Page 75 of Brutal Vows

“She exists. Gabi has no reason to make her up.”

“Unless we’re being fucking played. I mean, look what happened today.”

Fuck it. He’s right.

“Gabi got shot, almost fatally. Nobody plays that fucking hard for someone else.”

“And yet, Mara did, dying on this mission.” He looks away, and then pins me with a gaze that sends chills down my spine. “You would have done it, if the old Don asked you.”

Images of our dad flash through my mind. The power he had over us. I don’t want to process Benedict’s statement. I can only thank the universe for never putting me on a road where I had to cross that bridge, offering my life so Steph could survive. There are only two reasons someone would sacrifice their life for another person. She was protecting someone she loved more than herself, or⁠—

“Mara knew she was going to die, and she’d rather take a bullet than let nature take its course.” Jesus. I can’t get my head around this. “We might want to get someone in to do an autopsy. See if she had another reason to hold life so cheap.”

We stare at each other, at a crossroads, neither of us having a clue which way to go, or if we’ll get back to this starting point if we lose our way.

“If Chiara’s face is being used to make deep-fake porn, there’s a reason,” I say. “Keep digging. Go deeper and figure out what the hell is going on. Figure out who the real Chiara Bellini is.”

I leave my brother slumped in his chair, relieved that this parcel has somehow been passed to him and not to me. I have enough on my plate.

35

MILANA

When I stumble out into the living area, I’m shocked at how light it is. I’ve slept like the dead.

“Good grief, Luca, what time is it?”

He’s at the kitchen island, nursing a coffee, looking as if he hasn’t slept at all. His hair is all mussed up and he is still in last night’s rumpled clothes. As his gaze wanders down my body, I’m glowing inside as I recall the side quests we went on last night whenever I wasn’t pouring my heart out to him. Now he sits on my secret, and he hasn’t made me any promises of Russia in return.

I trusted him too far. If he doesn’t help me, it’s over.

“Morning, princess,” he says softly. “It’s only nine. You slept so well. Coffee?”

“My phone?”

“On the sofa, exactly where you left it.”

I rush over, conscious I’m only in my panties—which I found conveniently on the nightstand—and the cashmere sweater I wore last night. It was so quiet in the house, I didn’t think Luca was here.

I scan my phone, needy for updates from Masha. There’s nothing. This situation with Varya is eating at me.

“Come sit,” he says from the kitchen. “We have to talk.”

I nod and return to the kitchen just as I am, since there isn’t anything he hasn’t seen before. In fact, it looks like he rather likes me like this.

“Did you sleep?” I ask, taking in the dark circles under his eyes, the few faint wrinkles at his eyes more prominent today, the sexy stubble on his jaw.

“A little. On the couch. I’ve come up with a plan.”

My heart does a flip.

“Russia?” I ask, settling on a barstool. “You’ll let me go?”

“Not so fast, princess. First, answer me this: Ivan made Matteo vow that you would never set foot in Russia again. It’s basically part of the wedding contract. If we go, neither of them can know.” He pauses, studies me. “Why is Ivan so adamant you can’t go back to Russia, since he doesn’t know about the baby?”

“Baby or no baby, Chertnikov still wants the Petrov Bratva. The same reason why I kept Annushka a secret. Chertnikov is a cold-blooded psycho. He—” I break off and swallow. “The coup was just the start. I’m not sure what Chertnikov’s masterplan entails, but my gut tells me it’s to move weapons around.”

“Weapons? To Russia?”