Chapter 14 #2
I huffed and angled farther away from Kirill and looked out the window while I spoke, “Look. I don’t know what you expect from me. Being your wife didn’t exactly come with an instruction manual.”
“You’re making it sound like you married a cyborg.”
I wasn’t rising to his bait. I wanted him to forget my existence, but telling him that might backfire. I was doing so well. It only affected Kirill if it made it to public opinion. It was my humiliation, not his.
We were saved from further conversation when Sato pulled into a coffee drive-thru. He even got me a breakfast burrito. Good man.
“Thank you, Sato, I was starving.”
Kirill didn’t eat anything. He was sipping his coffee while scrolling through his phone. We made it to the house without further arguing.
When the vehicle pulled in front of the house, I expected Kirill to follow me, but he got out and walked toward his Porsche.
He picked me up only to drop me on the front steps and abandon me again?
But I held my tongue as our eyes clashed across the driveway.
“Check your calendar,” he said. “It’s time for you to behave like my wife.”
I fished out my phone, and it took all of my control not to drop my jaw. At least two events were booked a week for at least six weeks.
What the hell? I glanced up to see Kirill’s arrogant smirk. I shot him a glare that would have fried him if it were laser beams.
Staying out of his way had ended.
It had been three weeks of accompanying Kirill to events, but it was turning out he brought me along not for my company, but to up the ante of my humiliation.
We never arrived together or left together, always having Sato as my driver.
No. He would meet me at the fundraiser or the gala, spend a maximum of ten minutes beside me and then abandon me to chat with his associates and other women who seemed to get the message that Kirill didn’t find his wife interesting at all.
So now my humiliation wasn’t simply on paper or spoken behind my back, it was among a crowd of people and announced to his peers.
But I was adaptable. I turned shit into gold. I used these events for my networking.
Tonight was a high-stakes poker game. So, it wasn’t unusual that the non-players were socializing outside of the poker rooms. I put my eavesdropping to good use.
More than a few weren’t even aware I was Kirill’s wife, and I was good at becoming an ornament in the background.
Just wear a simple black dress. Nothing too flashy that would invite, “oooh, who’s the designer?
” question and appear to always be eating and too busy to be bothered with extended small talk.
But I discovered that the best source of information was the staff.
I recognized a few. It seemed that any bratva-sponsored poker games employed the same people to keep a stringent background check.
I’d been to three, and I’d become buddies with Edwin—the buy-in cashier.
With all the buy-ins recorded, he was in and out of the game rooms, probably to catch a break from the smoke and a relaxing drink for himself.
I sauntered over to him at the bar while asking for another glass of wine.
“Mrs. Zahkarova, you’re looking beautiful.”
I shot him a dazzling smile. “You’re always good for my ego. How’s the baby?”
He had a six-month-old boy.
“We finally slept through the night, thank God.” He grinned. “When will you and Mr. Zahkarov have kids?”
“We’re waiting. He needs to have fewer of these late nights…” I winked at him.
He laughed. “At least now he brings you.”
“Yes, he always complains he has business to do, but he hopes he’ll have breathing room soon so we can finally go on that honeymoon.” I pouted. “I want to go to Dubai. I heard it’s gorgeous and so modern there.”
“Shop till you drop.” He tipped his chin toward the poker room. “Who knows, Mr. Ahmed might bet one of his properties and you’ll have a mansion or an entire building all to yourself.”
“Unless my husband loses…”
Edwin laughed. “Mr. Zahkarov is one of the better players, believe me. As for Mr. Bryant, he keeps doubling down.”
He was referring to the finance guy in the super-high-stakes room.
One thing I was good at was keeping track of threads of conversation from previous intel gathering. “I don’t think his hedge fund will appreciate that.”
Edwin shook his head. “He’s trying to impress Mr. Ahmed.”
So he’d invest with him. Meanwhile, the Swiss tech millionaire Hanziker stepped out of the room. He looked so out of place in this crowd. His unruly blond hair, almost white; lanky build; and thick black square frames that screamed nerd more than card shark.
“And him?” I nodded to Hanziker. “Does he even play? He’s always circling the buffet and butting into huddles.”
“He just wants to be seen.” Edwin shook his head again. “I don’t think he’s a serious player.”
We continued to chat and exchange seemingly innocuous conversation. I never dug too deep, just skimmed the surface to validate information on my targets. So far, I had found nothing I could use to blackmail Kirill.
“You look stunning tonight, Lucy,” a brittle voice said behind me.
I stiffened, turning to face Anya. I hadn’t received any videos or pictures from Mr. Anonymous ever since Kirill started requiring my presence at these events. Made me wonder if it was Anya behind all this.
“Anya,” I said tightly. “You’ve recovered, I hope?”
Edwin quickly excused himself.
She accepted a glass of champagne from the bartender and sipped. “Despite the way you glammed up, Kirill still leaves you alone, doesn’t he?”
“That’s your perception…”
She leaned forward. “I’ll always mean more to him than you.”
“If that’s the case, then I don’t see why you need to remind me.”
“He married you to protect me. But he always planned to humiliate you by making you look pitiful as the abandoned wife.”
“Oh, I don’t know if that’s a terrible deal.” I sipped my wine. “I’m the one wearing the family diamond. His babushka’s ring?”
Color climbed Anya’s cheeks. It was a guess, but it appeared I’d hit the mark. There was nothing more important or desired by a woman with Anya’s heritage than the coveted family heirloom because it symbolized what her place was in the life of the man she was obsessed with.
Slashing her wrists on my wedding night left no question just how obsessed she was with Kirill.
“He will never love you.” Her fingers whitened around the flute of champagne, so much so I feared the glass would shatter in her hand. But her beautiful face cracked into the ugly lines of a woman eaten up by jealousy. Who knew snarling lips could transform a face so efficiently?
I didn’t know her entire story with Kirill. Was she a victim of the Russian mafia? “If you think I married Kirill for love, then you’re the pathetic one.”
Her eyes flashed; her mouth curled further into a hideous sneer. If we were best friends, I would tell her it wasn’t a good look.
I gave a brief, derisive snort. “Not all of us are attracted to overbearing men.”
It was then said overbearing man exited the high-stakes room. His eyes scanned the space and narrowed when he spotted Anya with me. It must have been my imagination, but all chatter ceased around us.
He headed our way, and I braced for the ultimate public humiliation. I was helpless to control the burning of my cheeks and the acceleration of my heartbeat. I’d chalk it up to the wine.
His eyes darted between me and Anya, and I realized I’d been exhaling shaky breaths while rooted to the spot, dreading the oncoming train wreck.
He was going to pick her. I was sure.
But Kirill veered to my side and picked up my hand.
What?
He even linked our fingers like lovers do and kissed the top of my head. “I’m sorry, Lusenka. Are you bored?”
“Not really,” I managed a squeaked answer.
Get ahold of yourself, Lucy!
“Anya, I think you’ve had enough alcohol and should go home,” Kirill said mildly.
Something passed between them, and it irked me more than Anya confronting me because it signaled a secret language. Her already flattened mouth tightened as if she were holding on to her words before she spun around and headed to the facilities.
“What did she say to you?”
I shrugged, gathering a semblance of nonchalant composure even when the tense muscles of my shoulders refused to relax in relief. It was hard to let my guard down when Kirill was around and seemed to have changed tactics.
“You married me to protect her.”
“You handled that well.”
“I had weeks of practice. Are you done?”
He tugged me along and smirked. “Night’s early. No, I’m having the worst luck, and I need you.”
I need you.
My heart somersaulted. Jeez, Lucy. He’s a manipulator, remember?
The attention of the entire room was on us until Kirill led me into the card room. The smoke gagged me even with the oxygen pumping into it. It was as refreshing as a dumpster fire.
“If you think I’m going to bring you luck, then you must have hit your head and sustained a brain injury.”
He glanced down at me. “I’ll take my chances.”
What? He said that in a flirty tone.
“Are you high?” I whispered.
He chuckled. “No, I’m not.” When we reached the table, Kirill dragged a chair next to an existing empty one. “Gentlemen, my wife’s joining us.”
I recognized the boss of the Cassano crime family and an Armenian arms dealer. To the right of him was a guy whose name I was certain was Vasquez. He was cartel. These men didn’t come in through the front entrance. They were sneaked in through a secret one.
“So the king brings his queen,” the Italian said. “How’s your brother and uncle, Lucy?”
“That’s Mrs. Zahkarova to you, Cassano.” Kirill’s easy tone from earlier frosted over. “Deal me back in.” And just like that, it was back to business.
The Cassano crime family’s kingdom was New Jersey. They were in a cold war with most of the New York Five Families but were allied with the Zahkarov bratva.
I wondered how my marriage to Kirill affected their partnership.