened.
"Love you, old man," I said at my reflection in the mirror. "Thank you."
CHAPTER FIVE
Sergio
"A TUX?" I SAID IT LIKE A SWEAR WORD because, well… it was white, and looked like something out of Saturday Night Fever.
Tex wrapped a muscled arm around me. "It's what the bride wants."
I stepped away from him and examined the giant white piece of ugly. "This? This is what she wants? Are we all wearing costumes?"
"Just you." Tex grinned.
I shot Tex a glare out of the corner of my eyes. "You're enjoying this way too much."
"I was going to bring popcorn, but Mo said no."
I could have sworn the eyesore of a tux was starting to glow. "Thank God for Mo."
"You don't get to thank God for my wife," Tex hissed, his eyebrows doing that thing again that made them look like they were going to shoot off his forehead and dive into his reddish brown hair.
I lifted my hands up in surrender. "Whatever. Are you going to watch me undress, or can I get a bit of privacy?"
He crossed his arms.
"You've got to be shitting me." I jerked my shirt off and tossed it at his face. "Do you really think I'm going to blow off the wedding?"