I stride through the front doors of the Saint James estate with Snow’s hand wrapped around mine. Her excitement is bursting from her, barely contained by her tiny body as she looks around with the biggest smile I’ve seen on her face since I brought her home.
When I told her we were coming here today so I could talk business with her brothers and she could do some wedding planning, I thought she was going to cry with joy. To me it didn’t seem like that big a deal, but I have to remember that aside from the one night for dinner, Snow has been cooped up for almost two weeks without much contact with the outside world, and her only company being from myself or a sixty-year-old woman.
She needs this.
It’s been two days since I found her on the bathroom floor crying from the pain of her cramps, and ever since then she’s been much more pliable with me. She still argues when I tell her to do something, but there’s none of the disdain I’ve grown accustomed to seeing in her eyes. She fights now because she thinks she should, not because she wants to, which means we’re making progress.
It was hard for me to see her in so much pain but caring for her came naturally to me. I’ve never looked after another human being in my life, never cared about their comfort or their pain, but I shouldn’t be surprised that Snow is different. She’s the exception to every single one of my rules.
“Snow!” Wynter beams as she sprints down the hallway toward us. I’m used to seeing her in business attire, but today she’s wearing a pair of leggings and a gray sweater that swims on her.
“Dove!” Everett bellows from behind her. “No running.”
She rolls her eyes and slows to a walk. “I’m pregnant, not broken,” she chimes. “Plenty of women run marathons well into pregnancy.”
Everett shakes his head, massaging the bridge of his nose to ease the ache.
“I think you’re going to make his head explode.” Snow giggles.
“Maybe then I’ll be allowed to leave the house without a small army escorting me around.”
Everett scrubs his hand down his face before meeting my eyes. “We’re this way.”
I hold on to Snow’s hand for another moment, quietly telling her to behave. I’m putting a lot of trust in her by allowing her to be alone with her sister, knowing she could spill the metaphorical beans and tell them I’ve been keeping her against her will for the last two weeks.
Snow looks up at me with a smile, and for some reason, I trust that she’s not going to make a run for it. Everything changed that night in the bathroom, including her feelings toward me.
I release her hand, giving her a gentle kiss on the cheek before following Everett. Tearing myself away from her is harder with every day that passes, and the need to get a second in charge grows more urgent.
I glance into the living room as I pass it, a small smirk capturing my lips. The plan for that night went from bad to worse so fucking quickly it was barely long enough to blink.
I was meant to take Snow that night amongst the chaos Charles created. I was going to smuggle her out, but then Wynter shot me, and all my plans went out the window. I should have known better than to underestimate a Saint James woman. They never do what you expect them to, and perhaps that’s part of the appeal.
It worked out for the best if I’m honest. Taking her while we have an alliance in place means they couldn’t retaliate the way they may have previously, even if she was playing along like she is now.
When I meet Everett a few steps later, he’s only just tearing his eyes away from where the girls are chatting excitedly. It’s not until they’re standing side by side that you truly notice how similar they are, in more than just their looks. Their mannerisms are so alike that some may mistake them for the same person if they were looking at that alone.
“That woman is going to give me a fucking heart attack,” Everett mutters, turning to guide me down the hallway. This is the first time I’ve been inside the house with an invite, but I know the layout almost as well as the people who live here.
“Imagine if you have a daughter,” I scoff. It’s strange to talk to my cousin like this, like we haven’t spent our entire lives being forced to compete and beat the shit out of one another.
Everett’s eyes widen. “Jesus.”
I chuckle as I follow him through the house. It’s ostentatious and old in its decorating, reminding me of Uncle Angelo’s home. It must be a requirement when you become a Mafia boss to hire interior designers from the eighteenth century to decorate your house.
I expect to stop at Storm’s office and my step falters when Everett continues down the hallway past the door. If I’m not meeting them in there, where are we going?
“Any news about the shipment?” I ask. Snow and I have been living in our own little world the last couple of days, and apart from having one of my men talk to some people on the street, I haven’t looked into it at all. I told Storm as much when he called this morning, and he didn’t seem particularly happy, but while we may have an alliance, I don’t work for him. I’m still a Russo and he’s still a Saint James. Our businesses are completely different, we deal in different shit, which is why we can coexist in the city and work together when needed.
It’s the moment Everett opens the door that leads to the basement that I know I wasn’t called here to talk through wedding plans or theories about who may be targeting shipments.
I glance at my cousin, not letting on that I know there’s something amiss, and notice the slightest of tics. His fingers fist together and release over and over again. Some may think it is the tell of a man who was trained to fight the way we were, but perhaps I’m the only one who can see past it because I was raised the same way.
I have no option but to walk down the steps ahead of him when he gestures for me to do so. I didn’t bring any security into the house, because I didn’t think I would have to. It would have looked like I didn’t trust the Saint James family, and that’s the last thing I need when I’m marrying their sister in a few days. And yet the moment a fist meets my cheek, I realize I’ve been played.
