I’m not normally someone who smiles. Emotions are a liability in the life I was born into and certainly within my family. If you want to survive life as a Russo, you have to be cold and dead inside. There’s no room for feelings, or love, or happiness. Those things are myths you hear about from other people, but you can never feel them yourself.
Except, I haven’t stopped smiling since I left Snow asleep in her bed. The corners of my mouth and cheeks ache from the foreign gesture, but I can’t help it. A part of me has clicked into place, and I’ve never felt so settled in myself. My whole life I’ve looked over my shoulder, waiting for something to go wrong. But now Snow’s here. Everything in my world feels right.
In my family, happiness was always a weakness. One time when I was seven, a friend at school gave me a toy car. I’d never had one before because my father and uncles didn’t believe Everett and I should have a childhood. Our sole purpose was to be the heirs to the Russo name, and we started training for that role almost from when we took our first steps. He was luckier than I was. His mother was alive for some of his life, so he felt love and compassion, even if he did experience such loss at a young age. My mother died when I was a baby, meaning the only parent I ever had was a cold, heartless father.
When my father found the car in my backpack, he threw it in the fire and forced me to watch it melt, and once it was nothing more than the metal frame, he made me reach into the open flame and retrieve the burning hot remnants of the toy I loved so much. I still have the scars from where he forced me to hold it until it was cool enough for him to throw in the trash.
That was the day I turned my emotions off, and I didn’t turn them back on again until the day I laid eyes on my beautiful Snowflake. She’s the only one to ever make me feel anything and having her in my home feels right.
I watch as she rummages through the bathroom looking for something to protect herself, just as I expected her to do. Every move she’s made since she woke up has been exactly as I thought it would be. Confusion. Panic. Reasoning with herself. Survival. Each reaction is so uniquely Snow it only makes my smile grow wider.
She’s incredible. The perfect mix of fire and uncertainty she’s always lived her life with. I’m addicted to her rebellion and obsessed with the shyness she hides behind the mask she shows the world. I’ve been hooked on Snow Saint James since the first time our eyes met, and there isn’t a drug on this earth I’d rather be addicted to.
I’ve planned everything from when I first laid her down on her new bed. I should be walking in there any minute now, taunting her with who I am, but something inside me makes me stop. Dare I say my conscience? I didn’t believe I had one up until now. Hell, when you’ve done the shit I have, the word itself is foreign, but there’s something about my Snowflake that makes me second guess everything I’ve ever known.
She’s scared. Whether she’s willing to admit it or not, she’s a frightened little lamb, and me going in there to taunt her is only going to make it harder to make her trust me. We have a long way to go to get her where I want her, and while my baser instincts call to me to hunt my prey, make sure she knows the danger lurking in the shadows and then pounce when she’s least expecting it, the part of me that Snow softens wants to ease her into her new reality.
A knock at the door startles me. Already Snow has become a distraction, but I can’t bring myself to care. One of the main reasons I partnered with the Saint James family was so I would have more time to spend with her when she arrived, and soon I’ll start hiring some more staff to help me. A second in charge, maybe even an enforcer to do the dirty work. As much as I crave the blood of my enemies, the screams they let out as they get closer and closer to death, Snow won’t like it if I come home covered in blood, so I may have to take a step back from that side of the business.
“Come in,” I say just loud enough for whoever is outside the door to hear.
Mrs. Chambers sticks her head through the door, a warm smile on her lips. I was the most concerned about her going along with this plan and not running back to the Saint James family to tell them Snow is here against her will, but when I told her we would be having a houseguest who would eventually become my wife, she seemed almost excited. She’s been a housekeeper in our family for my whole life, and the source of the only warmth I’ve ever felt. She’s the one who raised me, and deep down, she knows I would never hurt a woman the way my father and uncles did.
“I have Miss Saint James’s dinner here. Would you like me to take it in?”
“Please.” I nod. “As we discussed, you can speak to her. She’ll need someone to lean on, but for the moment, omit where she is and who has her.” We’ve been over this a few times in the last couple of weeks. All the staff were made aware of our guest and what it would mean if they were to tell anyone she was here before the time was right, and each of them knew there was more than just their jobs on the line. I’ll fucking slaughter their entire families while they watch and then torture them for as long as I can before their body finally gives up if they breathe a word of this to anyone.
“Of course, Mr. Russo.” She gives me a kind smile before backing out of the room.
“Mrs. Chambers,” I call out before she can close the door, and her head peeks back in. “Thank you for helping me make this easier on her.”
“She’s been here a few hours, and I can already see what she means to you, and you know all I’ve ever wanted for you is happiness. If this makes you happy, and you can make her feel safe and cherished, then I’m going to be on board. But mark my words, Elijah, if you ever lay a hand on that woman, I will do whatever it takes to get her away from you, regardless of the consequences.”
I almost laugh. She’s the only one who has ever gone toe to toe with a Russo and walked away with her life, and she’s not looking to break that streak now. “You have my word. I will never raise my hand to Snow, never hurt her the way my father and uncles hurt the women in their lives.”
“Then we won’t have a problem.” The door closes behind her, and I allow the chuckle to trickle from my chest. Maybe I have a soft spot for my fiery little Snowflake, because the woman who raised me is just the same way.
