Page 2 of The Arrangement

Anton straightened in his chair. “Uh, what?”

“Tomorrow night might be a better option, Boss. That’s all.”

“The bull stays outside of the building after checking the floors does he not? He’s yet to notice Viktor or you, so I fail to see—”

“Not tonight, Boss,” the Brigadier interrupted with a remorseful tone.

“Excuse me?”

“They showed up at the dorm together, you know…”

“Not really,” Anton snapped.

“Shit. Together, Boss. They were all over each other. He went in with her and hasn’t come out. Okay?”

Anton almost choked on his tongue. Oh, Viviana, no…

“Listen, we can go in now, but—”

A strangled growl stopped the man’s words up short. The Bratva prince didn’t want to hear it; he didn’t care. What was his was his, regardless of what came before the arrangement could be fulfilled. God knew he’d taken enough women to his bed for a random distraction over the last nine long years.

“In the morning. Do it then. Not a hair on her head is to be harmed or your blood will spill. Leave nothing behind.”

“And the bull, Boss?”

Anton felt no guilt when he repeated, “Leave nothing.”

Chapter One

A screech from Viviana’s left side caused the pounding in her temple to increase.

“Vine, shut that damned thing off, would you?” Sam’s husky voice reminded her of just who was in her bed and why she had yet to wake up. “You’ve hit the snooze a half a dozen times. Don’t you have a lecture?”

Grumbling, she rubbed at her eyes. Finally, she blinked enough to feel awake and smacked at the alarm until it stopped beeping. Tossing blankets off the bed, her feet hit the cold floor. She barely recognized the time flashing on the alarm, but what her bleary eyes could see was enough to tell she was running late.

Really, really late.

“Why didn’t you wake me up?” Viviana asked, scowling.

A tanned hand waved indifferently. Sam couldn’t even be bothered to open his eyes and look at her. Some bodyguard he was.

“Like today is any different from yesterday?”

“This lecture is important!”

Clothes that had been carelessly scattered the night before were plucked up in her hands. Too much vodka and an attractive man made Viviana a messy girl. Eventually, she located the dark black skinny jeans and ribbed tank she’d worn the night before. Sniffing the clothes, they smelled decent enough, so she pulled them on and kicked around more stuff to find sneakers.

The sound of a glock’s chamber being manually discharged stopped her heart for a split second. It brought back memories she’d buried deep in the depths of her mind. It was a sound she never wanted to hear again. The black jacket in her hands fell to the floor as she chanced a look over at the door, then to the window.

Instinct, that’s what her father would have called it, because it was in her blood and bones. It didn’t matter that she was a girl, and girls couldn’t ever join the Cosa Nostra, she knew a fucking gun. Viviana could hold one, shoot like any made man, but that was only because her father said she had to learn.

The Don’s child had to know how to shoot.

Dropping to all fours, she heard Sam laugh deeply.

“Chill, girl. I’m just checking the clip; my piece needs to be cleaned.”

“I hate guns.” Her voice was strained, anxiety eating away at her lungs that couldn’t seem to inhale. “Put it away.”