“Tell me what?”
We both jump up from the bench like we’d been caught making out. Lucca is standing in front of us, looking torn between angry and worried. “What’s going on? Athena told me you got called into Dean Christie’s office. I’ve been looking for you.”
Aleks looks at me sadly. “Are you going to be okay?”
“Yeah,” I nodded too hard, like that would make it all make sense. “Thanks.”
Lucca watches him walk away with a frown.
“Hey, let’s go…” What was I going to say?
“You’re crying?” He cups my cheeks tenderly between his lovely, warm hands. “What happened, sweet girl?”
“Can we go…” I rub my forehead. “Can we go to the greenhouse?”
His thumb is stroking my cheekbone. “Are you sure you don’t want to go back to my place?”
I can’t do that. See his bed, smell his rum, wintergreen, and cedar scent. “The greenhouse. Okay?”
“Of course, come on.” He puts his arm around me protectively and I lean into it, soaking up the feeling of safety he gives me.
The flowers are as fragrant as they were on Christmas Eve, those unusual roses still blooming with their lush ebony petals. Lucca sits down, pulling me onto his lap. “Talk to me, piccolo bacio. Who made you cry?”
Burying my face in the space between his neck and shoulder, I selfishly breathe in deep, trying to memorize how he smells, the warmth of his skin. “My brother Roman came to see me,” I said with a bitter little chuckle. “For a total of ten minutes.”
“Is everything okay?” he says, so concerned and kind. “Have there been more attacks?”
“He needs allies,” I said, sitting up. “Alek's father Leonid Rostova was there, too. They’ve…” I start sobbing again, to my shame. I have no right to cry in front of him. It’s so selfish. I want to beg him to run away with me. Just disappear. Fuck this world and their arranged marriages. When I look up, I see Lucca’s tanned olive skin is turning pale.
“Why were they here?” he asks hoarsely.
“They…” I’m crying too hard to get the words out.
“Why were they here, Tati? Why were you crying with Aleks?” His voice is rising.
My hands drop limply to my lap. “They’ve arranged a marriage for Aleks and me to cement an alliance between our families. My brother needs this. We’re getting married this summer.”
“What the fuck?” Lucca’s on his feet, looking at me incredulously. “You’re going to tell him no! I’ll- I’ll call Giovanni and request he meet with Roman and make an alliance between our families. We’re the most powerful Mafia in Italy and the US! We’re a much better match! This is-”
“I can’t,” I interrupt him. “You know we can’t. The alliance is made. To go back on an agreement with another Bratva is unforgivable, especially with one of the Moscow Six Families. It could destroy the Aslanov Bratva.”
“I don’t care!” he shouts, “You can’t want this!”
“You know I don’t!” I follow him as he backs away, “Of course I don’t! I love you; I love you so much and this…” I’m sobbing again, my throat too thick to speak.
“Well, then you can’t, Tati! You tell your brother we’re together. Tell him I took your virginity and that I want to marry you!” His eyes are wide and the pain there is unbearable. “I’ll tell him then; I’ll call your brother and-”
“Lucca, stop! You can’t.” I try to take his hand but he grabs me instead, holding me tightly against him.
“You’re not marrying Aleks,” he moans, “you’re not marrying anyone but me.”
It would be so good to just sag into his warmth, his strong arms and just pretend that we could fix this somehow. “If this was your family,” I said, running my hand through his thick hair, “if the Toscanos were in terrible danger and you could do something about it-”
“No! Not if it meant losing you!” Lucca kisses me with the desperation of a dying man, pulling me tighter like he could absorb me into him.
“You would, moya milaya, my sweetheart. This is all I have to give for my family’s safety.” I laugh bitterly.
“It’s what I was made for.”
He abruptly pulls loose from me. “That’s it then? You’re serious.” His features darken, like a cloud over the sun. “You’re giving us up so easily.”
“It’s not easy,” I whispered. “You are everything.”
“Liar.” He walks away, so quickly that he’s out the door before I can call after him, beg him to come back. I stand there among all the beautiful, poisonous flowers and cry like my soul’s been torn from my body.
Chapter Twenty-Five
In which all hope is lost. And toenails.
Tatiana…
A month later…
The weeks pass in a haze of misery.
Focusing on anything seems impossible. I’ve been surviving on room service to avoid seeing Lucca in the dining hall after he convinced Professor Zimmerman to allow him to transfer out of our combat class. I get it. He doesn’t want to look at me, now that I’m yet another person who has left him. Aleks and I tend to avoid each other, too. It’s painful to be reminded of how much the other person is giving up.
“Tati, have you… it’s next week… are you… Tatiana!”
Yelping, I look up at Camilla, who’s glaring at me with her hands on her hips. “Fille, have you heard a single thing I’ve been saying to you?”
“Sorry,” I mumble, “what?”
“I said that our Torture and Interrogation test is next week. Have you been studying any of the techniques?”
“Um…” I try to remember what I’ve read. “Yes.”
We’re sitting in the ancient library, one of the most beautiful buildings on campus with Gothic-style arches and beautifully carved shelves crammed with priceless books. There are five massive fireplaces scattered through the building and it’s always a little chilly, to protect the delicate, ancient reading material. It’s always been one of my favorite places here, where I could hide from all the drama and anxiety always raging through the campus.
She shakes her head sadly. “You are a mess. The R TI test is serious, fille, you need to be ready. Students flunk out of the Academy for failing to pass this test.”
I only have until the end of the school year before any semblance of choice in my life is gone. What does it matter?
“I’ll be ready,” I promise.
“All right,” she says, still watching me with concern. “Let me know if you want to study together.”
“Thank you,” I force a smile, watching her obvious relief. “I’ll be… you know. I’ll be fine.”
Leaving the library, I head for the shooting range. One of the only things that can mute my internal screams is shooting the sniper rifles. Putting on the headphones silences the outside world and then it’s assemble the weapon, determine the length of pull between the butt and the trigger, adjust the scope, load the ammunition, and sight the target.
Taking out moving targets is my new skill. The intensity of the focus required wipes my mind clear of anything else. For a little while, at least, my heart and brain are blissfully blank.
When I finally run out of my ammunition allotment, it’s dark outside.
“While I appreciate your dedication to your craft, even a perfectionist needs to take a break sometimes.” Professor Suarez steps into my shooting booth, looking at the digital readout for my session. “You still had a ninety percent accuracy score with five mph wind resistance on a moving target? That’s very well done, Miss Aslanova.” He glanced at me, his keen brown eyes examining me. “You don’t look like you’ve been sleeping well, rest is essential to keeping your focus.”