She blinked innocent eyes at me. “I was just going to fix your tie clip. It’s crooked.”

“No, it’s not,” I said confidently, without even looking.

She tried to pull her hand away, but I held onto it just because I could. Just because she was so fucking soft. I ran my thumb across her palm. She shivered and wrenched it away.

She did her makeup in the mirror on the way to the airstrip, while I pretended my blood didn’t thrum in approval at having her in my space, even doing such mundane, non-dick-related things like applying mascara.

A frown pulled on her lips when she took in the private jet. “Please, tell me this plane doesn’t belong to the Bureau.”

“This plane doesn’t belong to the Bureau.”

“Liar.”

As we boarded the jet, she muttered something about getting a rash.

The blonde flight attendant smiled and greeted Gianna, but it felt like an unnaturally long time for her to meet my gaze and nervously ask if she could hang up my jacket. She disappeared with my jacket in tow, while Gianna rolled her eyes.

“You don’t even notice the way women act in front of you, do you?”

“I notice everything you do, malyshka.”

She stilled and held my heavy stare for a moment before looking away. “Who’s paying for this private plane ride? My tax dollars?”

I took a seat on the white-leather couch, watching her move around and touch everything in sight. “You have to make an income to pay taxes.”

“I do. I’m an . . . entrepreneur.”

“You’re a gambler,” I corrected dryly.

“Same thing, really.”

“Why does your father want your attendance at this wedding?”

She picked up an FBI paperweight to examine it. “For nefarious reasons, I’m sure.”

“Elaborate.”

She swallowed. “I’m a single woman now.”

“Are you?” I didn’t know why that question came out like a threat.

She flicked a hesitant gaze to me. “Yes. He probably wants to remedy it.”

I knew at that moment she’d never marry another goddamn man but me. And she wouldn’t marry me. “And if he does?”

“I told you, I won’t ever marry again.”

She would leave. The life, the city, me.

The irrational thought that I wouldn’t be able to find her sent an icy rush of panic through me. And I could find fucking anyone.

I’d never let her leave.

I didn’t care if I had to handcuff the little fugitive to my headboard.

The vow seared itself through my body, settling itself deep, and calmed the rush of blood in my veins.

She sat on the chair opposite me and flipped open a fashion magazine. “How are you going to explain why you’re with me?”

You’re mine. And I go where you go.

“No one will question me.”

My phone vibrated in my pocket, and I pulled it out.

Aleksandra: Father wants to have dinner soon.

Frustration ran through me. Sergei would only talk to me through his daughter. I was surprised he hadn’t paraded her naked in front of me and offered to let me fuck her yet, as motivated as he seemed about this alliance. He wanted to dip his hands in the American underworld while still maintaining his traditional Russian values, and, apparently, a tie with me was the way to do it.

The Russian government had upped regulations on border security, and Sergei just happened to have most of that security in his pocket. I didn’t give a shit about Russian politics anymore, but unfortunately, the only relative I had left did.

After being released from the overcrowded cells of Butyrka at nineteen, I’d come to the States, while Ronan chose to stay in Moscow as a measly enforcer in the Bratva. Fifteen years later, he owned his own empire. But he still had a more hands-on approach to getting what he wanted, while delegation—and a bit of manipulation—was a better fit to win over Sergei Popov.

I texted Aleksandra back to tell her I was free on Friday and then slid my phone in my pocket. When I drew my attention back to Gianna, it was to see her chewing her lip, her olive complexion a shade paler.

She was scared of her papà.

It sent a rush of anger through me.

The only one she should be nervous of was me.

“Voy kak volk, malyshka.” Howl like a wolf.

Her soft eyes flicked to me. They burned a small hole in my chest.

“Voy kak volk,” she whispered.

She’d said it right.

And I suddenly knew I was going to keep her.

I hadn’t set foot in a church in years. And not even because I thought I’d be smote down where I stood, but because they were either too hot, too dusty, or too pretentious. The magnanimous atmosphere practically swallowed you whole when you entered, yet not a single church had ever fed me a scrap of food when I was thirteen, starving, and humbling myself enough to beg.

Gianna’s family nearly knocked her over with hugs and a ridiculous number of kisses as soon as we stepped into the church. She was flushed, wearing a genuine smile I never got from her. One of her aunts glanced at me, fanned herself vigorously with her wedding program, and then looked at Gianna and mouthed, “Madonna.”

Gianna sighed and glanced at me. “This is . . . ah—”

I remained silent and let her struggle just because I wanted to see what she would say, but, unfortunately, she was interrupted by a cavalier voice behind us.

“Allister.”

Gianna tensed.

I slid a hand to her waist and turned toward her father.

“Saul,” I said, the name familiar on my lips.

I didn’t look at her, but the betrayed gaze I could feel on my face sent an odd tightness to my chest.

“I didn’t expect your presence today.” Saul’s eyes drifted to my hand on Gianna’s waist. “And with my daughter, no less.”

“You’d think a man your age would have learned to expect the unexpected by now.”

Gianna sucked in an uneasy breath.

It was a cheap insult, but I’d learned over the years that cheap got the quickest results.

Saul’s expression didn’t falter as he held my gaze. But, as his eyes finally drifted to his daughter, his next words came clipped with the slightest clench of his teeth. “I’d like to talk with you at home before the reception, Gianna.”

“I’d love to, but . . . I swear, our schedule has been filling so fast I can hardly keep up with it.” She blinked at me. “Do you think we’ll have time, Christian?”

I wanted to smile. To kiss her for being such a good little wolf. Instead, I only said, “I think we can fit it in.”

Uncertainty crossed her expression.

I liked Gianna’s father about as much as I’d liked Antonio. Accepting a hit on their heads would have been a vacation for me. But if Gianna didn’t deal with him now, he’d keep coming back until he got whatever he wanted.

“I’m glad to see you can spare a few minutes for your papà.” A subtle threat flickered in Saul’s eyes. “Until then, cara mia.” The tightly-reined venom in his voice drifted past us as he headed up the aisle to take a seat at his pew.

Gianna was internally shaken but was hiding it well. Her anger? Not so much.