push me toward the altar. The question of whether I’ll let myself be forced in either direction settles in my mind. It isn’t as easy to shrug off as I would have thought.
The more I think about it, the more I realize I didn’t actually mistake Jaime’s words the first time. On some level I understood that ‘just marry the bitch’ referred to Elena and not Nataly. It’s why I spared her life and why I’m now keeping her close. I don’t want to admit it, even to myself, but if push comes to shove, I won’t be able to bring myself to kill her. It has nothing to do with her innocence in the face of her father’s bonehead decisions.
It has more to do with my aversion to snuffing out that spark in Elena, the elemental thing that makes me want to throttle her and fuck her at the same time. The thing that makes me think I could be content keeping her around indefinitely.
If my place in the cartel requires me to marry someone, then my current captive is the best option. It would be more of a business arrangement than anything else—a sacrifice Elena owes me in lieu of the punishment due for her father’s sins. She will be allowed to live, and in return she’ll act as a shield against the designs of men like Oleg, who think my youth and eligibility make me the perfect pawn in their games.
By the time I reach my office, my thoughts are reeling with plans and ideas. This has to be orchestrated perfectly, where Oleg can see and have no doubt. It must be believable, and it needs to happen fast.
I jerk off my tie and loosen my top button before snatching up my phone and dialing Jovan. “Get your ass to my office. Now.”
My skin breaks out in a cold sweat as I let myself come to terms with what my life will be now. Elena won’t make this easy, but in time I imagine we’ll find our way toward some kind of normal life. As normal as a life can be for a mob boss and his wife.
There can’t be children. It’s one point I won’t budge on. Whatever the ‘new normal’ will be I, it won’t include the cycle of death and rage and pain that colored my childhood years. There will be no kids who can be used to bring me to my knees, no son to mold in my own image. No laughter or smiles in a violent world.
It will work. It has to work. This pact with the Yezhovs is about more than strength in numbers, or the use of their dark net contacts. It’s now about making sure one of my most reliable friends doesn’t become an enemy. If our relationship sours over this, the Russians will be added to the list of people who want my blood, including the Armenians. The influence of the Yezhov family will bring others to their side, and the Irish are particularly ripe for the picking. I can’t afford Oleg as an enemy, but I can’t bring myself to choose Nataly, either. Convincing him I’m too in love to settle for an arranged marriage is the only way.
I close my eyes and take a few deep, slow breaths. The dizziness subsides and I find myself feeling cooler and more levelheaded. Solidifying the idea of Elena as my wife mentally makes it real, and surprisingly doesn’t make me sick to my stomach—which is how I feel when she’s replaced in my mind with Nataly.
I hope it counts as a sign that I won’t come to regret this decision.
17
Elena
The next few weeks of are filled with outings and events designed to parade me in front of Oleg. A few days after that first dinner, Diego returns the favor by hosting the Yezhovs at his own house. It seemed easier to perform while under a familiar roof—my own territory so to speak. Becoming comfortable here pushes me toward accepting that my imprisonment might be permanent—something I refuse to believe. A convenient avenue of escape hasn’t opened up yet, but I’m always watching and waiting for the right time.
Meanwhile, I play my role without complaint or resistance. Things are tenser than ever between me and Diego after the night I came on to him. I catch him staring at me sometimes with a pensive look in his eyes, and I can’t figure out what he’s thinking. Other times I feel