Chapter 19
19
Fiona
" M mm," I moan, taking the last bite of the branzino.
Amusement sparks on Kirill's face. "Glad you like it. The crew does a great job catching it when we're here."
"It's amazing how you can taste the difference when fish is fresh," I add, then finish my vodka-laced mimosa.
Matteo appears with another round of Russian Breakfast shots. He sets them on the table and then refills our mimosas. He asks, "Can I get anything else for you?"
"I'm good," I answer.
"Me, too," Kirill says.
Matteo nods. "Very good. I'll check on you in a little while." He disappears off the deck.
Kirill grabs my hand, pulls it to his lips, and kisses it, then declares, "I know a fabulous restaurant in Lisbon. What do you think about having dinner there? "
I beam with excitement. "That sounds awesome. I haven't been to Lisbon yet."
"Never?"
"No. I went to the Algarve once, though."
"Lisbon is a busy city. It's different, but you'll love it. There's a lot of art there. If you want, we can spend the night and sightsee tomorrow."
"I'd love to explore Lisbon," I gush.
"Okay, then that's what we'll do."
Sergio stops next to the table. "Sorry to interrupt, Your Majesties, but Brax is on the phone. He claims it's urgent and is in regard to the queen." He holds a phone out.
Kirill's expression goes stern. He takes it and answers, "Hello. This is Kirill," rubbing his thumb over my hand. Then he releases me, rises, and steps over to the rail, looking out over the Mediterranean.
My stomach flips. Why would Brax call about me?
Kirill snarls, "I'll kill them."
The hairs on my arms rise.
He shakes his head, listens for a few moments, then asks, "Who else is involved?"
I glance at Sergio, and I see he's wearing a scowl that's pinned on Kirill.
My husband declares, "Keep them alive and restrained until I get there. No food and only enough water to sustain them. Find out what they know."
I shiver, goose bumps raising on my skin.
Kirill warns, "I mean it, Brax. Make them talk."
Several moments pass .
Kirill's voice drops. "What do you mean they know?"
My gut churns so fast I get nauseous. I put my hand over it.
He shakes his head and states, "Thank you for informing me." He hangs up.
I rise and step beside him, place my hand on his arm, and ask, "What's wrong?"
He grinds his molars, staring at the sea.
"Please tell me. You said you wouldn't keep anything from me once we were married," I remind him.
Darkness floods his face. He turns to Sergio and orders, "Contact the flight crew. Coordinate with them the next port we can fly home from."
"Yes, sir," Sergio answers.
Kirill adds, "Have Matteo bring me Fiona's cell phone."
"Yes, sir," Sergio replies and disappears.
I repeat, "Tell me what's going on."
Kirill puts his hands on my cheeks, tilting my head up. He apologizes, "I'm sorry to have to cut our trip short. I'll make it up to you."
I demand, "Why are we going home?"
He takes a deep breath and says, "There's a plot to assassinate you."
"What?" I shriek.
He steps closer. His eyes narrow with hatred. "Don't worry. It won't happen. And I will make them pay as soon as we get home."
I gape at him, and he studies me.
I get a sinking feeling. "What else is going on? "
He strokes my cheeks with his thumbs, announcing, "Your mother and Dante know about us."
My jaw drops to the floor. I grip the railing, breathing, "What? How?"
Disapproval fills his expression. He admits, "Someone sent them photos of our wedding. The same thing happened to Sean and Zara."
"Yes, I remember. I got the photos too."
Guilt fills Kirill's sharp features. "I should have found out who sent them, but I had other pressing matters to attend to. This is my fault. I'm sorry, Fiona. I didn't want your mother to learn about us this way."
I turn toward the water and close my eyes, trying to shake off the vision of my mom upset, but I can't.
He adds, "Brax said they're flying to Chicago. I assume they've tried to contact you."
I stay silent, the blue water not in focus, still reeling inside over how badly I know my mom must be hurting.
I married a Petrov.
No one will ever understand why if I can't tell the truth.
Kirill isn't bad.
But they won't believe me when I try to convince them.
"Fiona, look at me," Kirill orders.
I slowly meet his gaze.
"I will help you make it right."
"How? You're a Petrov?" I remind him, feeling sicker by the second.
His face drops. "Yes, but we'll figure this out."
I shake my head. "You don't understand. They will never accept our marriage. Never. "
Disappointment flashes in his eyes, but he quickly masks his reaction, claiming, "We'll get them to accept us."
As much as I want to believe him, I can't. The hatred the O'Malleys, O'Connors, Marinos, and especially the Ivanovs have for the Petrovs runs deep.
Crap! Adrian's going to kill me when he finds out.
"Trust me. We'll figure this out," Kirill insists.
Matteo interrupts, "Ma'am. Your phone." He offers me my cell.
"Thank you," I reply, grabbing it and turning it on.
My insides quiver. It feels like forever before the screen lights up, and text messages and missed calls pop up for several minutes. My hand shakes.
"Come. Sit down," Kirill orders, putting his hand on my back and guiding me to the double lounger.
"There are so many," I state, watching my screen display more notifications. I sit down and watch until it finally stops, then slowly raise my head.
Kirill rubs my back, advising, "Take a deep breath."
I mumble, "This is worse than an attempt to take me out."
He snaps, "Don't ever say that again!"
My eyes widen, and I cry out, "This is my family. All the people I love!"
He sighs.
I lean against the lounger, put my feet flat on the cushion, and click on my voicemail, scrolling through them but not listening to any of them.
Kirill stays silent, watching me.
"Thirty-four voicemails!" I exclaim, my dread growing .
"I'm sorry. I take full responsibility."
"It's not your fault."
"I should have investigated who sent the photos after Sean and Zara married," he insists.
I swipe on my text messages and hit the first one.
Sean: Call me. Shit's hitting the fan.
"Such a genius," I sarcastically mutter.
Kirill arches his eyebrows.
I tilt my head, scoffing. "My brother sent me a warning text to call him because shit is hitting the fan."
Kirill's expression is neutral. He suggests, "Maybe you should call him."
I debate, then ask, "What's the point? He's not going to offer any solutions."
A moment passes, and Kirill declares, "Everyone accepted Sean and Zara's marriage. It'll just take time."
I cry out, "You're a Petrov! It's not the same thing! They'll never accept you!"
Hurt, disappointment, and a bit of anger flash over his expression. He looks away.
I soften my tone and put my hand on his thigh. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean?—"
"To tell the truth?" he interjects, pinning his pained, narrowed eyes on me.
Guilt assails me. It's not his fault he's a Petrov. What they did to him is beyond horrible. I swallow the lump in my throat.
He turns toward the sea .
I don't move, trying to figure out a solution and not hurt him further.
Sergio steps in front of the lounger. "Your Majesties." He bows.
"Yes?" Kirill replies.
Sergio informs, "I made the arrangements. We'll stop in Barcelona within a few hours."
"Thank you," Kirill says.
Sergio nods and disappears.
My phone rings, and I freeze. My heart beats a thousand miles a minute.
"Who is it?" he asks.
I swallow hard, revealing, "My mom."
My phone rings again.
"Maybe you should answer it," he suggests.
"And say what?"
The ring blares again.
"I don't know, but not hearing from you will probably hurt her further. And I didn't take my queen to be a coward."
"Coward?"
He crosses his arms and stares at me.
He's right.
In the middle of the next ring, I hit the screen. My stomach flips, and I slowly put the phone to my ear, answering, "Hey, Mom."
Her voice shakes. "Is it true?"
I blink hard, trying not to get emotional, but a tear escapes. I swipe at it and admit, "Yes. I married Kirill Petrov. "
She takes a tormented breath of air.
I close my eyes, hating how much I'm hurting her.
She clears her throat, then asks, "How did this happen, Fiona?"
My chest tightens. I take a minute to think, then decide to be honest about whatever I can tell her. I confess, "We met over a year ago. It was the night I took Zara out for her bachelorette party."
She seethes, "You've been dating him for over a year?"
"No. We didn't meet again until I ran into him at the coffee shop near Sean's building. That wasn't too long ago." My pulse skyrockets.
She shrieks, "It wasn't too long ago? And you married him?"
My insides tremble, and I open my eyes. More tears fall. "Yes. I did."
Tense silence fills the line.
She lowers her voice, accusing, "How could you marry a man you barely know?"
"It...it just happened," I lie, unable to tell her the full story and hating myself for it.
Fear laces her tone. She frets, "He's a Petrov. You don't know what you've done, Fiona."
Heart palpitations rip through my chest. I struggle to breathe, responding, "He's not like the Petrovs our families hate."
"Like hell he isn't!" she declares.
"Mom—"
"You need to get away from him, Fiona. Whatever you've done can be undone. Tell me where you're at, and we'll come get you," she orders.
I squeeze my eyes shut and press my hand to my chest. I barely get out, "It can't be undone, Mom. "
"It can! Whatever he's holding over you to have made you marry him?—"
"He didn't make me marry him! I did it with my own free will. He's a good man. You'll see. Once you get to know him?—"
"Get to know him? No! Fiona, you need to leave him," she insists.
Tears drip off my chin. I sniffle and shake my head. "Mom, I'm not leaving him. Not now, or ever."
She gasps. "Don't say that."
Silence ensues for a few moments.
She begs, "Fiona, tell me where you are. Please."
I glance at Kirill.
He studies me intently with concern shining in his eyes.
I reply, "I'll be in Chicago at some point tonight. I assume you'll be there?"
"Damn right, we'll be there," she spouts.
"I'll see you when I'm back," I inform her.
"Fiona, please. You don't know what he's capable of," she warns.
Hurt, guilt, and anger explode within me. I snap back, "Don't accuse him of things he hasn't or wouldn't do. It's not fair."
"He's a Petrov!" she exclaims.
I lift my chin, finding a new strength within me. "Yes. And he's my husband. So you will need to accept his last name, get to know him for the person he is, and not blame him for whatever his relatives have done."
She fearfully stutters, "Y-you don't know wh-what he's capable of doing. Please get away from him. "
Pain shears through me. "I'm sorry, but I won't. I'll see you in Chicago, Mom. Goodbye." I hang up before she can reply.
Several moments pass, then Kirill grabs my hand, asking, "Are you okay?"
I face him, shaking my head. "This is worse than I assumed."
My phone rings. I glance at it and groan.
Kirill pins me with the same look he gave me when he spoke about me being a coward. "You might as well get it over with, or they'll never stop calling."
I answer on the second ring, "Hi, Zara." I put it on speaker and set it on the cushion.
I can hear compassion in her voice when she says, "Dante's on the phone with Sean. You spoke with Bridget?"
I curl my arms around my shins. "Yes."
"Are you okay?"
I sigh. "My mom is never going to forgive me."
"She will," Zara insists.
Kirill strokes my back.
"No. She won't. She wants me to leave him," I state.
"Oh. I'm sorry. What can we do to help?" Zara asks.
A cloud moves, and the sun shines brightly over us, warming my skin. I release my legs and curl into Kirill, resting my head on his chest and sigh. I reply, "You tell me. But on another note, there's an assassination attempt on my life."
"What?" she shrieks.
Kirill stiffens .
I glance at him, and my lips twitch. It seems amusing to me, even though it's not. I declare, "Brax didn't tell Sean?"
"No. Not that I'm aware of, and that isn't something your brother would keep from me. Who is it?" she asks.
Kirill pipes in, "I'm not releasing that information right now, especially over the phone."
"Yes. Of course. Silly of me to ask," Zara says.
He assures, "It's okay. They're detained, and I'll deal with them when we arrive back in Chicago."
"When are you back?" she questions.
"Tonight. We're docking in Barcelona and then flying home," he answers.
"Okay. Fiona, did you get any of my messages?" she asks.
My anxiety flares again. "Not yet. Why?"
She hesitates, then reveals, "Adrian knows."
"Shit," I mutter. My insides shake so hard bile moves up my esophagus. I swallow it down.
"He's going crazy. Skylar said she tried calling you and left you texts. You might want to look at those," Zara suggests.
"Ugh," I groan, and bury my face into Kirill's arm, inhaling his scent, wishing it were a few hours ago when I was clueless about the rest of the world learning about our nuptials.
"Thanks for the update. We'll see you when we're back," Kirill says and then hangs up.
I lift my head. "This is so bad."
He picks up the phone and swipes it, then lowers his voice. "You need to read these. "
Dread floods me. I sit up and read the texts.
Skylar: Fiona, I don't know what's happening, but Adrian said you ran off and married a Petrov. Is this true?
Skylar: I didn't realize that when you said you needed to take off work for a week to deal with personal issues, it was to get married.
I cringe as I continue reading.
Skylar: Please call me. Adrian's going nuts. I need answers so I can hopefully calm him down.
I exit the thread with Skylar and go to the next set of messages.
Blue: Why is Dad saying you married a Petrov?
Blue: I'm not buying this. I looked the guy up, and he has a scar on his face. Can you call and calm my dad down before he has a heart attack?
I groan and pull up the next set.
Dante: Fiona, where are you?
Dante: Please send me your location so I can get you. Your mother and I are worried sick.
A new message pops up.
Sean: I'm sorry you have to deal with this.
Anger flares through me. He caused this and didn't create any solutions to help.
Me: No thanks to you.
Sean: I'm trying.
Me: By doing what?
Kirill asserts, "It's better to play nice with your brother. He's the only one who can help calm your mom's fears."
I grunt. "He's not getting off the hook that easily."
Sean: I'm heading to the airport to meet Mom and Dante. I'm trying the best I can.
Me: Try harder. Otherwise, Dante will try to kidnap me and lock me up to keep me away from Kirill.
Sean: No doubt.
In a stern voice, Kirill threatens, "If anyone tries to kidnap you, including Dante, they won't live to see the following day."
The ache in my core flares, mixing with panic. I blurt out, "You can't harm Dante."
"Then he better not touch you," Kirill warns.
I fight the throb growing between my legs, squeezing my thighs together, and argue, "You have to play nice."
"No one is taking my wife from me."
"Aren't you possessive?" I reprimand, but more chaos torments my lower body.
His gaze darkens as he silently studies me.
I put my hand on his thigh and gently add, "I want my family to get to know you. We're going to have to give them some leeway. "
Kirill asserts, "It doesn't include them making decisions for you or kidnapping you."
I nod. "I agree. But we have to go a bit easy on them."
He tugs me onto his lap and pushes a lock of my hair off my face. "Fiona, you aren't just my wife. You're the queen of The Underworld. You rule the Omni beside me with as much authority and power as I have. My responsibility to protect you goes beyond you being my wife."
I stay quiet, taking in his statement, still not fully comprehending what being the queen means.
He strokes my cheek, continuing, "Your father wanted you to rule. It was important to him, and I know why."
Tingles run down my spine. I ask, "Why was it so important to him? I was only a little girl when he died."
Kirill takes a moment, peers closer at me, as if he can see deep into my soul, and finally states, "He saw your light."
Confused, I question, "My light?"
He nods. "Yes. Your radiance. It dances around you, highlighting your grace, strength, and courage."
I take a deep breath, slowly releasing it.
He adds, "Not just anyone can be sitting in our spots. Your father wanted you and not Sean here. I'm convinced of it now that I'm getting to know you."
I tilt my head. "Why do you think that?"
Kirill doesn't hesitate when he says, "Second-born, two-attempts clause."
I stare at him in question, admitting, "I don't understand. "
"There are no clauses for the firstborn, only the second. That's you. Your father knew you'd sometimes have to fight with yourself to go in one direction or make a mistake and try again. That's the reality of those in power. If he wanted Sean instead of you wearing the crown, he would have created the clause for him."
"But wasn't my father the king?" I ask.
"Yes."
"So why would he think he wouldn't stay king?" I ask.
"Every royal figure eventually dies. Those who step into their shoes need to be prepared. And he constructed the tools so you'd wear the crown, not your brother. So, not only for my own selfish reasons but to honor your father, if anyone ever tries to harm you, there will be no mercy. And I won't give a fuck who they are," he warns, sending a chill down my spine, mixing with my growing ache.