“Look,” I press on. “I see the agitated looks on your brigadiers’ faces. Iknowthat you didn’t marry me out of the goodness of your heart. I can read between the lines. You’re going up against Felix Cardona, aren’t you?
“That’s why your brigadiers look worried. They know it’s not a fight against Cardona. It’s a fight with the NYPD, with Cardona calling the shots.”
I tense while preparing for his verbal assault. Words sharpened like daggers are sure to fly across the table and ruin our perfectly peaceful morning.
My gut aches. Well,almostpeaceful.
“Go on.”
“And whatever your problem is, that guy at the wedding is going to be the key to it,” I finish.
“Kiril?”
“Yes,” I reply. “The man whose stars you took.”
A mysterious look plays on his face.I’m getting through!
“Why do you believe that?” he finally asks.
“Because who would be dumb enough to object to hisboss’swedding?” I ask back.
Pavel’s face breaks into a smile, and then he laughs—a deep laugh straight from his belly. I’m confused. Is he taking me seriously or not?
Finally, he calms down and says, “Very good, Liya. Very observant. Perhaps I’ve underestimated you.”
His praise surprises me. I clamp my mouth shut and take a deep breath. “I need to know more about what happened. Tell me more about Kiril.”
“What do you need to know?”
“Why would he object to you marrying me?”
Disappointment sours his amused expression. He shrugs and explains, “Because I was supposed to marry his daughter, Zoya.”
My heart quivers.Of all the things he could’ve said…“You were already engaged?” I ask, trying to hide the tremor in my voice.
“Not technically. Zoya likes to believe so, but I agreed to no such thing.”
“So, was it like a promise or something?”
“Only my father’s word.” He reclines in his chair while folding his hands in his lap. “He assured Kiril Vladimirovich that it would happen. But nothing was written down. Only the words of two old men.”
Realization dawns on me. “Oh, that’s why he said what he said.”
I scratch my shoulder, trying to avoid the flesh still tender from being stabbed with a needle.
Something still isn’t adding up. “Why didn’t you just marry her?”
“A Pakhan does not marry down,” he says. “It would have been seen as favoring one brigadier over another.”
“You’re kidding.”
Frosted green pools flash with irritation. “Wouldyouhave taken it?”
“Well, of course.” I shrug. “To you, it’s marrying down, but that’s not what it’ll look like to your men.”
Warmth sifts into his features, softening those sharp angles. He actually looks a lot more handsome when he’s smiling out of amusement instead of malice.
Somuch more handsome. Kissable, even.