He sets the tumbler down, then turns to face me with a look that will make a lesser man piss in his pants.
"Explain to me how you got drunk," he demands.
"Cherry bomb shots and champagne. I'm not one to mix my drinks, but I wanted Mariya to enjoy the night, so I drank with her."
"The only reason you're still breathing is because you're my godson and the head of the Italian mafia," he states, a deadly edge to his tone. "You know that, right?"
"Yes, sir." Not once do I break eye contact.
He takes a deep breath and seems to calm down a little. "I saw the way you looked at Mariya at the party."
"I know."
"You'll make her happy," he demands.
"I will."
"If you harm a hair on my daughter's head, I'll kill you
without hesitation."
I suppress the urge to chuckle. "I know."
Uncle Alexei pours another drink, this time sipping it slower instead of downing it. "Make it work, Luca. Mariya is stubborn, and she'll give you hell. Somehow you have to make her love you."
She already loves me.
"I don't want an annulment," I say. "I'll do my best."
Uncle Alexei nods, then the corner of his mouth lifts. "I would've killed any other fucker who tried to pull a stunt like
that, but I'm glad it's you. I know my daughter will be safe because anyone would be stupid to fuck with you." He moves closer until we're eye to eye. "Treat my baby girl like the princess she is."