The Arrangement (13 page)

Clearly the conversation wasn’t meant for her to hear, or at least she should pretend like she couldn’t. Viviana went back to scanning the items on the shelf. A kiss was placed to her cheek, bringing her attention to Anton who was back at her side. Covering the phone’s speaker with his hand, he shrugged apologetically.

“I’ll be right back. I have to take this somewhere private.”

“Sure,” she said, offering him a smile.

With one more kiss, Anton disappeared through the aisles of bath and body products. Viviana appraised the row of pillar candles as the store’s front door opened and closed once more.

Slipping down another aisle, she finally found products in the dozens for floral scents. Viviana always did have a thing for roses, so she picked up a bubble bath product with a rose petal design on the label and opened it up to smell. A flash of red hair in the corner of her eye made Viviana nearly drop the bottle.

With her head tucked down to stare at her phone, Cici Carducci stood five feet away from Viviana’s very spot. The youngest daughter of her Uncle Sonny, Cici hadn’t been especially close with Viviana or her older brother, but they had the same family. Not to mention the girl’s father was the same man who was probably planning at that very moment how he could put a bullet through Viviana’s brain and get away with it.

Viviana’s heart and lungs stopped working as she watched her first cousin type on her phone. They were too close to the safe house, she knew. It was maybe a fifteen-minute drive away. Why the girl was even in this part of Brooklyn, Viviana didn’t know, but it wouldn’t lead to anything good.

Cici could easily report back to Sonny about where she’d seen Viviana. The bratty little bitch that her cousin was known to be surely wouldn’t hide it from her father. God knew Sonny spoiled all of his daughters to the nines and back, but Cici had always seemed to be his favorite. How long would it take her uncle to find her after that?

Panic welled in Viviana’s gut like a poison.

Where the fuck was Anton?

As if her mind had suddenly shifted gears and started working again, Viviana stumbled backwards to go around into the other aisle and hide. Instead, she just ended up bumping into a shelf in her panic and knocking over a half a dozen bottles and soaps.

Shit
.

Sure enough, Cici glanced up at the commotion and straight into Viviana’s eyes.

“Vine …” Cici took a step forward, her hand holding the cell phone falling limply to her side. There was something all too nasty in the smile she leveled on Viviana. “Daddy said you were back.”

Viviana forced herself not to blink as she said, “Hey, Cici.”

“Where’s your Russian? Doesn’t he know it’s not smart for you to be out on your own?”

That was all the conformation Viviana needed for her to know Cici would tell Sonny. She didn’t know how much her cousin really knew about what was going on, or even if Cici knew what her father had done to Viviana’s family, but the girl had a mean streak, either way. A little taste of power could do that to people, and Cici likely thought she had that in droves, considering her father’s status in the mob.

There had once been a time when Viviana was the Don’s daughter, and now she wasn’t.

Cici was.

And you’re the fiancée of a Bratva boss
, Viviana thought.
Act like it.

Exactly.

But she was still fucking terrified.

Lifting her chin to regard Cici as if she was unfazed, Viviana shrugged. “My
fiancé
is around. Where’s your father, Cici? Is he around?”

“I’m not the one who needs safeguarding, Vine,” Cici replied with a smirk.

She really was a goddamned bitch. It probably wasn’t the best idea for her to be poking the beast, but Viviana wasn’t about to let Cici see how much her very presence worried and bothered her. “Are you still fucking around with Sonny’s messenger boy?”

It would sure explain why or what Cici might know.

Cici’s glare turned to ice. “Maybe I should call Daddy and—”

“Cici, look what I found!”

The voice of Lucille Carducci helped to ebb Viviana’s panic, but only for a second. Surely her aunt wouldn’t do a thing to hurt her, but Cici was another matter altogether. Especially if the way her cousin’s eyes narrowed in her direction was any indication. When Viviana’s aunt stepped around the corner, the white bag in her hand dropped to the floor. Surprise wrote lines across Lucille’s soft features.

“Viviana. Oh my God, honey, you need to—”

“What in the hell is going on here?”

Anton’s deep tenor had Viviana turning sharp on her heel to meet his stare.

“We need to go,” she breathed. “Right now.”

He nodded, but the action was wrought with tension and anger. Anton stared over her shoulder, his gaze blazing as he took in the two people behind her in the aisle. There was no doubt in her mind he was thinking the same thing she was about the situation.

“Sure, baby. Are you …?”

“I’m okay, but please, let’s just go.”

“Vine, listen to me—”

Anton’s short bark of laughter had Viviana flinching. “Lucille, right? Sonny’s wife. Tell your husband if we happen to meet up with anyone associated with him like this again, he won’t like the result. Understood?”

“Anton, please,” Viviana whispered.

“Is that understood?” he repeated through clenched teeth.

“Yes, we understand.”

“Good. Be sure your husband does as well.”

• • •

Anton tossed a black gift bag with gold trim across the table. It skidded past Viviana’s head and she barely glanced up over the bridal magazine she was knee deep into reading. Sasha had brought her about ten of them that morning, swearing if Viviana and her son didn’t pick a date soon, she would be picking one for them.

It wasn’t that Viviana didn’t want to, but more she couldn’t figure out which would be best for Anton. When they spoke about it together, he also couldn’t seem to come up with a suitable date that really worked.

“What’s that?” she asked, nodding at the bag.

Ivan slid into the kitchen with a wave at her before sticking his head inside the fridge. Anton didn’t seem to care much, instead shrugging and reaching over to grab a carrot stick off the plate Clarissa had brought for dinner.

“Something I thought you might like.”

Viviana cocked a brow. There had been about fifty different things that continued showing up at the safe house that Anton said she might like, and she did, sure. The credit cards and laptop she had were only a few. And really, that served her purpose just fine. If she needed something, she bought it, typed in the address Anton wanted her to use, and he’d bring it home whenever it arrived.

The graze of his thumb over the apple of her cheek drew her attention up to him again. “Find something you liked in there?”

“Not really.” The answering frown she responded with had her shrugging. “We need to settle on a date then maybe picking out all this nonsense can feel more … fun.”

“Planning weddings aren’t
fun
,” Ivan muttered, still poking around in the fridge. “It’s fucking torture. My wife spent two years planning ours and between her father and mine, it cost them close to half a mil for twelve hours of hell. Who spends that much money on a wedding? A nice foreign car, sure. A house, absolutely. A wedding, no.”

Viviana suppressed a shudder. “I don’t want do that, Anton.”

“Hmm, do what?”

Apparently, his hand still curving her cheek had all but distracted him. It wasn’t long before those fingers came to dance along the strap of her tank top before trying to dip lower beneath her shirt. She batted his fingers away with a pointed glance at Ivan, who was still trying to find something to chow down on.

It hadn’t taken Viviana long to learn that Anton was an insatiable man. From his businesses, to the things he enjoyed, to getting her into the bedroom, his attention focused and his drive began. At that moment, she was thinking his focus had turned to her and sex again. Especially since it was a little after dinner and his day was all but done.

Of course, there was still Ivan, too.

“Ivan,” Anton barked. “Doesn’t your wife feed you?”

“Sure, but you know she’s at her mother’s estate for the next few weeks. I can’t cook. Your pretty little thing there can, and I’m trying to find out what she made for me today.”

Viviana snickered. “Nothing, Ivan. Clarissa felt like I was doing her job and told me to back off.”

“She did not,” Anton argued.

“All right, so she said it in a politer way, but the sentiment was still the same. What’s the in bag?” Viviana asked as her gaze caught the toppled over gift bag again. “Did you buy me something else?”

“Patience is a virtue.”

“I’m not a very virtuous woman.”

“You can pretend to be,” he replied, winking.

She scowled at him playfully. Anton had grabbed the magazine from her hands. Pages were skimmed under his scrutinizing gaze as Ivan finally came to join them at the table. “By the way, I meant to thank you, baby.”

Viviana glanced up, surprised. “For what?”

“That shipment arrived without a lick of trouble.”

“Oh, well, you’re welcome.”

“That is horrid,” the lawyer said with a nod at a particularly poufy dress with way too much crinoline.

“Agreed.” Another page was turned, and then another. Anton’s finger tapped down to a mermaid styled, ivory colored dress all done up in lace from top to bottom with intricate pearl work along the bodice. While the capped sleeves and modest cut of the front was sweet, the deep plunge in the back showcased a great deal of skin. There was no denying it was a beautiful wedding dress. “Now, that is something I might enjoy taking off of you.”

Viviana cleared her throat at his suggestive tone while Ivan chuckled and gave a short wave before he left their space. “At least you didn’t pick something white. Still, it’s a little too daring, isn’t it?”

“For what?”

“A Catholic service, Anton. What in the hell else?”

“Oh God, no. I am not marrying into that mess. A Justice of the Peace will be just fine.”

Viviana felt stunned. Traditionally, men married in the church of the woman if their religions weren’t shared. Anton, however, was Jewish and he very well might want her to convert. “You’re not Catholic. I’d forgotten.”

The low hum that came from somewhere in the back of his throat felt almost dismissive. “So what? I’m Jewish. You’re Catholic. I don’t go to the temple, and given the reports I’ve had on you these last three years, you haven’t been going to church either.”

“Dad wasn’t around to make me go.”

“And we never quite followed the rules,” Anton added gently. “Sex before marriage. Catholics don’t believe in contraceptive methods. Living together and sharing a bed. My profession. I already told you I wasn’t buying my way into heaven and I don’t much care to pretend like I would. Wear ivory if it makes you feel better. Have some Christian readings in the service if it suits your needs. I don’t want to be married in a church, or a temple, Vine. Does it really matter?”

• • •

Anton waited for Viviana’s response with silent worry. Looking down at her distant gaze, he wondered if his refusal of her religion was going to be a hard limit for them. Over the last three weeks since her arrival, he hadn’t found many things between them that could cause either one of them to kick up a fuss. Almost seamlessly, their lives seemed to intertwine, as if they were always meant to.

He would swear they were extensions of one another. Viviana was his perfect half, and sometimes it scared the living shit out of him. Break someone’s jaw, no problem. Step in between drawn guns, not an issue. Sadden a woman who could bring him to his knees and suddenly Anton was a worried, anxious mess.

And damn, Viviana had done so well with everything he threw at her. The interviews with the police and fire marshal went just fine. There wasn’t a flicker of hesitation or fear in her voice as she perched up on his lap and spoke to those men over the phone. The bulls who accompanied her on the walks with Rocco didn’t have a bad thing to say, and if anything, they were worried her niceness to them would concern Anton. More often than not, she spent her days in the upstairs apartment with his parents until he was due home. Especially after that scene with her aunt and cousin a couple of days ago.

It was obvious a touch of cabin fever was beginning to settle in, though. Viviana had been going to school, she had friends and a life just starting to build in Toronto, and now he had her locked up tight with only the daily walk to the dog park and back with their pup. He sincerely hoped his gift in the black gift bag would help her with that issue.

“Viviana?”

“No … actually, that makes it easier.”

Anton didn’t know what to say. “Does it?”

“Yeah. We’d have to do those stupid classes, and it’s a six month thing that we don’t have the time for, or somehow buy our way out of them. I hate the big services for a Catholic wedding. It’s always long, the attendance is huge. I didn’t want to be in the spotlight like that. Really, it seemed like a hell of a lot of work for us to do in just two months.”

Oh, thank fuck
, he thought. Relief whisked the sudden weight right off his shoulders. “It would be a lot of work. A smaller service would be nice, given your family isn’t exactly on the invite list.”

Viviana’s lips pursed. “None?”

“I could see about a few, but it probably wouldn’t be smart on our end. More like throwing it in their faces.”

“But we could send out the invitations to some of them anyway, right?”

“Uh…”

“He should know,” she insisted quietly, a finger tracing the line of the model on the page. “I want him to know, Anton.”

“Who?” he asked, confused at her statements and pensive expression.

“Sonny. He needs to understand that what he did doesn’t matter. The arrangement is being upheld like they wanted. Their deaths were for nothing. His hands are stained red. I still want you.”

Without giving her any warning, he turned her chair with a loud screech on the tiled floor. Down on his knees between her spread thighs, Anton found his hands trailing up under that flimsy, flowery skirt she wore.