Chapter Fourteen
In which we all wonder, what the actual fuck is going on here?
Caroline…
What the actual fuck is going on here?
Nikandr's got a grip on me that I couldn't get out of without a lot more upper body strength than I possess.
"What was that?" I hiss as he guides me down the marble hallway. Both walls are floor to ceiling mirrors and I see my reflected outrage from every direction.
"Be quiet," he says between his teeth. His expression is still set in a genial, "We're all friends here," grin. He finds a door in the mirrored wall and opens it, hauling me inside. It's a bathroom, an elaborate mirror coated in gold gilt and a colossal marble sink.
He'd casually told Dariy that we needed to, "Freshen up a bit," and our weird-ass host gave me a leer that makes it clear he thinks I'm about to give Nikandr a blow job.
Yeah, because nothing puts me in the mood like a kidnapping and ears that are still clanging like the bells of Notre Dame.
Nikandr presses me back against the vanity, the marble edge pressing against the small of my back.
"Listen to me carefully," he says. "We're married."
"The hell we are!"
"You're either conveniently married to me," he says, crowding into me. "Or our host will consider you as free game. He was making no secret of his desire to strip you down right there in the entryway."
I push against him and it's about as useful as trying to shove off a bull moose. "Bullshit. Why do I have to be married to you to be untouchable?"
"No does not mean no with these fuckheads," he says sharply, his voice still low, lips close to my ear. "Agapov is Cossack, through and through, but with even less manners. That's why he kidnapped us instead of requesting a meeting."
"He thinks this is a meeting?" I hiss, pushing again. "What the hell is wrong with him?"
"Cossack," he shrugs, as if that answers all the necessary questions.
"So, this means he doesn't intend to kill us after torturing us?
Well, it's good that I don't have to freak out then because you were being very calm and I thought it was some stoic Slavic thing like, 'tonight, we die' and I was trying to not completely lose it.
" He's staring down at me, one corner of his mouth turned up, just slightly.
"Then how do we get out of here?" I ask, sagging in defeat.
I've given up on trying to eel free from him because it feels like my wiggling is having some effect on Nikandr's lower half, based on the baseball bat-sized lump against my hip.
"I've already sent our location to my people," he murmurs, "Agapov isn't going to hurt us, he wants something. Your job is to hold my hand. Smile pleasantly. Act like a newlywed."
"What does a newlywed act like?" I wipe my forehead. That long, hard lump against my hip is more defined, harder, kind of aggressive. I can't concentrate under these circumstances. "Also, can you get the hell off me?"
Nikandr scowls, moving his hips back slightly. "Giddy. You're giddy with the delight of our recent union."
"Why does it have to be recent?" I can't help it. I look down. Yes, he's still hard and straining against his expensively tailored trousers.
The asshole notices, the faintest smirk crinkling the skin around his eyes.
"Because otherwise, he would have heard of it already.
Agapov has a fangirl level of interest in our Bratva.
You and I were married in a quick civil ceremony here in Moscow, something spontaneous.
We're going to have a larger celebration back in New York with family and friends.
" His hazel eyes sharpen. "Do you still have your phone? "
"Uh." It takes me a minute. How am I supposed to talk with this asshole pressed up against me?
It's bad enough that Nikandr radiates BDE like a beacon of sin.
Having a reminder is repressing my ability to do things like use words.
I shake my head to get those few brain cells moving around and banging into each other.
"No. They took it from me before we got dragged out of the hotel. "
"I'm thinking we have maybe fifteen, twenty minutes at most before Alexsey and Vasilisa come through the elevator doors." He shifts his hips away from me, thank god. "Though they might come in through the windows or the roof. If it gets loud and explosive, you stay behind me, understand?"
Oh, I hate him so much. Bossy son of a bitch.
"Caroline!" He gives me a little shake. "I need to know that you heard me."
"Okay, the shaking and the ear-ringing together are not good," I snap. "I hear you. If it gets weird, hide behind you. This is no hardship because I'm perfectly happy to use you as a human shield."
Nikandr's eyes drift down my body, lingering offensively on my chest for a good long time before he looks up at me, a slow smile spreading across his face.
"And what a body to shield," he whispers, leaning in so his lips touch my ear, the manipulative prick.
He's close enough that he can see the little spray of goosebumps sprouting up my neck from his breath.
"Okay, fine," I say, slipping out from between him and the sink. "Sounds great. Key points: no death. We're married."
I turn on the sink for a minute to make it sound like we might've actually been in here freshening up, then take a breath, shaking my hands out. Nikandr watches this with some amusement before he says, "Are you ready to go?"
"No," I say. "Kidnapping is new to me, you'll have to forgive my lack of savoir faire."
He straightens his tie and gives me another leisurely visual examination. "Just stand there, and look –"
"If you say, just stand there and look pretty I'm going to punch you in the nuts," I say, wrapping all five fingers into a fist and holding it up threateningly.
Nikandr chuckles indulgently and opens the door, wrapping his arm around my waist. "Come on, wife. Let's go greet our host."
Dariy is waiting for us like an exceptionally chubby spider crouched in the middle of his web, his gold chains glinting brightly enough to make my pupils retract.
"There they are!" he says grandly, spreading his arms. Seriously, what does this guy expect? Does he think we're going to come in for a hug? Nikandr seats me next to him on the sofa, curving his arm protectively around my shoulders.
"And what to drink," our creepy host muses. "Vodka? Or would you prefer tea?"
I'm trying to think of what would be less difficult to poison and Nikandr's thoughts must be going the same way because he answers for us both.
"Vodka, pozhaluysta, please." One of the guards brings glasses and the bottle to the table, placing them in front of us and backing away quickly, like they might be next to get shot in the face.
"A toast!" Dariy raises his glass. "To new love," he says, with an unsettling grin, clinking his glass to mine, and then to Nikandr's.
"Uh-huh," I nod, smiling weakly as I sip my vodka and they throw theirs back. I put my hand on Nikandr's thigh, enjoying how his muscles stiffen just slightly. Yeah, he deserves that after rubbing up against me in the bathroom.
"Tell me, then," Dariy says, "how did you find this beautiful angel and snap her up so quickly?" He gives a pout that I suspect he thinks is adorable.
"We were introduced by Alexsey's wife, Caroline is her cousin," Nikandr says, taking my hand and kissing the back of it, and then each knuckle.
His warm lips are having a converse effect on me, and I shiver slightly.
His grin spreads across my skin and I know he noticed my shiver, the self-absorbed asshole.
"Caroline came with me for the weekend. I can't bear to be away from her even for business." He smiles down at me fondly, and I'm a little impressed with his acting ability. His hazel eyes are usually cold and assessing, but they actually look warm now and it's making me uncomfortable.
"And you, Caroline Morozova," Dariy turns his attention to me, "this sudden marriage he speaks of, when did this happen?"
I dig my nails into Nikandr's thigh as I ponder how to answer. What the hell do I know about getting married in Moscow? It's a civil service, right? "It was yesterday," I simper a bit. "We just looked at each other and we knew it was time."
Our host stares pointedly at my bare left hand, and I hold it up.
"You might be noticing that my hand is bare.
Nikandr gave me his mother's antique ring," I look at him adoringly.
“I don't know if you have met Tania Morozov, she is a wonderful woman. Sadly, her fingers are slimmer than mine, so the ring is being resized.” I giggle, a light tinkly laugh that makes me feel vaguely like a creepy anime character.
"As for his ring, I had the opposite problem where I got one that was too big.
He has such small hands, you see." I shoot Nikandr a fond smile as he presses his lips together, trying not to laugh.
Dariy looks pensive. "Yes, it is a terrible tragedy to have small hands," he says, spreading his out to make his sausage-like fingers look bigger. "You know what they say about the size of a man's hand…" he chuckles, winking at me.
"Well, it's not all about size, Dariy Agapov," I say sweetly, all wide-eyed innocence. "It is about tenderness, a man who is gentle, and willing to be vulnerable."
Even the guards look vaguely nauseated by this.
"And where were you married?" he asks, eyes growing sharper.
"Oh. Well. My husband, as you must know, has many connections here in Moscow and he called over…" I'm beginning to feel sweat drip down my back. "A- a civil servant who performed the ceremony for us in our hotel room." I'm looking up at Nikandr, hoping to god I'm getting this right.
He nods, smoothly breaking into the conversation, talking about some civil servant from some office and they exchange stories about all the bribes the official has taken.
Nikandr was wrong. It did not take Alexsey and Vasilisa fifteen to twenty minutes to come get us.
It took eight.
There is a resounding crash from the roof, a symphony of shattering glass and breaking wood, as Alexsey comes pounding down the stairs on the opposite side of the living room with his gun out and ten men behind him.
The elevator door opens and Vasilisa bursts through with her own contingent of guards.
Within seconds, the room is bristling with weapons, the vast majority of them pointing straight at Dariy.
"Now, now," he says reproachfully. "There is no need for this. We were simply having a pleasant conversation. I was asking your Sovietnik about his wedding to the beautiful Caroline Morozova."
Alexsey is good, I'll give him that. There's not even a flicker of surprise when he hears the "happy" news of our nuptials. "A strange way to celebrate the newlyweds, by kidnapping them," he says with a grin that looks ready to take a bite out of our host.
"Well," Dariy allows. "There were other considerations to be had. First, your Bratva's movement against my humble organization. It seems you have abandoned me for other clients and I am deeply aggrieved at the lack of respect."
I'm dead silent, barely breathing, not moving a muscle as I watch this performative little standoff. They're talking business, smiling pleasantly, and guns still trained on everyone. I have a feeling if I turn my head, there will probably be one pointing right at me…
"As Sovietnik," Nikandr says smoothly, "I am happy to discuss resumption of sales and shipment between us, but not after such an aggressive and inhospitable move.
Tomorrow, you will join us at Otel' ?Tsaritsa? where we were taken," he adds pointedly.
"We will eat together and discuss your concerns. "
Alexsey moves to stand beside me, his arm sweeps out and I hear a gun clatter to the floor. Yep, sure enough, somebody did have one pointed at the back of my head.
"In the meantime," Alexsey says, "you are upsetting the newest member of our family and I fear that my wife Liria would be inconsolable if she knew how her beloved cousin had been treated."
Dariy's face falls into folds of practiced sorrow. "My dear Caroline Morozova," he says, "I do hope for your forgiveness. It is clear that you are a gentle, cultured creature." Alexsey just barely holds in a snort. "You are unused to our harsh ways. I vow to be more of a gentleman tomorrow, no?"
I try to give out a lady-like sigh. "Thank you, Dariy Agapov. I do appreciate your kindness."
"Tomorrow then," he says, before his face droops in sad folds again.
"It is a true shame that you have been taken.
In any other negotiation, I would have given anything to have you as part of the bargain.
" He hastily raises his hands up again, as Nikandr leans forward with a very convincing growl.
"No insult intended, of course!" Dariy says insincerely.
"But you cannot blame me for yearning after a woman as beautiful as her. "
Oh, my god I hate this man.
It takes seconds for us to get hustled back into the elevator, watching the numbers drop. The elevator car is packed with men and guns and me. An intimidating line of armored SUVs are waiting for us in the street, blocking traffic. No one honks.
I'm back in a luxury car that smells like expensive leather and a whiff of gunpowder, a scent that I'm becoming very familiar with.
Alexsey is on one side of me and Nikandr on the other. They're both staring at me.
"What?" I demand defensively.
Nudging my shoulder with his in a brotherly way, Alexsey says, "We're waiting for you to fall apart, screaming and crying and the other things civilians do."
"I'm not really a civilian. I'm from a low-level crime family, remember?
But give me a minute," I say, staring out at the crowded street, at girls in bright dresses and roaming herds of men darting in and out of clubs and scampering across the street.
None of them had a gun pointed at them this evening.
Guns.
More than one.
Or got propositioned by Jabba the Hut.