Page 129 of Brutal Vows

The poor guy is going to take all the flack for being in on this quest and keeping it to himself.

Stephano lets Matteo and Dominic in, and I shoot them my naughty-shit smile. “Good seeing you, Matty, Nicky.”

“What’s up?” Matteo asks, taking in me and Steph, our faces squeezed together on the screen. “Jesus. What happened to your face? There. On the right side. Did Steph beat you up? The asshole! Missed you that much he couldn’t keep his hands off you?”

Steph chuckles.

I smirk. “Not exactly.” I blow out a breath. Here goes nothing. “Before we let Ivan in on this meeting, you need to know Milana and I went to Russia.”

“What the f—” Dominic blurts out.

“To fetch her baby,” I say, before either of them can say any more. “It’s a little girl. Zoe.”

The look on Matteo’s face turns sour, a string of conflicting emotions playing out at speed.

“What the actual?” Color seeps from his face as it dawns on him that I sold him a lie. “Her baby? Is she safe? Are you safe? And Milana?”

“Evidently,” I answer him, my good hand splayed on my chest, indicating I’m still in one piece. “We’re all good.”

Matteo jumps up, hands in his hair, and disappears from the screen. Every now and then, he reappears into the picture as he paces his study. I heave out a quiet sigh.

“Let me make sure I understand correctly.” It’s just his voice, then he appears as he paces past the camera. “You took Milana to fucking Russia?”

Yep, bro is going to need some time to digest this.

Then he’s there, his face so close to the screen, I rear back. “To. Fetch. Her. Baby,” he spells out. “Not yours. From some random dead woman you fabricated in New Brunswick?”

“Yep.” At least Matteo is sharp this time of the morning. “We’re back in Italy now. I got banged up a bit during our mission.”

Jesus, watching him pace makes me very glad I’m not there in person.

“And you’re all safe?” he asks again.

I feel for him. He always expects the worse.

“Yes, every⁠—"

“What do you mean by banged up?” Dominic cuts in, his gaze fixed on my cheek where the repercussions of the Russian’s slap are taking on a yellow-green hue.

“Just a taste of your medicine, Nicky. Nothing I couldn’t handle.”

“Jesus Christ.” He shifts in his seat, mouth pulled into a grim line. “You’ve had someone look at you?”

“Yep. Steph arranged Don Trapani’s doctor. I saw him this morning.”

“Steph was in on this?” Matteo barks into the screen.

“So was I.” Benedict sighs, raising a hand. “Do not, I repeat, do not come to my bunker and crap me out. You’ve been barred already.”

“Fuck. You three all played us.” Matteo shakes his head, and Dominic just stares blankly into the screen, probably reliving some horror of me taking his medicine.

“I’m good, Nicky,” I say. “Steph and Ben helped with logistics. Everything went fine under the circumstances. Now, before you get more worked up, Ivan already knows. We just got off a call with him five minutes ago. Milana told him everything…so. All’s well that ends well.”

“This isn’t ending well.” Matteo has dropped back into his seat and sits there, cupping his hands to his mouth, looking through the screen with eyes that shoot bullets.

“Not for Chertnikov, no. For us, we need to get our act together, because shit is still unfolding and I’ve learned a few things in Russia,” I say. “And if we want this whole mess which started with you offing Randazzo to end well for our side, we’re going to have to be proactive here.”

“Where’s the baby?” Dominic asks, his voice tender, ignoring my whole spiel about Randazzo. “A little girl? Zoe? Your Zoe?”