Page 41 of The Arrangement

“Missed you, too.”

The moment Anton’s gaze met his mother’s form coming over to greet him, he released Viviana’s shoulders. She looked away as he embraced his mother in the suddenly quiet waiting room, knowing they probably needed that moment together. It was only when his hands came in contact with her body again that Viviana felt it was okay to speak again.

“I didn’t realize he was …” Emotions lodged in her throat. “I’m sorry about Daniil.”

There was the briefest flicker of wetness shining in bright blue eyes before the man above her blinked it away. “He’s got a little while left. Already planned his own funeral, sad as that is. We don’t talk much about it because it makes him angry. I just assumed you would have figured out how bad it was on your own, but I suppose I should have sat you down and really explained it.”

Viviana didn’t have a clue what to say.

Looking around, she was quick to notice the many men who suddenly swamped the waiting room. They all chatted in English and Russian, their voices far too low for her to really catch onto anything they were saying, not that she would have understood their mother tongue. A few had gathered close to Sasha, one with an arm wrapping her trembling shoulders tenderly, and she nodded in response to whatever the men were saying. Even still, Viviana couldn’t help but feel awkward under some of their scrutinizing gazes as they, too, watched her.

The following day was Anton’s birthday. It would have been the first time she was properly introduced into their very private society at the party they were throwing for him at his club. There was no doubt in her mind that they were all too aware of just who exactly she was, and all the trouble she could be very well causing them, so it only served to make Viviana that much more uncomfortable.

“What’s wrong?”

“There’s a lot of Bratva here,” she mumbled, feeling silly. Zoning in on a loose thread, she picked at the fabric, avoiding Anton. “They’re all looking at me.”

“Of course they’re looking at you. You’re beautiful, and they’re probably wondering where your engagement ring is.”

Viviana choked back her laughter. Yes, with teary eyes, a sweater and jeans, and hair that had just been tossed back into a loose ponytail before the ambulance arrived. Sure, beautiful. The engagement ring was a whole other matter altogether that he wouldn’t even talk about, for some reason.

“Come on, Anton.”

“I’m serious. Some of these men haven’t seen you since you were a drooling two year old. Imagine how big of a surprise it is for them to see you all grown up, and with me no less.”

Now, Viviana was wondering just how many of them had been a part of the agreement and which men in the room he was talking about exactly. “Really, who?”

“Never mind that. They wouldn’t talk about it anyway. Business, baby.”

With a disgruntled hum, Viviana found her knees being drawn away from her chest under his urging. In Anton’s strong hold, she was picked up as if she didn’t weigh anything more than a feather before he rested back down in the seat with her curled up in his lap. An arm curved around her shoulders, his hand stopping to rest on the pulse in her neck.

For a single moment, she stilled in Anton’s hold, listening to the quiet rise and fall of his chest and the beat of his heart. Without a doubt, she knew that beating organ was breaking. Strong and stony on the outside, but shattering to pieces on the inside.

“I don’t want to lose my father,” he whispered. The words were so grief-stricken and heavy in her ear that Viviana shivered under the weight. “I don’t know what I’d do. First it was Nicoli, now Dad … Fuck, you think I’d be used to death by now, given everything.”

“It’s not the same kind of death. But when it is, and it’s someone else’s grief, don’t you feel guilty?”

That hold on her shoulders tightened. “You shouldn’t ask me—”

“I should,” Viviana interjected, keeping her tone quiet and calm. “I want to know.”

She felt his mouth press to the side of her temple as his lips parted and he exhaled heavily. “Ever since my first, yes. I always feel guilt for their grief, even if it was deserved. I was taught to respect the life I took, no matter what it owed. At some point that life was worth no more or less than mine.”

Viviana decided she loved him even more because of that. There had been no respect shown to her father, mother, or brother. There had been none for her when she was made to hold Sonny’s hand at her father’s funeral, probably the same hand that was used to hold the gun and pulled the trigger to end Roman’s life. It made her weak and unsure, taught her that even blood didn’t hold a flame to greed. Her learned respect was created from nothing more than fear. She didn’t want to be that girl anymore, and she sure as hell knew she wasn’t, but it had taken a lot to get there, starting with Anton.

“I didn’t want to lose mine, either,” she heard herself admitting. Reaching down to find his hand holding her knee tightly, she uncurled the fingers and weaved them with hers. Viviana allowed them both a moment to breathe before she spoke again. “I didn’t want to be scared; I was so tired of crying. It won’t matter if I’m thirty or eighty, it’ll never really go away. It’s always going to hurt.”

Viviana swore she felt wetness smear from his cheek to hers, but she didn’t acknowledge his tears. It was more than likely he wouldn’t want her to anyway. His grasp on her leg released just long enough to rub his face.

Anton cleared his throat, voice turning hoarse when he said, “So, on Sunday …”

“What about it?”

“There’s a baker that’s always made the cakes for our family whenever we had special occasions. He’s opened up his shop to us personally for that day. If you want to go with me at noon, we’ll have one more thing crossed off your list.”

“I can do that,” she agreed, settling back into his hold with a sigh. “So I guess there won’t be a party tomorrow, huh?”

“Oh, there’ll be a party, and we’ll still have to go. Actually, it’ll give them a chance to celebrate my father in one way or another, too. All the more reason to drink good vodka. Like they need an excuse to drink.”