Chapter Twenty-Seven
In which the best way to stop a panic attack is with the use of targeted insults.
Liria…
Caroline leaves the next day.
This is fortunate because I look like I'd just got back from a vacation at some dude ranch out west. I thought the line about walking bowlegged after getting railed within an inch of my life was a joke, and now I’m walking exactly like that.
Alexsey takes me over to say goodbye to her.
"So, Idiots One and Two are staying here," she says, darting around the enormous suite like a dragonfly, picking up random clothes and snacks.
She had to buy another carry-on to fit all the goodies she's sourced from every bodega in the five boroughs.
"Your husband agreed to keep them on, some low-level shit until the Pakhan thinks they're worthy.
" She laughs. "Like that's ever going to happen. "
The door to her bedroom opens and Tolya staggers out, wincing in the bright room. I've never seen him other than perfectly suited and pristinely groomed. He's got a scratch that runs down his neck and his hair is sticking straight up, like someone grabbed it and held on.
"Oh." He spots me, looking pained. "I don't suppose we could keep this among ourselves?"
"No problem," I smile pleasantly, which doesn't seem to reassure him. "But I would suggest taking the stairs. The last time I saw him, Alexsey was talking to one of the guards by the elevator."
Painfully shrugging on his suit jacket, he takes Caroline's chin in a gentle grasp. "Are you sure you wouldn't like to stay longer, Malen'kaya zmey?"
Those words I recognize. "Little serpent?" I mouth at Caroline, who shrugs one shoulder.
"You need some time to recover, babe," she says, pulling her chin free and stuffing the little soaps and shampoos from the bathrooms in her carry-on. "You know, rest up, restore your fluids. I'll be around."
The doorman patiently waits for us to go through three rounds of, "I love you!"
"Text me when you get home!"
"I hope my brothers don't get murdered for being morons!"
And my last, whispered in her ear: "I'm going to need all the details about what you did to that poor man. He's limping."
Alexsey joins me. "That woman is dangerous."
I try and fail to stifle my laughter. "You have no idea." He chuckles lightly, sliding a casual arm around my waist. Like people who feel something for each other do. Like a husband and wife.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see two of my father's thugs slide into a car, pulling away from the curb. "Hey, are those two on the clock with you?" My heart's thumping hard enough to echo in my ears.
They have to stop for a jaywalker, laying on the horn as the woman strolling across the street flips them off, so he gets a good look.
"I recognize them," he says with a frown. "I've seen their files, but we haven't put them to work yet."
"One of them- The one in the passenger side. Don't use him." My vision is tunneling.
"Who are those fuckers?" Alexsey says, low, and furious.
"Bujar Krasniqi, he's a special kind of bastard.
" Roan takes my hand, squeezing it gently.
"Let's talk later. For now, you must breathe, Miss Liria.
Come now, breathe in… hold it, good… let it out.
Again." He always seems to know when he's pulled me from the jaws of an impending panic attack, and the perfect time to strike.
"Thank god you're back," he says with a look of deep displeasure.
"We have lunch plans and I was looking forward to that seafood paella.
Have your panic attacks on your own time, if you please. "
Alexsey looks like he's about to punch out all of my bodyguard's teeth, so I lace my fingers through his. "This is standard Roan, kind until he knows I'm out of it and then insults me because he knows it makes me laugh. It's okay, I promise."
My husband doesn't look convinced, muttering something about "unacceptable security protocol," but the moment's over and we get into the Bentley.
"How are you feeling?" Alexsey's thumb is running over the bare skin of my shoulder, sliding under my tank top.
"I'm okay," I force a smile, humiliated that I couldn't hold it together in front of him. I don't want Alexsey thinking he's got the kind of wife who folds under stress. "I just didn't expect to see him. I thought he'd be back in Albania, feasting on the raw flesh of kittens."
"We've been going through the ranks of your father's soldiers," he says. "Some, we've isolated until we get a better sense of their usefulness. Some, we…"
He hesitates but Roan doesn't.
"Back of the head, shallow grave?" he asks pleasantly.
"Don't insult me," Alexsey says haughtily. "The graves are very deep."
Roan gives a well-bred chuckle. "I don't know many of the men Krasniqi's shipped over here for your inspection.
But I do know that Bujar deserves a bullet.
You'll have to be careful. He's a Krasniqi, a second or third cousin, I believe.
You might have to wait until the old man has slipped this mortal coil to do the job. "
My bodyguard wasn't joking about one thing, we're having the house special at the legendary El sabor del hogar, The Taste of Home.
"You don't have to be Spanish to be homesick for this place.
Once you try the seafood paella, you will never be the same," Alexsey says, effortlessly shifting the conversation back to safe, normal topics.
"We're meeting Nikandr, our new Sovietnik and Dmitri. They want to ask you some questions."
"What?" I'd been sold on a simple lunch date. "Do you remember that I know exactly nothing about my father's day to day business?"
"Now, sweetheart," he whispers as he escorts me into the restaurant. "Be a good girl and I'll take you home and lick all that soreness away."
"Oh, my god," I moan, praying the hostess didn't hear him.
Dmitri and Nikandr both rise to greet us, politely shaking my hand with all the Morozov courtesy and none of the warmth.
I guess the girls haven't made much headway with their husbands.
We're escorted into a back room with gorgeous, brilliantly colored artwork and old-fashioned Spanish tile.
The bodyguards fan out to surround the room as a smiling, older man with a big moustache and an even bigger white apron comes in to greet us.
"My friends!" His arms stretch out wide with the kind of enthusiasm one usually sees in sailors coming home after a six deployment.
"Hello, Mateo," Dmitri shows actual warmth and friendliness. "We're looking forward to whatever you're cooking today."
"I am so happy that you have finally decided to trust my excellent instincts," he says, straightening his apron. "We have new friends today?" He comes at me, beaming, his hand outstretched.
Alexsey intercepts him. "Mateo, this is my bride, Liria Morozova."
Bride? A little shiver goes through me like I'm a fourteen-year-old girl. But bride, it sounds so much more affectionate, like there might have been a happy moment, versus the grim signing of documents.
Hope is tapdancing back onto my mood board, accompanied by Lust.
"A pleasure, dear!" He looks like he's moving in for a kiss, but a quick glance at Alexsey and he changes his mind, vigorously shaking my hand. "I hope you will call me Martin, as we are now friends," he says earnestly.
"Uh, I thought you said your name was Mateo?" I ask awkwardly.
He shrugs, humming a little. "Sometimes. Now, to the paella!" Our host makes his way out of the room.
Raising an eyebrow, I turn to the men. "Mateo is… fanciful," Nikandr says.
"He's crazier than a shithouse rat," Dmitri says bluntly. "But he cooks like the fate of the free world depends on it."
"Fanciful or crazy?" I ask.
"Eh, Mateo, Motahto," Alexsey shrugs.
"Is that like potato, potahto but not funny?" I murmur. Dmitri and Nikandr are back in deep conversation and my husband chooses this moment to gently pat my ass.
"Someone's feeling feisty," he whispers, and his hand resting on my butt squeezes it firmly. I stifle a yelp. "This afternoon could be a never-ending round of orgasms, or I can tie you up and edge you until you cry."
Are we doing this? I think, a little giddy. Dirty comments about sex like there's going to be a lot more of it?
Then, my mood is abruptly dashed when Dmitri fans out a pile of photos with the skill of a blackjack dealer. "Before Mateo-"
"It's Martin today," Nikandr interrupts him as Alexsey smothers a laugh. He helped me into a chair and takes the one next to mine, draping his arm around the back of it.
"We know you've had very little to do with your father's business," Dmitri says, ignoring them, "but there's been a lot of movement in the last six months, especially bringing men in from Albania.
Your father would be very likely to add them into the security roster at your mother's home so they didn't attract much attention.
Two men got away from your brother's attack on us at the restaurant.
We'd like to see if you recognize them."
"You, though, are here." Marc Canton, cornering me in that meeting room. "So, I'm going to make you pay for it."
"Liria?" Alexsey murmurs it, leaning in closer, blocking his brother and cousin from view. "Do you need a moment to breathe?"
Straightening up, I focus on my hands, not letting them shake. "I'm fine."
"Let's get this out of the way," Alexsey snaps. "If you recall, my wife was attacked last week."
Both men have the grace to look chagrined. They still push the photos at me, though.
With a shaky sigh, I try to concentrate, moving the photos under a hanging pendant lamp for better light. I sift through them for a moment.
"That one." I point to a stocky blonde man in an ill-fitting suit. "My mom didn't want him patrolling inside the house. She had some say about that, at least."
Tapping the picture of a darker, swarthier man with a nasty smile, "And this guy, he was there at my place on the day they threw everything I own in boxes and took them away. I think he was working under Bujar."
"Who?" Dmitri asks.
"Bujar Krasniqi." My lips are numb. I take a sip of water.
"Too far down the line of descendants to be considered as the Krye of the family business.
Father was such a snob about that. But Bujar loved every dirty job.
Anything that involved torture, murder. The fact that he's still here in New York is not good.
He would never bend the knee to a Morozov. "
Nikandr is making notes on his phone. "So, he'd never be a part of any transfer of power."
"No," I take another drink but my throat stays as parched as tissue paper. "Logically, he should be trying to get a job with whatever Fare he hasn't managed to piss off. The Krasniqi Fare may have been the biggest in Albania, but there's always others."
"Always," Dmitri agrees, rubbing his eyes. "You've given us a lot to work with, Liria. Thank you."
As if on cue, Mateo - Martin - bustles through the door as Dmitri smoothly sweeps the photos back into his briefcase.
I listen to Mateo rhapsodize about the mussels, clams, and chorizo sausage in the paella.
"One must listen for a crackling sound, which tells us the socarrat - the crust of rice - is crisp and perfect.
" He's right, it's a glorious dish, plump seafood and the sausage has a bite.
"As excellent as this has been," Dmitri says, "if I don't come home with a slice of olive oil cake for Ava, it's possible that she'll hide dirty diapers on my side of the bed."
We all leave with a large box of dessert and Dmitri and Nikandr shake my hand again, this time with much warmer smiles.
Alexsey gives me a kiss. "I have to go to the office for a short meeting, I'll see you at home in time for dinner.
" He gives me a lewd grin. "Maybe you should take a nap, you'll need it. "
"You're not that good in bed," I say haughtily, each word a brazen lie. He knows this, damn him, and kisses me again before getting into Dmitri's Maserati.