“Arranged marriages never work, even if one party is in love with the other.” Dimitri has already said as much to Nico, who completely ignored the advice. He told Chiara and me the story of his own arranged marriage, but failed to mention that he’d actually cared for his wife.
But is he also insinuating that Frankie is in love with Chiara? That would explain the emotions I see playing over his face. Frankie takes a deep breath, and says, “I didn’t know.” Then his expression becomes empty, as if he’s trying to mask his pain.
“Your lineage is already tied to the Morettis, through your oldest daughter. Imagine, for one moment, if you also had ties to the Ivanovich family. Historically, alliances between families were often arranged through marriage. You are lucky enough to have a love match between your daughter and Ivan Ivanovich’s son. Anatoli is here, in an apparent show of Ivanovich support for the union.”
I glance over at my brother, who is close enough to hear what is happening at the other table. He nods at me, but remains silent.
Dimitri continues his speech as the waitress brings his wine, and pours it. He does not drink it, just as I suspected. “Either way, there is no going back. Chiara and Misha will not fall out of love. A marriage between Chiara and Frankie now will only foster hate and regret, consuming both of their lives.”
“My proposal is officially rescinded. I will not marry a woman who loves another,” Frankie spits out. “You can have the Rossi women. They are useless to me anyway. There will be no repercussions from the incident earlier. You were defending yourself. When you leave my city, there will be no more hostilities between the Morettis and the Federovs. But if you stay, I will hunt you down and bury you and your men.” He throws several bills down on the table, and storms out of the room. His soldiers leave the room when he does, I count about ten.
Nico continues to stare at Dimitri, as if he wants to rip his head off. His anger bleeds over into his voice. “I won’t let you get away with this. You will pay for stealing my daughters.”
“You pushed Chiara away. You gave her your word, and you never intended to keep it. You have no honor,” I remind him.
Nico scoffs. “Honor? That means nothing when you have to do what’s best for your family.”
“Your family is now my family, and I protect what’s mine.” I try not to sound angry, because I’m not. I’m happy and hopeful for the future. I even smile as I say, “No matter what tries to come between us, Chiara is mine and will be for the rest of my life.”
“The Ivanovich and Federov families are joined in favor of the union, and Moretti isn’t against it. You will stand alone if you fight them,” Dimitri points out.
Rossi becomes flustered, and throws back a glass of the expensive wine Frankie bought. But he doesn’t say anything else, he stands and marches off. One man follows him. I take the seat that Nico vacated, and pour myself a glass of wine. I take a sip, and nod. “It’s good. Have a glass.”
Dimitri rolls his eyes. “I just avoided a war, diplomatically I might add.” He decides to have a glass of wine with me. He raises the glass to toast. “I hope Chiara is worth all the trouble.”
I clink my glass to his. “So do I.”
“You owe me, Misha,” he states, firmly. There’s no mistaking what he means. He will ask for a favor that I will not be able to refuse.
I know he didn’t do all of this out of the goodness of his heart. Still, I hope I can at least marry the love of my life, and have a nice honeymoon, before he calls in his marker.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chiara
“How much money does Dimitri have?” Guilia asks, for what seems like the millionth time today.
We’re in the pool room, again. Beso has ordered room service, and we’re having lunch here. I don’t think Guilia has wanted to leave this room since we arrived two nights ago. I had to almost force her to shower and go to bed last night. The room Beso gave us has double beds, thankfully. I have no idea how many bedrooms Dimitri’s “suite” has, since it is the size of an entire floor in his hotel. I’m sure Guilia will ask, eventually.
“I already told you, I don’t know.” I shouldn’t be so irritable with my younger sister. She really doesn’t understand what’s going on. She doesn’t know that I haven’t heard from Misha since he was headed to meet with Frankie. She can’t comprehend that our father tried to barter us like chattel. And that’s really not a bad thing.
“Mr. Federov has millions and millions of dollars. He owns the hotel you’re staying in, Miss Guilia,” Beso answers her. His voice is calm, even though his thick accent is almost harsh. I’m so glad Misha doesn’t sound like that.
“Does Dimitri have a girlfriend?” Guilia mutters, as she sips her soda. Then she looks up at Beso, through her thick dark lashes. I know that she is only hoping for an answer to her question. Dimitri’s valet probably only sees a beautiful woman in front of him, gazing up at him with curiosity shining in her big blue eyes.
I finally clear my throat to get his attention, after he stares at her for several minutes.
“No, Miss Guilia. Dimitri is married.” He says it as he places a white rose in a tiny vase on the table between us, where he placed our food.
“Darn,” she exclaims, and begins to pick at her lunch with her fingers.
As if she was going to date Dimitri Federov, or anyone else for that matter. That will happen over my dead body. Although, if I had to pick a person to marry my little sister, she could do much worse than Dimitri, I admit as I look around his suite again. The glass walls are darkened, so the sun doesn’t bother our eyes. How does someone even afford that sort of thing?
“Use your silverware,” I chastise lightly.
“Ugh, you’re always so uptight,” she replies, but she picks up her fork and places her cloth napkin in her lap.
When everything is as Beso thinks it should be, he leaves the room. Guilia’s eyes follow him, watching the man in the dark suit walk away. “Do you think Beso is cute?” she asks, as she returns to picking at her salad with her fingers.
“Please stop,” I grumble. She looks at me with her sparkling eyes, so sweet and innocent, and I want to shake her. Stop being boy crazy! I want to exclaim. Instead, I say, “Use your fork, please.”
She chuckles, and picks up a bit of onion with her fingertips. “Doesn’t Beso know I don’t like onions?”
“I’m sure if you tell him, he’ll remember for next time,” I assure her.
I’m fairly certain he’ll hang on every word she says to him. It bothers me that she’s right, he is handsome. And he’s very attentive to her. I sigh loudly. If my sister has to get married, which seems more likely to happen with every passing day, I would hope it would be to a man like Dimitri, who has the money to take care of her. Not a valet. Guilia probably won’t be able to hold a job. She won’t be the bread winner in the family. And Beso is at least nine years older than her. What happens when he retires? Will she end up homeless, or penniless?
“Dimitri’s here,” Guilia exclaims, wide eyed. “And so is your boyfriend. What’s his name?”
I turn toward the living room, and smile brightly when I see him. He looks even better than I remembered, if that’s even possible. He’s wearing all black, like some kind of super spy. But the thing I can’t get over is the beard. He probably hasn’t shaved since I saw him last, which was two days ago. It’s been the longest two days of my life.
“Misha!” I cry out. Lunch, my sister, and everything else I’ve worried about over the last few days is forgotten when I find him striding confidently toward me.
“That’s his name,” Guilia says.
I stand up and practically run at him. His eyes grow wide, and that’s when I remember I’m wearing the hot pink bikini with nothing over it. I don’t care. I leap into his arms, and he catches me and spins me around.
“Misha, I-“ I begin. But he interrupts me when his lips meet mine. He has me held so tight against his big body, his arms wrapped around my lower back and
his hands on my waist. He feels so damn good. I thrust my fingers into his hair, and my tongue past his lips. I want him inside me, right now.
I hear someone clear their throat, and Misha stops suddenly. “Sir, there’s a room right this way.” It’s Beso’s calm, unfaltering voice.
Misha stops kissing me, but doesn’t let me go. I don’t think anything will come between us for a very long time. “Show me the way,” he says, right against my cheek. His new beard is thick, scratchy, and oh so manly.
“Misha!” I counter, but I don’t have an argument as to why we shouldn’t catch up alone, and immediately.
“I’ll keep an eye on Miss Guilia,” Beso assures me, with a barely contained chuckle.
I’m sure he will.
Beso shows us to a room, and Misha tosses me onto the bed. His eyes are again as wide as saucers, as he stares at me with just the tiny triangles of fabric covering my curves. He’s looking at me like he did the first night we spent together, like he is the wolf from the tattoo on his torso.
“I’ve only been away from you for two nights, and I feel like it’s been forever. Damn, I want you,” he murmurs, as he continues to stare at me. It’s as if he’s not quite sure what he wants to do. Does he want to take in my nearly naked body? Does he want to undress and join me? Or does he want to remain clothed, and jump into bed so he can undress both of us?
The power that I feel as he gazes at me makes me giddy. The thought that this man, this strong, commanding, stunning man wants me, no needs me, so much that he was willing to go to war for me is thrilling and a little scary. But I like it. I like it a lot.
I bend my right knee, and begin to play with the string that is holding my bikini top in place. “Are you just going to stand there and look at me, Misha?” I give him a smile, and hear his sharp intake of breath. I’ve grown to love that sound, as if he’s being tortured by his need for me. “Come here and make all the fantasies I’ve had the last few nights come true.”
He clicks the lock on the door, but leaves the light on as he strips for me, slowly removing his shirt. His body is incredible, an intoxicating mixture of muscles, pale skin, and bright ink that I feel like was created only for me. I watch as he removes his boots, then his pants, and his cock practically jumps out of his boxer briefs as he slides them off. Quickly he pulls on a condom, even though we’ve already had unprotected sex once. But that was an accident, and I’m sure he’s doing it now out of habit. I’m glad.
It’s my turn to take a deep breath, as he stalks toward me. My insides begin to shake with anticipation.
“Tell me about your fantasies,” he mutters, as he lowers himself to the floor in front of me.
“Oh, God,” I whisper, because I think I know what he’s going to do. And when he places one of his rough palms on each of my knees, my outsides begin to shiver too. “I want you, Misha.” It’s so easy to say, and I know he likes it.
But he shakes his head, and as he does his lips brush against my shins. “Tell me what you want, Chiara.” His hands slide up my thighs, and they part on their own. My hips flex, too, and my stomach tightens. He smiles, enjoying the effect he has on me. “Damn, you’re beautiful, my treasure. Tell me what you want, so I can give it to you.”
“I want your lips, and your hands, on my body,” I whisper, as I sit up to grab hold of his hair and pull him closer.
“My hands are too dirty, and you are too pure.” He says it, but his hands have already reached the bottom of the bathing suit, and his fingers tug at the bows at my hips that hold it together.
“I like your hands, and what they do to me.” I can’t believe I got the words out.
I lean forward and kiss him, and his fingers find my core, wet and welcoming for him. I spread my legs, and he moves up onto the bed. Suddenly he’s on top of me, and inside me. His hands easily push the top aside, and his calloused palms cup my breasts.
I love you rings through my head, as he’s kissing me, making love to me, owning me. I’m already his, and he knows it. I am his princess, his treasure, and he is my protector, my guardian, my knight in shining armor.
“Come for me, Chiara,” he whispers against my ear.
My entire body quakes in response. And when I feel my orgasm erupt inside me, I gaze into his eyes and tell him, “I love you Misha.”
He smiles brightly. “I love you, treasure. Forever.”
Chapter Thirty
Chiara
We hear a knock on the door. I giggle and glance up at him as I bury myself under the covers of the bed. But Misha groans, and calls out, “What!”
“Dinner is at seven thirty,” Beso replies, through the door.
I close my eyes, and frown, as I throw my head back onto the pillow. I’d been resting my cheek on his pecs. Down is much softer but not as comfortable as his skin. “I have no clothes in this room, and all you sent me here with were school clothes. I have nothing to wear for dinner.”
Misha tries not to laugh at me. “And somehow, when I entered the suite, you were wearing a bathing suit.” He grumbles, and rolls over to face me. He looks like he’s trying to be stern, and with the blond stubble on his cheeks I’m sure he could be rather intimidating. But, I know he’s just a soft, cuddly teddy bear on the inside. “A sexy, hot pink bikini, bathing suit,” he says between fake leers and stolen kisses. “How did you even get a bikini in a hotel?”
“Beso,” I answer, as I move my head to the side to allow him to trail his soft, warm lips over the sensitive skin of my neck.
“Who the fuck is Beso, and why is he bringing you sexy bikinis?” he growls. I look up into his eyes, and find them filled with jealousy. I like it. I want him to be possessive, jealous, and all the other things that I always thought were cave man-ish.
“Beso is Dimitri’s valet.” I say it to make it sound even more pretentious than it usually would. “And don’t worry, he’s like every other man.” I shrug my shoulders, and he decides at that moment to sink his teeth into the delicate skin there. I cry out, “Owww!” and try to pull away.
“That’s what I’m worried about, that he’s like other men,” he chastises.
I scoff loudly, even though I’m enjoying his emotional outburst. “Meaning, when one of my sisters is in the room, I might as well be invisible.” I try to sound all pouty, to get sympathy.
He simply chuckles, the sound reverberating against my ear and causing goose bumps to appear. “I guess it would serve Nico Rossi right to have two daughters married to Russians.”
I groan, loudly, and counter, “If I don’t neuter him. And you,” I add, before I quickly slide off the bed and head straight to the shower in the attached bathroom.
*****
We’re sitting around the dinner table. All of us, except for Beso, who is hovering so close to my sister’s chair he might start cutting her steak for her. I’ve sent him several dirty looks, but he’s ignored them all.
“What happens now?” I ask, trying to take my mind off Beso’s shameless flirting.
Oh, God, he’s actually cutting her steak! She glances up at him, giving him her brightest smile. “Thank you, Beso,” she says sweetly.
“You’re welcome, Miss Guilia,” he replies, before he moves away. But that’s just to grab a bottle of her favorite soda to refill her glass.
I grab my knife, but Misha takes my hand and shakes his head. Gently, he answers, “Now, we’re free to do whatever we want. Let’s get married before you have to go back to work.”
My eyes grow wide at the thought. Could we, really, just do it? Run off and elope, then return to our lives like nothing had changed?
And what about Guilia? My gaze strays to my beautiful, sweet sister, and then to the man who is obviously infatuated with her.
“Guilia is under my protection, and will remain there until you feel it is safe for her to return to New York,” Dimitri informs me, with his thick accent and his rough voice.
“No, that is not…” I begin.
“Dimitri is married, so you do
n’t have to worry about him liking me, Chi,” Guilia argues. Just the simple fact that she believes that proves to me that she must be protected.
“I will not let anyone touch your sister,” he says, but his eyes are on Beso. “You have my word.” When he speaks, his valet’s dark eyes fall to the floor, and he silently moves away.
“I want to stay! I love it here. I love my room, and the pool. But most of all, I like Beso bringing me whatever I ask for.” No one sitting around the table is surprised at what she says.
“I will change his assignment, if you would feel more comfortable,” Dimitri offers.
Guilia sits her fork on her plate, and speaks softly. “I know you don’t want me to have a boyfriend, but I’m an adult and I can make my own decisions. I will decide when I become a woman, and no one else.” With that she stands up, and walks off.
Has the whole world simply turned on its ear? Isn’t that the same logic I used when I decided to seduce Mikhail Ivanovich? She can’t use my own arguments against me, can she? Am I actually thinking of leaving her here, in Dimitri’s hotel, with two hot Russian men?
“Only for a few days,” I blurt out. “Only until we’re married, and we return to the city.”
Misha grins at me, and exclaims, “Let’s do it.”
I sigh loudly. The good girl in me, the one who has done everything for her family says no. I should share my wedding day with my parents and grandparents. At least with my sister.
No. This should be just me and Misha, because we will start our lives alone. This is just one more thrilling experience that I can share with him. This is a first that we can have together.
“You’ve never been married, have you?” I ask, because I realize as I look at him that there’s still so much I don’t know about him.
“You’ll be the first,” he answers me with a shy grin.
“At least I can be your first something.” I start out speaking firmly, because it hurts a little that we couldn’t share losing our virginity together. But as I think about what I’m saying, my voice gets quieter. Maybe I shouldn’t be saying that in front of Dimitri.
War (Bratva and Mafia Chronicles Book 1) Page 17