Chapter Thirty-Five
In which Violet finds herself in the most bougie private clinic in North America.
Roman…
I'm looking forward to confronting the local police when they blaze into the parking lot, sirens blaring.
Maybe taking out some of my unfocused aggression on them.
Unfortunately, my cousin Andrey shows up in the Morozov Holdings helicopter with detectives Connor and Michaels.
Just as the local constabulary are piling out of their cars, our New York detectives get them to lower their weapons and stop their demands of, "Everybody get on the ground! "
This is fortunate because Andrey is wearing a custom Tom Ford navy blue suit and I know he'll never forgive me if it gets dirty.
"I understand you gentlemen have many questions," Andrey says smoothly, introducing himself as Morozov legal counsel.
"But my client has two family members in serious medical condition and he needs to see them immediately.
I'm sure you understand." No, the local cops don't understand, but the presence of Connor and Michaels discourages them.
Andrey turns to me. "Nikandr can't be more than five minutes behind me, and he's going to lose his mind when he finds out that there's nobody left to shoot." Gingerly, he puts his hand on my shoulder. "We'll take care of this. Go see Alexsey and your father."
I'm a Vor. I clean up my own messes. But with even my perpetually stone-faced cousin looking concerned, I nod, getting into the helicopter and heading back towards the city.
The chopper lands on a pad on top of our office building.
The elevator shoots downward and I'm jittering.
Everything in me wants to head straight to the underground torture chamber at Gordi's, my favorite butcher.
I need Luan Krasniqi to hurt. I need him to suffer the tortures of the damned as he explains to me how they teamed up with the Morales cartel against us.
The parking attendant wordlessly hands me keys to one of the Morozov fleet cars, and I get into the driver's seat. Ivan hesitates for a moment before rounding the car to the passenger side. Pulling out onto the street, I pause.
If I turn left, I go to the clinic.
Turning right takes me to the butcher shop and redemption. The Krasniqi Chief has to pay for what he's done to my family, and I'll start with his son.
My phone rings. It's Violet.
"Roman." Her voice is sweet, but there's no cloying concern.
"I've been told that you just landed back in the city.
I know you must be so angry that it's hard to think right now.
You want to punish whoever's waiting for you at Gordi's.
Ava told me about Gordi's place. But I need you to come here, please. "
My hands tighten on the steering wheel, knuckles white.
"We need you more." Her voice is softer. "You'll have your time with that guy, but your mother and Dmitri need you here."
I'm about to turn right.
"I need you to come," Violet says. "I need to see you. I love you."
I turn left.
"I'll be right there," I promise.
Violet…
I'm sure we make quite a sight. Three women in bloody and torn wedding gowns. The next Pakhan in line for the Morozov Bratva is looking beat to hell and the nurses tiptoe past us in silence after offers of food and drink are rejected.
Kneeling in front of Rose and Iris, I whisper, "I'm going to get one of Roman's people to take you home. You can have a shower, get out of these horrible dresses."
They must want to go. There's blood flaking off Iris's shoulder and Rose has some horrible stains on her skirt that I don't want to identify. They both shake their heads.
"This is family," Iris says. "We need to be here."
Rose nods, "We can wait."
I sit down next to Dmitri, offer him a bottle of water and this time, he takes it, twisting the cap off and then putting it back on.
"I'm very happy that you and your sisters are safe," he finally says, his voice hoarse.
"And I am so sorry that you were left undefended when all your people came to save us," I say.
He huffs out a humorless chuckle. "This is life in the Bratva. I am disgusted with myself that I didn't consider the possibility of another crime family taking advantage of the moment."
"Well, it's hard to know everything," I say, leaning back with a sigh. "From what Roman tells me, you don't become the omnipotent Master of the Universe until you officially become Pakhan, right?"
He narrows his eyes very slightly, and it is not at all reassuring. "Are you attempting to distract me from the surgery?"
I swallow hard. "Is it working?"
Roman strides through the door. He looks kind of horrifying; covered in so much blood that his pale green eyes are glowing in his filthy face. No one in their right mind would get near him, but I'm on my feet and running to him before I can think.
Wrapping my arms around his neck, I say, "You came. Thank you, I love you. Playtime can wait."
For a moment, I think I've overstepped and then I feel his body shake in silent laughter. "Is this where you tell me torturing Krasniqi will be delayed gratification?"
"Why don't you view this as like, dinner before dessert?" I suggest.
Pulling back, he arches a brow at me. "I'm not sure that analogy works, sweet Violet.”
The private clinic is definitely a bougie upgrade from the ER, with comfortable seating and food laid out on the table, buffet style.
We all take turns circling the room in a restless pattern, aside from Iris and Rose, who have finally succumbed to their exhaustion and are sleeping together on a big recliner in the corner.
"I've never seen a surgery that was catered before," I whisper to Roman.
His face is still blank, but at least I got him to go wash his face so he'd stop scaring the nurses. He reaches into his pocket, holding something in his huge paw. I can't see what it is until he opens his palm, and resting there is a black velvet box.
A ring box.
"I planned on something more romantic," he says abruptly.
"I brought it on the rescue mission as good luck.
A sign that I would find you alive and I could put the ring on your finger.
Then all of this happened and – I was going to do it tonight.
I was going to let you shower first, of course.
I'm not an animal." Roman stops for a minute, as if not sure what else to say.
I put my arms around his neck, trying not to notice that there's blood still smeared on his skin.
"Is this where you propose to me?" I whisper. "You probably have something smooth to say, right?"
The strangest expression crosses his face, a laugh trying to struggle free from a man who can't find anything entertaining right now.
"Will you say yes?" he asks, smiling down at me.
Now, I'm the one to laugh, it's creaky and awful sounding and my hand goes to my side, already feeling a stitch. "Oh, that's kind of like shutting the barn door after the cows got out, isn't it?"
"Is this another one of your Texas grandmother's sayings?" Roman's smile is tentative, but it's something more than his scary, blank expression.
"Yeah." I'm still laughing and probably half in shock, but nobody seems to look up long enough to notice.
"You should've seen Colin's face, that fucking Chad, when they told him I was already married.
" I lean against the wall weakly, still laughing.
"Oh my god, I've never seen anything like it.
He looked like a kid who just found out Santa Claus isn't real and he's getting socks and underwear for Christmas. "
I have to sit down, my stomach's hurting, and Roman is still standing there, holding that velvet box in his hand. "You are the most autocratic bastard I have ever known," I manage between laughs. "When the hell did you forge my signature on the marriage license?"
Kneeling in front of me, he takes my hand. "I'm offended, sweet Violet. I would never be so crude. You did it yourself when you were signing documents for the grant proposal, that night at my place."
"I don't know whether to be flattered by your passion or insulted that you pulled that off without me catching you." Dmitri's watching us now with a faint smile, and I ask him, "Is Roman always this arrogant?"
"Only on days that end with a 'y'," Dmitri says, standing with a pained grunt.
Roman ignores him. Still on one knee, he opens the box. Resting on the velvet crease is a large diamond ring. A purple diamond.
"Did you know that purple diamonds are the rarest of the colored diamonds?
They only come from the Argyle mine in Western Australia.
The color is from hydrogen and boron impurities.
" He's rambling and if this wasn't Roman Morozov I would think he was nervous.
"Traditionally, they're small diamonds, it took five brokers to source this three-carat stone for me. If it's too small, I can-"
Rose wakes up, and smacks Iris with a screech. "He's proposing! Wake up, you're missing it!"
"What, right here in the waiting room?" Iris asks, rubbing her eyes.
Roman's gaze never leaves mine. "I love you, you know that. If you think about it, we've been married for over a month, and it's going pretty well, aside from you being kidnapped, but I murdered him so that's taken care of."
"Don't use references to murder in a proposal," Dmitri groans.
"Sweet Violet, I'll tell you something my brother skipped over when he proposed to Ava. Marriage in the Bratva is for life."
"Wow," Iris said. "That's intense."
"I want you to be with me, every day, I promise to give you a beautiful life," Roman continues. "You'll make me human. We'll take care of the girls. They can go to the most expensive school in the country."
"Really?" Rose asks.
"Everyone be quiet! If this is the only proposal I'm going to get, I want to enjoy it," I scold.
Roman knows he's winning me over, a salacious little grin curving the corner of his mouth. "I promise to attend to your every need. Every day, every night-"
"Teenagers!" I blurt. "Teenagers listening."
Roman stands, picking me up with one arm and carries me into the hallway, which is blessedly empty. "Say yes," he says, his tongue delicately circling my ear. "Say it again, that you love me."
"I love you," I say. "I'm still mad at you for tricking me into signing that marriage license, but it was all worth it just to see Colin suffer. The Chads deserve so much suffering."
"If the blood of your enemies is what you need, I will bring you their heads, as long as you say yes," he says, placing slow kisses down my neck.
"Yes," I laugh. "I love you. I am happy to be Mrs. Roman Morozova, I mean, now that I know I'm already married."
This part, at least, is just like the movies. Roman slides the ring on my finger and it fits perfectly, he picks me up, spinning me around as he kisses me fiercely.
"What are you two doing?"
It's Ella, pulling off her scrub cap, looking at us quizzically. Ava's right behind her, her face drawn with exhaustion.
"How- are they-" Roman sets me down, hands shaking. Dmitri strides down the hall, wrapping his arms around Ava.
Ella smiles, her weary face alight. "They're both going to make it.
Your father was shot in the chest, the upper right side, a clean through and through.
Alexsey…" Her face crumples and Ava steps closer, lending Ella her presence.
"We couldn't do much more than stabilize his arm.
There's so much damage to the bone; the radial and median nerves are-"
"We've already been in contact with the best hand specialist in the country," Ava says. "He's an incredible surgeon. We sent a jet to Boston to pick him up."
"Can we see them?" Dmitri's voice is hoarse, he has to clear it to finish the sentence.
"They're both unconscious, but go ahead," Ella says. "I doubt I could stop you." Roman and Dmitri push through the doors leading to the recovery room, leaving us in the hallway.
"Can I get the two of you a cup of coffee strong enough to stand a spoon in it?" I offer. "Some wontons or fresh fruit? Kabobs?"
"I see someone dragged the clinic's chef out of bed," Ella says, ruffling her matted hair.
"You have a chef?" I blurt.
"You get used to it," Ava says, patting my arm and heading for the food.