“Keep your father from escalating things. As long as he doesn’t push Kirill too far, it’ll settle as soon as this is sorted”
Matteo sighed. “Why not ask for the moon while you’re at it?”
“You could always kill him now and be done with it.”
“Not yet.” Ice slid into his cousin’s tone. “Some of the old guard is being resistant to the idea of change.”
“So, kill them, too.”
His cousin snorted. “I’ll think about it. Stay safe.”
“You, too.” He hung up and planted his hands on the counter. If Lorenzo fucked this up for him, Dante would ensure he suffered before Matteo finally put a bullet between his eyes. Kirill getting pissy wasn’t outside the realm of expectation. The Romanovs truly liked the fantasy that they were loyal to each other and just as clannish as the O’Malleys were. It was a lie.
Thirty years ago, Dmitri Romanov nearly got snuffed out by his own people. He’d made too many mistakes with the O’Malleys and had gone soft for the youngest sister. Marrying her initially stayed Mother Russia’s hand, and then there was a conflict in Texas that turned their gaze away from New York for a few years. By the time they circled back, Dmitri and Keira were stable and ruling a healthy territory. Above reproach, even for the likes of Jovan Romanov.
Even with all the research Dante did into the New York Romanov family, he still wasn’t sure if Dmitri realized how close he’d come to being ground to dust beneath the boot of his extended family. Ultimately, it didn’t matter. Studying history made the future predictable. Which was how he could recite the next phone call almost without making it. Unfortunately, some things simply had to be done. He dug one of the burner phones out of the drawer full of them and called Dmitri Romanov.
As suspected, the man himself answered. “Romanov.” A faint Russian accent flavored the word.
“I thought we should have a discussion.”
Silence for a beat. Two. “Am I to assume I’m speaking with Dante Verducci?”
“Si.”
“You have some balls to call me after what you’ve done.”
Dante grinned. He respected the fuck out of Dmitri. He ruled his territory with an iron fist but never escalated violence unnecessarily. He was smart enough to know that making a messy example of a single enemy was more effective than all the threats in the world. Most importantly, he treated Rose well.
Or he had up until strong-arming her into the bullshit marriage with Romeo Capparelli.
Dante’s smile died. “As I told your daughter, let’s not throw stones from glass houses. When you move in the world we do, the rules are different. You terrorized the O’Malley family and ultimately blackmailed your now-wife into marrying you. How is that different from what I’ve done?”
Another of those dangerous silences. “The situation was different.”
“It’s not.”
“My daughter was engaged to Romeo Capparelli because of the stunt you pulled. Then you decide to go behind everyone’s back and take her. This is a mess that might be unsalvageable, and the blame lays squarely with you.” His voice went downright frigid. “Let me speak to my daughter.”
“No.”
“If you’ve harmed her—”
“She’s perfectly safe, if furious.” He chose not to mention anything connected to what happened in the shower. It wasn’t the kind of conversation a man had with his future father-in-law. “She’ll call you once we come to an agreement.”
“An agreement.”
“Si.”
Dante could appreciate how he loaded his silences with the threat of violence. This man wasn’t a half-cocked gun like Lorenzo. He might be furious and worried about his daughter, but none of that emotion seeped into his voice. Finally, Dmitri said, “Surely you aren’t insinuating you have intentions regarding Rose.”
“She’s mine.”
“She’s not.” A thread of heat sounded beneath the ice. “She’s the heir to the Romanov family here in New York. She’s not a pawn to be taken at will.”
Dante let some of his fury bleed into his tone. “And yet you were marrying her off to the Capparellis. Just like a pawn.”
“That’s different.”
“It’s really not.” He barely beat back the anger that rose at the thought of her in that white dress, ready to say “I do” to Romeo. “Or is she only allowed to be a pawn when you’re the one making the moves?”
“She was only in that situation because you put her there.”
“And yet you didn’t defend her. The great Dmitri Romanov, bending over to offer up his eldest daughter to appease an Italian over a little insult.” Dante tsked. “Disappointing.”
“What is it that you want, Verducci? I assumed you called with more intention that to gloat.”
Gloat. The thought was laughable. He hadn’t won yet. Dante was sure of his victory, but only a fool ignored the possibility of unknown factors arising to complicate the situation. “I called to state my intentions. I’m going to marry Rose.”
“Nyet.” Dmitri snarled in Russian for several seconds before he dragged in a breath and regained his supposed calm. “My daughter will make herself a widow if you try.”
“We’ll see.” He had no doubt Rose was capable of it. He wore her scars, after all. But if she truly hated him as much as she pretended, she wouldn’t have come all over his hand in the shower. She wouldn’t have stared at his bare chest with heat in her hazel eyes when she thought he wasn’t looking. She felt the same way Dante did. She was just being stubborn about it. “Be sure to tell Romeo he’s destined to be disappointed.”
“I see.” Something strange in Dmitri’s tone, something off. “You’re not long for this world, Verducci. If we’re passing along messages, be sure to tell my daughter that we’re coming for her.”
“By the time you find her, she’ll be my wife.”
“Good thing Rose looks excellent in black.”
“You’re going to be fun as a father-in-law.” Dante hung up.
That went about as well as could be expected. He didn’t expect the man to thank him for throwing a wrench into his plans, but he’d come around. He obviously loved his daughter, and if something—someone—made her happy, he’d get over his personal feelings on the matter. Most likely. Either way, he’d deal with it. Dante methodically dismantled the phone. They hadn’t spoken long enough for a trace, but better to play this with an abundance of caution.
With his tasks out of the way, he checked the monitors one last time and ducked out of the closet. Dante paused to ensure it closed properly behind him and the latch was hidden once again, and then he went in search of Rose.
He’d half expected to find her in the closet waiting for him, ready to demand answers, but the space was empty. So was the bedroom and hallway leading to the main room. He moved silently, curious to what she’d gotten up to in his absence. Perhaps she’d found the food he had stocked in the fridge? It had been too long since she’d eaten, so that would be a logical next step.
He really should have known better.