Chapter Ten
In which Andrey tackles his most cunning opponents. His parents.
Andrey…
Before they left, Dmitri seemed mildly puzzled that I didn’t want to trot Iris out like a show pony for a big family dinner tonight. "It would make it clear that the Morozov Bratva is united behind you."
Nik rubbed his hand over his jaw, trying to hide a spiteful grin.
"My brother should be bright enough to know there's no reason to stick around here.
There's not going to be a wedding night after this debacle.
If he's lucky, maybe Iris will be in a forgiving mood in fifteen, twenty years.
" He chuckles, suddenly pleased with the whole idea.
"Our Supreme Court Justice is about to enter a very dry period. "
They leave, laughing. Assholes.
***
My brother, though, is correct. No Morozov would ever take a woman against her will.
I'm a bastard. But not an utterly unconscionable bastard.
While Iris is quietly sobbing in the clawfoot tub in the guest bathroom, I make some calls; a couple of state senators, and then the head of the nominating committee for the State Supreme Court, assuring them all that yes, the news is true.
I stick to the script: Iris and I have been dating quietly for several months and we both decided it was time.
"That's almost romantic until I remember what a cold-hearted son of a bitch you are," Marlena says. As head of the nominating committee, she knows she can say anything to me and get away with it. What she doesn't know is that I have a very long memory, and a propensity for grudges.
"I may not show affection like other people," I say with a certain dignity. "That doesn't mean I don't feel it." The silence smells of chagrin before she bounces back.
"The optics of this are difficult," she says stiffly. "This is very unlike the Andrey Morozov the legal world knows."
This makes me want to laugh out loud. I don't, of course.
"No one knows me. They know what I show them. Now, remember: the connection between Iris and me felt inevitable," I lie seamlessly. "I'm sure you can make it work."
The longest Facetime is with my parents. Mother's angry, Father is resigned.
"What is it with my sons instantly marrying women without bothering to tell us?" she rages. "Have we really dropped so far down on your totem pole that you didn't think you could even mention it to us?"
Father and I glance at each other. I suspect he knows exactly what happened. He doesn't look particularly disappointed or surprised, but maybe a bit concerned.
"How is Iris doing?" he asks. "This has to be a little overwhelming for her."
"You think?" Mother snaps. "You cannot tell me that you've been harboring a secret love for this poor girl."
I shrug, which seems to infuriate her even more.
"I have always loved you,” she says, low, and urgent. "But this move is impacting someone else's life too. Iris is a sweetheart. If this is something you are forcing her to do… I couldn't forgive you."
This hits like a punch. Mother has always understood me, she knew I wasn't like my siblings, that I couldn't show emotion. My parents had taken me to a psychiatrist, where phrases like "sociopathic" floated around the room. We went to dinner afterward, and she said, "Whoever you are, we love you."
"Tania…" Father uses his most loving tone with her.
"We raised our sons to be honorable and I believe that Andrey will behave that way with Iris.
" He pulls her toward him, giving her a kiss on the cheek.
She growls something I can't catch. "This can't be that much of a shock, sweetheart.
It's not like our generation was any smoother with marriages.
I do recall the two of us getting married in the narthex at the Smolny Cathedral because the Cardinal was too scandalized to marry us in the sanctuary? "
She flushes. "Well, that's different."
"How?" I ask, immediately regretting the question when she glares at me again.
"Give us an analysis," Father says. He's leaning forward, taking her hand.
"Analysis?"
"You're the master of this," he smiles. "Remember the very thorough rundown you gave us on Caroline when she and Nikandr got together? You must have done something similar for Iris to determine if she'd be a good candidate."
This intrigues Mother and she leans forward, too. "Yeah, I want to hear this."
I open my mouth and close it again. I didn't do a thorough examination on Iris. I saw her that night at Roman and Violet's party, how cunning and clever she was. She wasn't afraid to stand up to me, she could not have been less impressed. And… I wanted her.
Did I really make a life-long decision this impulsively?
I give them the same story I had told everyone else, slightly tailored for how loving and concerned parents would want to get such news.
"Also, Iris is courageous, and she's immensely loyal to her family. Dmitri had to promise her that Rose would be free to marry whoever she likes if Iris agrees to this union." I wrap my analysis up and wait for their response.
They both sit back, looking a little stunned. "This is the kind of loyalty the Morozov family needs," he says slowly.
Mother is still eyeing me suspiciously.
"Most shockingly…" I admit it to myself as well. "She's not afraid of me."
Now, she breaks out into a grin and I shake my head. It's too easy to please these two.
"Where is Iris right now?" she asks. "I'd like to speak to her."
"Not tonight," I say. "I do understand that you're eager to see her, but this afternoon's negotiations were harsh enough. She's upstairs, decompressing."
I don't mention that she's crying in her tub, no reason to complicate this.
"I've always liked her," Mother says. "Dasha is going to lose it when she finds out that not only does she have Caroline, Iris is now her sister-in-law, too." She smiles, slightly maliciously. "This means we now outnumber the men in this family."
"I hate to say it," Father says reluctantly, "you have sold me on this match." He puts up a hand warningly. "We would still like to see Iris and make sure you aren't keeping her chained up in one of your gun lockers but yes, I understand your reasons."
"I'm honored that you've accepted her," I say. "These next few months are going to be challenging. There's no way to sugarcoat it. If she has your support, I think it will go a long way."
Mother smiles. It's half sad and half delighted and it's the strangest combination, as if her expression can't decide which way it wants to go. "I've never considered that- I didn't think you'd ever get married, sweetheart."
He kisses the top of her head as she chokes up a little.
"Your father and I went through an extremely rough patch after we married, but we'd at least been a couple beforehand.
We had a base to work from. This could be the best decision of your life, but I am warning you, Andryusha, after plunging Iris into this life, you're going to have to be kinder than you're used to.
Which I'm sure will be excruciatingly painful. "
My disapproval must be evident, because she starts laughing. "You are the one who wants this match," she reminds me. Unnecessarily. "That means putting in some effort into treating Iris well, as distasteful and horrifying as it may seem."
Leaning back in my chair, I try not to glare at my parents. "You just had to work that in there, didn't you, Mother?"
Her smile is sunny now. "Yes, I did. Talk to you tomorrow."
Father gives me a wink and we end the call.
My mother's words are digging at me insistently.
There's no need to change who I am. Nikandr turned into a fool when he married Caroline, their affection for each other is…
unsettling. My stern and uncompromising brother chased his bride through Lower Manhattan last weekend.
He attempted to explain it to me and I hung up on him.
Heading upstairs to the guest suite, I listen closely.
Her weeping ended some time ago, and now I hear the soft sounds of her padding around her room.
Violet sent over a couple of her suitcases, and my head of security put them outside her bedroom door.
They're gone, so I assume she's getting unpacked.
A fissure of displeasure moves through me. My wife should not be in the guest room. The vivid image of her in my bed rises up before I can shove the thought away. I tap my knuckles against the door. "Iris. Come down for dinner, we'll talk."
It takes a moment for her to open the door.
My lip curls with amusement because I can hear her breathing on the other side of the wood.
My wife is keeping me waiting. When she finally opens it, her eyes are still red and swollen.
Her hair has been brushed at least, up in a high ponytail, a waterfall of thick hair spilling down her back, and she's bundled up in a dark green cashmere turtleneck and jeans.
When my leisurely perusal makes it back up to her eyes, they're narrowed. "I meant what I said," she says. "I'm not having sex with you."
"Everyone wants to have sex with me." It's not a boast. This is accurate.
"Oh, the irony, then…" Iris leans closer and her lush mouth parts. "That your wife doesn't."
***
Andryusha - Diminutive of Andrey, something a parent would call their child.