“I would request you don’t call me Miss Bernardi. It feels more like a slur than anything.”

I gave her a quick nod before walking to the far wall, where the windows looked out over the front lawn. It was quiet, and the morning was clear. It was one of my favorite views outside of my own on the third floor, overlooking the back gardens.

“So, your brother decided whether to kill me or let my father do it himself.”

Turning, I looked back at this little bird. Her wings cut from birth, caged in a windowless room. “A third option has been presented by my brother.”

“Juri Baranov? Your head?”

I nodded. She waited patiently, her eyes defaulting to watching my every move as I tried to sort out my thoughts. I could imagine her outrage when I explained. Her face twisting in disgust, much like my brothers. The nail in the coffin would probably be her wanting to choose death over marrying me.

“What do you know of my family?” I figured I would put it off as long as I could.

Rosaria seemed to catch what I was doing, but she answered my question. “Ivano Baranov was the previous head of the Baranov until he died seventeen years ago of health complications. He had six children. Juri Baranov, forty-seven, who is the current head. He is married to Felicity Baranov, and they have three children. Next is Kamilia Petrov, forty-six, married into the Petrov Bratva but he is the second son, and he moved from Russian to New York. No children. She is one of the most elite doctors in the world, but her bedside manner is something to be desired.”

I snorted and sat down on the couch that was near the windows. “I can agree with you on that.”

“Next is Kazmer Baranov, forty-four, married to Sachi Baranov, who was previously rumored to be connected to the yakuza by blood, but nothing is confirmed. They have two children. Lev Baranov, forty-three, married to Sheena Baranov, who was the daughter of the previous head of the Irish mafia. They currently have five children, and congratulations, I guess, is in order since twins were born.”

Her information was impressive. It was like she was reading a file on us. All facts, not emotions. Also, no back story. She paused for a moment before her eyes wandered to the window.

“Marek Baranov, thirty-nine, never married and no children. Last, Bronya Petrov, thirty-seven, married Vladimir Petrov, part of the Petrov sect of the Russian Bratva. They have one child on the way.”

My eyebrows shot up. “What?”

“Your sister is pregnant?” Her reply came as a question, cocking her head slightly to the side.

I grumbled. “Well, she didn’t fucking tell us.”

“Sorry? Congratulations on being an uncle again?”

I nodded, rubbing my chin. Bronya was going to get it after this. I’d tell my sister-in-laws and let them attack her. The fact that Rosaria knew meant that she had some updated information, at least within the past few months. Her father was keeping a close eye on us even when he wasn’t attacking. Juri would want to know.

“What else do you know? What do you know of our Bratva?”

There was a moment of silent contemplation from her before she answered. “You are enemies of my father. Your father and my father butted heads on most, if not all, issues. It came to a head when your father’s cousin, Alena, died. Your father blamed my father, and any chance of peace was destroyed.”

“Did your father kill her?”

Her mouth dipped in a frown. “Yes and no. Do I believe my father was the reason she died? Yes, absolutely. Did he kill her himself? No. Your cousin was more of a mother to me than my own. But one day, she was hanging from the ceiling in our family room when some of us kids came home from school.”

My eyes widened. We had never been told how our cousin died. She was right about saying that our father refused to think that anyone other than Carlo was responsible for her death.

“What else?”

There was now something specific I was wondering. Trying to lay the groundwork for this option.

“From what I’ve heard, your Bratva is fair. Your men respect their leadership. There is a level of fear but not cruelty. While you all, well, all your siblings married into families that would secure the future of the Bratva, it wasn’t forced. But agreed upon by all parties.”

Nodding, this is what I wanted her to get at.

Rosaria continued. “You pride your connection to your family above all else. Both blood and non-blood. Is there a reason you’re asking me this? I can better tell you what I know if there is a more concise question.”

I wondered if that was the frustration I was hearing in her voice. “Yes, there is a reason, but not what you think.” Taking a deep breath, I leaned forward and laced my fingers together. “My brother advised that there is a way you could live and not go back to your father.”

Her eyebrow rose. “Even if I ran, he would find me. Plus, he would trace me back to who helped…”

Shaking my head, I held her gaze. “We would get married.”

She blinked once, twice, and then a third time. I waited as her eyes shifted slightly, taking in the information and processing it.

“We…would marry.” She repeated back to me, and I nodded.

Her frown stayed on her face. “You have never married. There must be a reason for that.”

Sighing, I closed my eyes for a moment. “Few people know the entirety of what happened.” I felt myself going back in time, remembering the pain that had once sent me spiraling out of control.

“Our family grew up together with other bratva, mafia, and cartel families. Many of the leaders now were once childhood friends that we raced around with under the tables in ballrooms. Stealing drinks of champagne while ignoring our parents.” The memories were happy even within the pain and volatile time that was my childhood. “Specifically, one girl grew up as my best friend; Maria Ramirez.”

“The Ramirez Cartel?”

I nodded. “Maria was two years older than me, but we were attached to the hip. When I was twelve, I knew I was in love with her. I protected her, lavished upon her, spoiled her every chance I got. Originally, our fathers set up so that Juri would be betrothed to her. But my father advised hers that I was head over heels. They agreed that she and I would marry.

As we grew up, I continued my passion for lavishing upon her. Taking her out, showing her off as my betrothed. However, the young girl I’d grown up attached to changed when she hit sixteen. She garnered men’s attention, not just mine, and Maria lived for it. She was seen out with many men, expensive gifts finding their way to her as she flaunted her body.”

My eyes never lifted from the ground. “I continued to love her. Knowing that no matter what, these men were flings, nothing more. I was to be her forever, and she was mine. However, when I turned eighteen, we officially were engaged. For the first time, I saw something in her eyes. Not hatred, but resentment. The following months, I killed five men. All of which I’d confirmed touched her. Touched my fiancé.” It still slightly stung to tell.

“I pleaded with her to stop, that she was to be faithful, just as I had always been. She scoffed at me. It was the first time she put me down for being the last in line with my family. Our engagement was to be two years and when I turned nineteen, I found out on my birthday she had joined an orgy in France. That was when I took it to her father.”