Chapter Seventeen
In which a certain new husband should learn that pissing their bride off is not a strong start to a marriage.
Nikandr…
We're alone here in the suite. I don't think she likes it because she examines her nails, then straightens a pillow on the sofa and looks in every direction but mine.
"Well, if that's it…" Caroline clears her throat. "I'm going to get changed and run down to Sergei's office. He's going to show me how to use the keyword personalization feature that he's perfected for the guests and –"
"No, you won't." It comes out faster than I intend, but the idea of Caroline in his office and that silver fox fuck standing over her, looking down her blouse is not acceptable.
"I beg your pardon?" she says sharply. All that nervous energy finally has a place to focus: rage. Specifically, at me. It's crackling along her stiff posture and through her mossy green eyes.
"You're my wife now," I enunciate. "Mrs. Nikandr Morozova. The wife of the Sovietnik. You do not go into offices alone with other men. You are not alone with other men unless it's one of your bodyguards."
She's staring at me as if I just set the couch on fire while reciting a filthy Irish limerick.
"You're not selling this, Sovietnik." God, she loves that little snap she uses on the 'k' at the end of my title. "This little show–" she gestures angrily between me and her, "It's just that. A show and when it's done, I still have a hotel to run."
"We'll talk about that," I say, enjoying each layer of fresh outrage I seem to be piling on top of her.
"You won't be spending as many hours there, so I hope you've trained your staff well enough to function in your absence.
" I pick up my iPad, going through a couple of new messages, pretending to ignore her.
"What do you mean function in my absence?" My new wife steps in front of me, pushing my iPad away. I admire her audacity. If a man had tried that, I would've shot him in the face.
"I recognize this life is new to you, even though you were, as you said, mafia lite?
" She's too angry to nod, simply standing there, vibrating with fury.
"But you're a Bratva wife now, you'll be required to accompany me occasionally when I travel, attend special events, occasionally meetings where the optics are better if it seems to be more of a family event.
" The blood has drained from her face and she sways. I almost feel sorry for her. Almost.
"Come now, this can't be a surprise," I say, my voice lowering. I take a step towards her. She takes a step back. "Alexsey and Liria, for instance. Do you think she would be allowed to work twelve-hour days at a hotel?"
Oh, that one got her. She charges at me, hands fisted. "How fucking dare you judge me! My business sense is good and I'm making millions for this family, and you have the audacity to tell me that I'm bringing some sort of shame on the House of Morozov, like I'm the fry cook at Bill & Edna’s Diner?"
She steps away from me, pacing in front of the windows and I admire the perfect silhouette of her body in the light. She storms back-and-forth. "And also-" She points at me triumphantly. "Ella, the matriarch of the Morozov Bratva is a doctor, as is Ava –"
"Physician assistant," I interrupt by habit.
"What?"
"Ava is a Physician Assistant, she's quite specific about it," I explain.
She stares at me for a moment. "Yeah, okay. They are medical professionals, who work ridiculously long hours, I know because I've volunteered at the clinic a couple of times."
That surprises me. "You have?"
Her expression is defensive now. "I wasn't aware I needed clearance from you to do that." She's so agitated that she doesn't notice that I'm following her, more or less herding her into the tower where the circular room will make it easy to trap her.
Caroline realizes this when I'm standing in the doorway and she's in the middle of the tower, framed by the windows all around her.
Bozhe moy, she's fucking gorgeous. The sun is shining in on her hair, lighting it into a dozen shades of brown, blonde, and a hint of red.
Her eyes are alive with rage and she's never looked more beautiful.
"I'm aware," she says calmly, controlling herself with a visible effort, "that you are used to people doing whatever you tell them to.
That for you, it is your due to be obeyed without question.
However, I'm not one of your minions. I don't jump every time I hear a bolt of lightning and smell the brimstone, announcing that you've come back up to the surface to torment us mortals.
I may be stuck in this ridiculous marriage with you but I'm not your puppet. This is going to end."
Why do I hate hearing that?
"And I will be continuing on with my career. So, no, Sovietnik, you do not get to decimate my life for the next few months while this is all straightened out."
I reach up, resting my hands up on the door frame. This distracts her for a moment as she admires my arms while pretending not to look at me. "Are you finished?" I ask civilly.
"Yes." She draws the world out with a sibilant 'sss'.
"As my wife, you now require constant surveillance. Your position is both safer and more precarious."
She frowns. "What the hell does that mean?"
"It means while the average thug won't dare get within a mile radius of your location, more vicious, powerful men might find you a target to get to me."
Putting her hands on her hips, Caroline shakes her head in disbelief. "Wow, this is just sounding better and better with every dire warning coming out of your mouth! Your powers of persuasion are legendary, I can tell."
"What I'm trying to explain," I continue patiently, "is that you will not be able to wander off on your own anymore.
You require two bodyguards, and that will make your position of general manager a bit more complicated.
You will not be able to go out on runs at 2 am and throw yourself off buildings. "
Her fingers begin to tap against her hip.
I drop my hands from the door frame and step closer to her.
She stiffens, but she holds her ground. "This life is complicated, but it has immeasurable benefits.
I can get you anything you like, take you anywhere you wish, do anything you want.
Within reason," I add quickly. "And with proper security. "
She takes one step closer, tilting her chin up defiantly. "I don't need your money," she says. "I already have twenty-five million of it. You're a terrible poker player."
There's something between us, a sizzling recklessness that I felt that night in the elevator. My hands are nearly shaking with the need to touch her, stroke her face, cup her spectacular breasts again. I put them back in my pockets.
"Touché. Though twenty-five million is a drop in the bucket. You'll be seeing that."
"Money," she scoffs. "My family was not stupidly rich like yours, but we had more than enough. I'm not dependent on you for anything. Aside from keeping these mysterious Bratva families happy for the next… How long are we looking at anyway? Alexsey wouldn't tell me."
I search her face, so close to mine. That low frequency is still vibrating between us, and my cock is getting harder.
"I don't know," I lie. I know perfectly well that I'm never letting her go. Even if the Bratva didn't marry for life, I'd find a way to keep her. If she stays angry enough with me, she might find a way to kill me and put me out of her misery, who knows? But for now, she'll have to get used to it.
"You know," I say, watching her lips as she licks them nervously. "I didn't get my kiss when we said 'I do'."
She doesn't move, close enough now that I can feel her warm breath on my cheek. "That's because the Registrar never told us to," she laughs mockingly. "It was, 'sign here' and 'initial there.' So I don't recall anything requiring a kiss." Her smile is malevolent.
Fuck. I want to back her up against one of these windows, put her face first against it, fuck her from behind and make her watch our reflections and look out over all of Moscow, knowing that there's twenty million people out there, going about their business, not knowing she's getting fucked until she screams.
Instead, I straighten my tie, smiling darkly.
"The ceremony doesn't count if there's not a kiss.
" I wonder if she remembers that moment in the elevator as vividly as I do, what it felt like when she sucked my tongue into her greedy little mouth.
She'd bitten my shoulder, it bruised and I'd tap on it, enjoying the corresponding twinge.
I'm standing close enough that I can see her pupils, dilated.
Her breath coming faster, the rabbity pulse her neck.
Caroline tilts her head, smiling sweetly. "Sure," she says, tapping her cheek. "Have at it, husband."
I put my hand next to her head, bracing it on the window.
Her eyes flicker to my arm quickly and back to me, wary.
As she should be. I crook my finger under her chin, lifting it slowly, with infinite gentleness.
Her mouth parts, just slightly. Lush red lips.
Sweet, like the little desserts she'd "donated" last night.
I ate them all. Vasilisa was quite bitter that I was unwilling to share, mumbling something about, "The wedding cake incident all over again. "
I lean down, slowly, my lips a hairsbreadth from hers. Her eyes close, her lashes a thick fan on her cheekbones. My lips dust over her skin, and I kiss her cheek.
Her eyes fly open.
"Vasilisa will collect you at 8 pm. We have a business dinner."
Her lips snap shut and purse tightly before she steps around me and leaves the tower.