“Thank you.” It’s a whisper.
When they dismiss me, I walk on numb legs out of the office building and stand on the sidewalk in the sunshine.
My God, how will I tell him?
Chapter 1
~Rafe~
Present Day
“They met with him?” I demand. I shove my hands into the pockets of my tux and work at keeping my face expressionless.
We’re at a wedding, for Christ’s sake.
“Pop confirmed it last night,” Carmine says, rocking back on his heels. “I meant to pull you both in and tell you, but things got crazy.”
“It was the night before your wedding,” Shane reminds him. “Of course, it’s crazy. What in the hell were they thinking, going in there alone? They’re too old for that shit.”
I share a look with my brothers, and then we all chuckle.
“They may be older,” I reply, speaking of our father and Carmine’s new father-in-law, Igor Tarenkov, both bosses of two of the strongest crime families in the world, “but they’re not weak. They’re also smart. If they went in to talk to those in Carlito’s office without us, they knew what they were doing.”
“Yeah, well,” Carmine says, “I wish they’d let us in on it.”
“This isn’t the time or place,” Shane says and claps a hand on our eldest brother’s shoulder. “We’re here to celebrate. Go dance with your bride. I’m going to find my smokin’ hot fiancée and take her for a spin around the dance floor myself. Did you see how hot she looks today?”
Carmine and I smile as Shane hurries off to find Ivie.
“She’s good for him,” I say, watching as our brother takes Ivie’s hand, kisses it, and then pulls her onto the dance floor. “She makes him happy.”
“She does.” Carmine nods and then glances to our left, motioning with his head. “She seems to frustrate you.”
I follow his gaze and sigh when my eyes land on Annika. My gut churns, the way it always does whenever I see the woman I’ve loved for almost a decade.
“She does more than that,” I murmur and sip my champagne. “I want to kiss the fuck out of her and take her over my damn knee.”
Carmine laughs and taps his glass to mine. “That’s a woman for you. I think I’ll follow our brother’s lead and go find my wife.”
His grin flashes over his face.
“My wife.”
“You went and chained yourself to a dame for the rest of your life.”
“Hell, yes. And I’d do it again in a heartbeat if it meant I could marry Nadia all over again.”
“I guess you’re allowed to be sappy on your wedding day. Go find your bride and dance inappropriately for a while.”
“My pleasure.”
Carmine saunters across the room, his eyes set on Nadia. She’s a beautiful bride, and her eyes light up when she turns to see Carmine approaching.
They’re both a couple of saps.
I guess I would be, too. I turn to look at Annika once more and sigh. She’s as stunning as ever, with her long, blond hair falling around her in loose curls. Her makeup is flawless and more glammed-up for the occasion. The dress she’s in showcases every curve to perfection, and my fingers ache with my desire to touch her.
Hell, it’s not just my fingers that ache.
I’ve become accustomed to admiring her from afar. Keeping my distance.
Giving her space.
But my patience is running thin.
Her piece-of-shit husband has been dead for months. Nothing’s standing in our way now.
Nothing except her stubbornness.
I set my empty glass on a tray and walk to where Annika is sitting, alone. She’s holding an envelope, and I watch as she tears it open, quickly pages through the contents, and then runs a shaking hand through that silky hair.
I’m not at all ashamed that I look over her shoulder.
I almost wish I hadn’t.
The image in her hands has my blood running cold.
“What the fuck is that?”
She jumps, puts the photo face-down on the table, and turns to me. “Oh, you startled me. It’s nothing.”
“I’ll put up with a lot of things from you, Annika, but lying isn’t one of them.” I lean down, leveling my gaze with hers. “What is that?”
She swallows hard, glances down, and shoves everything back into the envelope. “Not now. Not here. It’s Nadia’s special day, and I won’t ruin it with this. Especially not with this.”
She turns embarrassed eyes up to me.
“Annika.”
“Let’s dance.” She shoves the envelope into a bag under the table, takes my hand, and tries to pull me onto the dance floor.
But I outweigh her by at least a hundred pounds and stand my ground.
She looks up at me, sighs, then retrieves the envelope and leads me out of my grandmother’s ballroom and to a nearby empty room.
“I don’t want this to go anywhere but this room for today,” she says, her voice strong, her tone saying it isn’t open for discussion. “It’s my best friend—my cousin’s special day. Got it?”