18

Armani

Karlin Makarova is an arms dealer and enemy of the bratva because he trades in Moscow without Viktor’s permission.

I don’t understand why Alek’s father would arrange a marriage between the man and Tiana.

And I’m fucking pissed off. She’s promised to me.

Stalking into the hotel, I head up to the second floor and knock on the door.

When Tiana doesn’t open, I knock again, calling, “It’s Armani.”

Not even a second later, the door swings open. My eyes lock on Tiana’s pale face and damp hair. I step into the room and shut the door behind me, then take a good look at her.

She looks fucking terrified, the fear trembling in her eyes.

My heart stutters in my chest from the sight. I take hold of Tiana’s shoulders and pull her to my chest. Pressing a kiss to the damp strands, I say, “I’m here. I’ll take care of everything.”

She lets go of the blanket she’s been clinging to and wraps her arms around me. “I’m in so much trouble. I shouldn’t have called you, but I didn’t know what else to do.”

“When did you find out about the arranged marriage?” I ask as I push her back so I can see her face.

“On Monday. I’ve been on three dates with Karlin. I was going to wait for Misha to get back, but then…” Her words trail away.

“Why didn’t you tell me on Monday?”

Tiana takes a couple of steps back while wrapping her arms around her middle. Her fear-filled eyes dart from my face to the floor. “You’re mafia, and this is a bratva matter. I didn’t want to get you in trouble.” She gives me a pleading look. “I didn’t want to be the cause of a war between the mafia and the bratva.”

I shake my head. “That won’t happen easily.” I glance around the room, and seeing the wet coat on the floor, I shrug out of my jacket and wrap it around Tiana’s shoulders. “Tell me what happened. Don’t leave anything out.”

She pushes her arms into the sleeves and sits down on the edge of the bed. Looking defeated, her eyes drift closed.

“Mr. Aslanhov called me to his office and said I’m to marry Karlin. We went on three dates.” Her eyes open, and she looks self-conscious as she adds, “He’s not a nice person, and I tried to handle it on my own.” Her shoulders fall in defeat, and she shakes her head. “I shouldn’t have run.”

Walking closer, I crouch in front of her and place my hand on her knee. When her eyes meet mine, I say, “You did the right thing, piccola, but you should’ve told me what was happening on Monday. Don’t keep things like this from me.”

Worry forms a frown on her forehead. “But you’re mafia, Armani. What good will that do? You have no power in Russia.”

Taking a deep breath, I rise to my full height. Locking eyes with Tiana, I say, “We need to get back to St. Monarch’s. You’ll be safe on neutral ground.”

“I don’t have my passport. It’s at the house.”

“You don’t need one.” I hold my hand out and wait for her to place her palm in mine, then pulling her to her feet, I lace our fingers as we walk to the door.

“I need to settle the hotel fee, but I don’t have money,” she informs me as we leave the room. “I’m so sorry.”

“I’ll take care of it.” My eyes flick to her face. “Stop apologizing, Tiana. It’s my duty to take care of you.”

Because that’s what a fucking fiancé does. He doesn’t terrify the ever- living shit out of the woman he’s going to marry.

I’m on guard for an attack as we head down to the lobby. I only have one gun, which won’t get us far if Makarova’s men find us.

I quickly settle the bill and hurry out of the hotel with Tiana’s hand firmly in mine. Glancing around us, I walk to the old sedan I borrowed from the airfield where the private jet is waiting.

This little trip is costing me fifty thousand euros. Carson, the director of St. Monarch’s, made the travel arrangements. He’s related to Viktor, so it’s only a matter of time before the head of the bratva hears of this.

Knowing how valuable every second is, I pull out my phone as we climb into the car. I start the engine, and as I pull away from the curb, I dial the only number that can help us.

“Cotroni,” my boss answers.

“It’s Armani De Santis.” Not wasting time, I inform him of everything. “I’m in Moscow. I have Tiana Petrov with me, and I’m taking her to St. Monarch’s.”

Christ, Tiana’s going to learn the truth. I can’t wait for Misha to tell her.

“Mr. Aslanhov agreed to an arranged marriage between her and Karlin Makarova, but her brother, Misha, already promised her to me.”

My eyes leave the road, and I see the shock flutter over Tiana’s beautiful features. Her lips part, the gasp leaving her filled with surprise.

With wide eyes, she stares at me as if I’ve lost my mind and I’m spouting the biggest load of bullshit.

She quickly turns her head to look at the road again, blinking as if she’s struggling to comprehend the idea of us getting married.

Christ. It doesn’t look as if she’s taking the news well.

“When was the agreement made between you and Misha?” Luca asks, drawing my attention back to the conversation.

“When the shit went down with D’Angelo and Sartori. Misha asked me to marry his sister. I made a promise to him which I won’t go back on.”

“Why am I only being told now?”

“We were waiting to complete our training. I apologize for not telling you sooner, sir.”

Luca lets out a heavy sigh. “Let me talk to Viktor. I’ll get back to you.”

The call ends, and leaving the phone on my lap, I glance at Tiana, who’s a frozen pillar next to me, her eyes locked on the road ahead.

“I’m sorry you had to find out like this,” I murmur. “Misha and I wanted to tell you once he returned from his honeymoon.”

Tiana shakes her head. “The news is sudden, but I’d rather marry you than Karlin.”

Thank God.

“So you’re okay with the arrangement?”

Not looking at me, she nods. “Misha knows what’s best for me. I’ll marry whoever he chooses for me.”

Misha’s going to lose his fucking mind when he hears the message I left on his voicemail.

An uncomfortable silence falls between us, and I let out a breath of relief when we make it to the airfield without being attacked.

I’m taking it as a win. Maybe Makarova doesn’t give a fuck that Tiana ran away.

After we climb out of the sedan and I return the keys to the office, we head to the aircraft.

Boarding the private jet, I instruct the pilot to take us back to St. Monarch’s. Tiana sits down across from me and fastens her seat belt. Her eyes dart all over the plane, refusing to look at me.

Christ, she looks so fucking uncomfortable, but it’s expected with the bomb I dropped on her a couple of minutes ago.

I take in her pale face, and as my gaze lowers, I see the red marks on her neck, which I haven’t noticed before.

There’s an instant flare of anger in my gut as I see the unmistakable imprints of fingers on her pale skin.

“What happened to your neck?”

Unable to avoid eye contact any longer, Tiana finally looks at me. “Karlin grabbed me.”

Slowly, I nod, rage filling my chest.

“Is he responsible for the mark I saw on your jaw?”

She nods, and clearly embarrassed, she lowers her eyes from mine.

The fucking bastard hurt her.