Reign (The Syndicate_ Crime and Passion Book 2)(4)

He was a criminal, a killer, exactly the kind of person I swore I wouldn’t want and would never, ever trust.

But…

That look in his eyes called to me, made me want to believe in him. Made me want to trust him.

Made me want him.

I slammed my fist against the rug-covered floor, uncaring of the dull waves of pain that moved through my hand. I deserved them, needed them, if only to keep myself from forgetting who and what he was.

It would be beyond stupid of me to ever pretend that what I’d seen was real, to allow myself to believe he was anything more than another someone who only cared what I could do for him, if he even cared at all.

I had married him for my family, would do whatever I had to for them. However, I would keep myself distant, make sure I never allowed myself to fall for whatever game hid behind his beautiful eyes.

Of course, the man himself hadn’t given me a chance to take his measure.

He’d said a scant few words to me, two to be exact, and then he’d been gone. I’d lingered long enough to have a short conversation with my father, received the forced, confused well-wishes. I’d played my role to perfection, ignoring the curious stares, ignoring the obvious sham and instead politely accepting the congratulations.

Then I’d been alone, whisked into the backseat of one of my new husband’s cars like this was an ordinary day.

It was anything but. Still, I needed to pull myself together.

Because before I’d looked into Sergei’s eyes, I’d looked into my father’s.

His body was broken, something I’d never seen. I didn’t think I could even remember him ever having a cold, let alone being hurt by someone else.

The pure rage that burned in his eyes, though, I’d seen, seen far more often than I cared to remember. My stomach fluttered as I thought of that look, of what it meant. And I was again reminded of why I had agreed to this in the first place.

I needed to protect my father from himself, protect the people he would hurt from him. I knew he couldn’t—or wouldn’t—do it himself. So it was up to me.

It had never been my goal to be the buffer between Santo and the outside world. The role had found me, though, and that role had never been more important than it was now.

If I failed, people would suffer. I didn’t know what success looked like in this situation, but if marrying Sergei was the price of keeping people alive, I’d pay it.

It was what my mother would have done. God, how I wished she was here. I could almost feel her arms around me, smell her light rosewater scent, hear her voice telling me it would all be okay.

She wasn’t here, wouldn’t be coming back. But I would now, as I had always wanted to, try my best to make her proud, do what I knew she would.

I pulled myself off the living room floor and made my way through my bedroom and to the attached bath. Then, as carefully as I could, I scrubbed my face clean and reapplied my makeup.

It took nearly two hours to put it on, but I was happy with how it turned out, the neutral colors looking effortless and natural.

I was good at that, making the hardest chores look effortless.

I grabbed the small bag I had packed the night before, and then, after a deep breath, went back outside. The SUV and driver still sat in the same spot, and had the sun not begun to set, I wouldn’t have known any time had passed.

Wobbly on my heels, which was more a reflection of nerves than anything else, I walked back to the SUV, pushed the bag to one side, and got in.

“I’m ready,” I said to the driver, my voice a whisper.





Three





Sergei



I sat behind the steering wheel and tugged at the fucking tie that threatened to strangle me, breathing a sigh of relief when I finally got it open.

I hated the things, and had only worn it because of Maxim’s insistence that I dress appropriately for my wedding.

Not that he’d bothered to show up for it.

After throwing the tie across the backseat of the SUV, I sped off, wanting to put distance between me and the church. Funny that the house of worship had been as hostile as any other place I’d ever been, and I’d been in my fair share of hostile environments.

As I pulled off, I caught a glimpse of white and instantly, my mind went to her.

Daniela Carmelli.

My new bride.

I sped up, having an urge to do something with the weird spark of energy shooting through me. I also pushed Daniela from my mind. Yes, she was my wife now, but that was irrelevant. Marrying her had only been a means to an end, just another show of my loyalty to Maxim and the Syndicate.

I’d worked for Maxim for years, and I’d never shown him disloyalty. While it was stupid of me to think so, I believed he trusted me, or trusted me as much as he could given his role as head of an international organized crime ring.