Mixed blood

Chapter 33: In blood and loyalty.

The next morning, Luana woke with a hammering head.

She took a hot shower and dressed in blue slacks, a silk blouse tucked in perfectly, and heels.

She picked up her phone and dialed Nikolai herself.

"We need to finish our discussion."

"Of course," Nikolai purred on the other end. "I was hoping you'd call."

They arranged a meeting. Neutral territory—a sleek, upscale restaurant the Romeros sometimes used for private business.

Her driver pulled up, and she slid into the car without looking back at the mansion behind her.

William found out less than an hour later.

Diego approached him hesitantly. "Will, thought you should know... Luana set a meeting with Nikolai."

William's blood turned to ice.

Where? When? What the hell was she thinking?

The fury was instant, a hot coil in his gut. His mind ran wild with possibilities—Nikolai whispering sweet offers, undermining the Russos, twisting Luana's anger against him.

If he went after her now, publicly, he'd make a scene. He'd undermine both their authority. He'd prove everything she accused him of last night—that he didn't trust her to walk the line, that he saw her as a pawn, not a partner.

No.

He had to let her move.

Had to let her play her hand.

Even if it was a knife pointed straight at his throat.

She knew that.

She was daring him to cross that line.

She had the power right now—and she knew exactly how sharp to twist it.

---

At the restaurant, Luana arrived first.

She sat with her back straight, legs crossed. When Nikolai approached, smiling like he already thought he'd won, she didn't return the smile. She gestured for him to sit, the queen summoning a subject.

This time, she led the conversation.

This time, she drew the terms.

And she knew that somewhere, William Russo was pacing, seething, imagining every worst-case scenario.

Good.

Let him feel it.

Let him burn a little.

Because Luana Romero wasn't anyone's to control.

Not even his.

She negotiated with a grace that left even Nikolai leaning back in awe.

Every counteroffer she made was calculated. She didn't yield once unless it served her. She knew exactly when to press and when to relent, weaving the conversation in a way that tightened the net around Nikolai without him even noticing until he was nodding along in agreement.

By the time papers were signed, Nikolai poured them each a glass of wine. "You're impressive. I've negotiated with men twice your age who didn't have half your instincts."

Luana lifted her glass slightly in acknowledgment, but she didn't preen under the compliment. She didn't have to. She knew her worth.

They talked lightly at first—about trade routes, the shifting alliances in the south, the upcoming council votes. But then, inevitably, the conversation veered into more personal waters. Eventually, it turned to the elephant in the room: her marriage.