“Gavriil Prakenskii. I know you sent a babysitter.” She whispered the words softly and pressed the button to bring the window down.
“I didn’t hear you,” Arturo said. “My ears aren’t what they used to be.”
“I was muttering to myself.”
“You only do that if you’re upset. You got the information. Belsky may be a double-crossing rat but he always brings the goods. It’s a point of honor with him. Whatever you have there is what you asked for.” There was curiosity in his voice.
Ignoring his unspoken question, she closed her eyes and stuck her head out the window, allowing the wind to blow through her hair and over her face. Cooling her. She was bound to fire. Inside, deep, where it mattered, at her very core, there was nothing cool and collected about her. She burned hot and passionate. Sometimes she felt as dead as her parents, lost to the world, existing, not living. The farther away from the farm and her sisters, the more that feeling persisted.
She had to be focused. Completely alert and absorbed, concentrating only on the job at hand. She’d stayed alive because she pushed her natural nature down. The need to bring justice to those who had so brutally murdered her family and those serving them had been overwhelming. The need to let them know she, Giacinta Abbracciabene, was the one bringing that justice down on their heads was equally as overwhelming. The intelligent, logical part of her had kept her calm and allowed her to formulate a long-term plan.
Now, Gavriil Prakenskii was threatening that plan. It made no sense to her. He knew her intention. He knew she planned to kill both father and son Sorbacov. Her sisters deserved happiness, and the Prakenskiis had served their country with honor. They also deserved to live out their lives in peace. She was doing this for them. Why would he make it more difficult? Because she was certain – certain – that the man calling himself Tomasso Dal Porto was in reality a Prakenskii.
She felt he was in her very bones. It was his eyes. She had been on the farm with her sisters of the heart, as they often called themselves, for a little over five years. In that time, Rikki, a sea urchin diver, had pulled a man from the sea. He had been a Prakenskii. Lev Prakenskii. She had married that man. They all learned to accept and love him, but he was a protective, overbearing man.
Then Judith had fallen. Judith, who had all kinds of sense until a man showed up to protect her from her past. Her man just happened to be a Prakenskii as well and she married him. Stefan Prakenskii owned an art gallery and was just as protective and overbearing as Lev.
Next it was Airiana. She’d been kidnapped – by a Prakenskii. Together they had shut down a ship of human traffickers and rescued four children. She was married to Maxim now and they were adopting the children. Max was worse than the other two when it came to being protective.
Little Lexi, their youngest and most vulnerable, had succumbed to the charms of Gavriil Prakenskii. He was the most arrogant and dangerous of all the brothers she’d met. Lissa liked him and especially liked him for her youngest sister, but adding him into the mix was just downright scary. There was way too much testosterone on the farm.
The brothers believed in safety first and they’d turned the farm into a heavily guarded sanctuary, but Lissa wasn’t safe there. She had too many secrets, and her work wasn’t finished. She couldn’t afford to have anyone watching her every move. Gavriil had guessed at what her plans were and he’d even provided information she wouldn’t have been able to get on her own, but she didn’t want help. She didn’t need it, and she refused to allow a Prakenskii male anywhere near her.
She wasn’t stupid or blind. She saw the pattern. Each of her sisters was bound to an element. Rikki was bound to water. Judith to spirit. Airiana was bound to air. Lexi was bound to the earth. Lissa blew out her breath and yanked the brush through her hair. She was bound to fire. That meant that every minute of every day, she had to suppress her passionate nature. Her need for action.
Lissa didn’t dare show the Prakenskii brothers her skills when she was practicing martial arts or using weapons with them. She had to allow them to best her at every turn. It wasn’t always easy. When discussions arose, she had to be subdued and keep silent when she wanted to argue fiercely for her point. She desperately wanted to be herself. Desperately.
Coming back to Italy, being in her uncle’s home, she still couldn’t be who she was deep inside. They had planned together, long ago, when she was a child, how to bring justice to the Porcelli family. Lissa had been a hothead, but Luigi had forced her to slow down to learn the things she needed to learn in order to keep from being killed. That had taken years. In that time, she learned the wisdom of patience.