“I swear to you, you won’t be in trouble. Just tell me. Had you met him before?”
I hesitate for a few moments, not completely buying his promise not to hurt me, but his unease is scaring me now.
I nod.
“When? How?”
“Why does it matter?”
“Did you fuck him?”
My face heats, and Paolo leans his head back and takes a breath. It shakes.
“Why would it matter? You obviously didn’t care if he did or didn’t, considering—”
“This is not about me. You’re right, I don’t care about you sleeping with other men. Have at it. But there are things you don’t know, and what you’ve done could get us both killed. Stayawayfrom him.”
Chills run over my spine, and despite how badly I don’t want to, I believe Paolo. I don’t know how good his acting skills are, but if he’s faking this, he deserves an Oscar.
“What don’t I know?”
“You’re Russian, Alexa. There’s about to be a war between the Russians and Italians, and you’re trying to get close to the don? Do you know what that’s going to look like to Settimo when he learns who you are and why we’re getting married? If he doesn’t kill you, your own people will. How do you think Mr. Petrov would respond to you sneaking off with his worst enemy?”
I give my head a shake and squint at Paolo. I’m so confused.
“Settimo already knows I’m Russian. He followed me to the bathroom to ask me about it.”
Paolo’s eyes widen. “What did he ask you exactly?”
I wrack my brain for his exact words. It’s fuzzy. “He wanted to make sure I wasn’t like a spy or something. He thought you might be using me for something because he said it was strange Leo would pick me to marry you. Because of the feud. He also thought it was a weird coincidence how we met.”
Paolo looks like he’s going to puke, and it only gets worse as I go on.
“But I cleared it up. I’m ninety-nine percent sure he doesn’t think I’m some spy or something.” I bite my lip. “I didn’t tell him why we’re getting married… Nikita told me not to. But if we’re about to go to war, is there really a reason you and Idoneed to get married?” Hope sparks when it clicks. Oh my God, I’m right.
“I mean, what kind of olive branch could I be if—”
“Shut up,” he snaps. He’s looking over my shoulder, I assume at Settimo.
“I’m just saying, clearly I’m not a great peace—”
Paolo grabs my face and jerks me toward him. He clashes his lips with mine, and I’m too shocked to fight it. Our bodies are stiff and our lips are hard as stone pressed against each other. It’s the most awkward kiss in the history of kisses.
Someone clears their throat behind me, and Paolo pulls away.
“Sorry to interrupt,” the familiar voice says. I spin and am face to face with the groom, himself. He’s far more terrifying up close.
“Hi,” he says, flashing me a smile. My eyes lock onto sharp canines until his smile falls. He holds out his hand to me, and I just stare at it.
Now I understand the kiss. Anything to shut me up.
“I’m Lorenzo, Paolo’s friend.” He nods at Paolo. I get the courage to shake Lorenzo’s hand, and he squeezes mine gently before letting go.
I don’t know what his intentions are, but he’s lying. He’s nowhere close to Paolo’s friend. “Well,” Lorenzo shrugs, seemingly reading my thoughts. “He’s really my brother’s friend, but I’d say he and I have always gotten along.” Lorenzo lifts his eyes. “Right Paolo?”
“Of course,” Paolo says. Another lie I’m guessing.
“I should clarify, though,” Lorenzo goes on. “He’s my brother, Anthony’s,friend. Not Settimo’s. Settimo is very choosy.”