Have my men managed to sneak out of the trunk of the car without being caught?
“Waiting for what? To kill me?” I ask. I attempt to rise to my feet, but the Russian knocks me back down, slamming his fist into my stomach and sweeping his leg under mine.
“Don’t hurt him!” Aleksandra hurries down the stairs past one of the Russians, who is grumbling something under his breath.
Mikhail doesn’t so much as look over his shoulder at her. “You are supposed to be upstairs!”
“I love him!” Aleksandra hurries down the stairs, yanking herself free as another guard grabs her by the arm. “Let me go.”
She’s feisty and vibrant, a force to be reckoned with.
I try not to smile at her, the sight of her in a gorgeous wedding gown, her cheeks rosy, and a scowl on her face.
She’s beautiful.
And I intend to make her mine.
“You love this fool?” Mikhail raises an eyebrow and jabs his thumb at me like he can’t believe the spoken words.
I’m not sure she means them, either, but it’s clear she’s willing to say anything to get out of marrying Luka and moving to Russia.
I don’t blame her. I’d do the same.
“He’s the father of my children, which you already know,” Aleksandra says. She glances at the tall Russian thug who keeps grabbing her by the arm, attempting to silence her and put her in her place.
The girl doesn’t listen.
Fiery.
Fierce.
Exactly the woman I want to claim.
Mikhail’s expression is grim, and his nose twitches with a snarl. “You’d rather marry Italian scum and be disowned by the family than accept Luka’s hand?”
“She’s not moving to Russia,” I say. Whether she marries me or not isn’t the point. I’m not letting my children get on an airplane and move halfway across the world.
“There will be a wedding,” Mikhail says.
Before he can say anything further, I interrupt him. “Aleksandra will marry me.”
“What?” she says, glancing at me with wide, doe-like eyes.
“Yes, excuse me?” Mikhail tilts his head slightly as he ponders the idea. He glances at his little sister and back at me. “Are you expecting my blessing?”
“I’m hoping you won’t kill us.”
He chuckles like I’ve just made a joke, and he folds his arms across his chest. Mikhail strokes his long, thick beard as he considers my request.
“What might I get in return for you marrying my baby sister?” he asks.
It’s clear he wants something, but I’m not sure what that entails. I never did find out what Luka was getting out of the arrangement, other than a family and a new distant home.
I won’t give up any of my turf. If that’s what he’s hoping to conquer, we’ll sooner start a war between our families, again. But I’m trying to be civil, remain calm, and while I don’t appear to have the upper hand with my knees on the floor and my gaze staring up at Mikhail, my men must surely be upstairs by now rescuing my children.
I’m buying my men time.
And I would marry Aleksandra in a heartbeat.