“We all want happiness for our children,” Papa says. “And we want security for their children. I believe an agreement can be reached, for territory and rights, that would benefit us all.”

“That is my wish as well,” Yenin says.

While he’s talking, I’m looking at his men as well as Yenin himself. Watching to see if they give away anything in their expressions that betrays Yenin’s words.

Though Adrian was so cordial the first time we met, he looks irritated today. He doesn’t meet my eye, but stares down at the tabletop, scowling. Maybe he’s unhappy at the thought of “losing” his sister. I know how close they are.

Rodion’s expression is impossible to read. He keeps his jaw tightly clenched, probably because he’s effectively mute, and therefore doesn’t open his mouth very often. Yelena told me that his old boss cut out his tongue. Maybe he hates the idea of anyone glimpsing that humiliating injury.

Timur looks nervous and twitchy. He’s the youngest of the Russians, with a smooth face and a slim build. He keeps looking across the table at Nero and then dropping his eyes again, cowed by Nero’s furious stare.

It takes over an hour for Papa and Yenin to work out the precise terms of the agreement. They argue over a few of the particulars, but in general, Yenin is surprisingly amenable to the terms.

The only point on which he won’t budge is that he insists the wedding take place immediately.

He fixes his cool blue eyes on me from across the table, his face unsmiling.

“You may consider us old-fashioned,” he says, “but the purity of our daughters is of high value to the Bratva. Were someone to take my daughter’s virtue . . . then leave her defiled, without a husband . . . that would be a grievous insult.”

He stares at me with a cold anger that assures me that he knows I took his daughter’s virginity. The implication is that he’ll forgive my lack of patience, as long as I rectify the transgression at once.

Papa looks over at me, eyebrow raised. Yelena and I have only been dating two months.

I don’t care. I know who she is. And I know what I want.

I nod my head. “Let’s set the date,” I say.

Nero writes up two copies of the formal contract. His script is swift and slanted, but surprisingly legible. He leaves space at the bottom for Yenin and my father to sign.

They each write their names twice: once on my father’s copy, once on Yenin’s. Then Nero hands my father his knife, and Papa slits the ball of his thumb with the razor-sharp blade. He presses his thumbprint onto the bottom of both pages.

Yenin does the same, cutting his flesh without flinching. He makes his marks right next to Papa’s.

This is a blood oath—a tradition older than the Italian mafia or the Bratva. It’s our most solemn promise. We’re allies now, and Yelena and I will be married, with no option to back out.

I feel no sense of fear as I add my own prints and my own signatures.

Actually, I’m flushed with triumph.

Yelena is mine.

12

Yelena

As soon as Papa steps out of the armored car, I see the contract in his hand, rolled up and sealed with his ring. My heart flutters wildly. He made a deal with the Gallos.

I can’t believe it.

I knew he was going to meet them, but I didn’t believe he’d actually agree to an alliance. I was sure something would happen to make it all blow up.

But there’s the evidence, clear and irrevocable. This was no verbal agreement—he made a blood pact.

I’m up in my room, looking down from my window. I debate whether I should run down to thank him, or whether I should steer clear for a while. He might be in a foul mood, depending on how well the negotiations went.

Even under the best of circumstances, I can’t imagine that he’s thrilled about this. The Gallos could give him their most generous terms, and he’d still feel like a subordinate, forced to pay homage to the throne. He wanted revenge, not capitulation.

Adrian looks equally annoyed, stalking toward the house with his hands thrust in his trouser pockets. I expect him to come up to my room to speak with me, but instead he disappears inside our father’s office for several hours, along with Rodion. I’m sure they’re going over the details of how this new contract will work.

I pick up my phone to call Sebastian, noticing that I already have a text from him.

It worked, he says. Come see me tonight.

I clutch my phone almost hard enough to break it, trembling with excitement.

I want to . . . I say. My father might not be in the best of moods . . .

That doesn’t matter anymore, Sebastian replies. He promised you to me. You’re safe now.

The relief I feel at those words is immeasurable. Sebastian is right—I don’t belong to my father anymore. If he were to hurt or damage me now, he’d be breaking his agreement with the Gallos.

Thrilled beyond belief, I start to change my clothes. I put on a sage-green romper and a pair of gold hoops, and slip on my sandals. I pull on a kimono-style wrap over the romper, in case my father sees me on my way out the door.

Sure enough, he intercepts me in the lobby. He has the ears of a cat—it’s almost impossible to sneak out of the house unseen when he’s home. Adrian stands just behind him, his face pale and somber.

“I assume Sebastian told you that we reached an agreement,” Papa says.

“Yes,” I say, trying not to let my full emotion show on my face. I want to be grateful, but I don’t want to annoy my father with something as distasteful to him as my complete and utter happiness.

“I expect you to remember your loyalties, Yelena. Even after you say your vows at the altar . . . you are still a Yenin. You always will be.”

“Yes, father,” I say.

I wonder if he can see the lie on my face. I have no loyalty to him. I will always love my brother, but I intend to cut ties with my father as much as possible, as soon as I’m wed.

Adrian will know I’m lying. I glance over at him, to see if he’s scowling. As soon as I try to meet his eye, he looks down at his feet instead.

“Is it alright . . . if I go see Sebastian?” I ask my father hesitantly.

“Why not?” he says, surprisingly amenable. “Enjoy your time with him.”

I don’t entirely trust this good mood. But I might as well take advantage of it while it lasts.

“Thank you, father,” I say.

I leave on foot, hurrying out through the open gates, down to the street. I walk a few blocks over to the cafe where Sebastian and I agreed to meet.

He’s already waiting for me outside the cafe. As I walk up to him he sweeps me up in his arms and kisses me hard.

“How did it go?” I ask him, as he sets me down.

“I wish you were there,” he says. “I felt like an asshole signing for you like I was buying a car.”

“It doesn’t matter,” I say, shaking my head. “This is what I want.”

“Are you sure?” Sebastian says.

I see the concern in his dark eyes. He’s afraid I’m only doing all this to get away from my father.

I grab his hand and squeeze it hard.