Chapter 9
Aurora~
We were at The Rusalka, which translated into The Mermaid in English, but that wasn’t anything that Viktor had cared to explain. Unbeknownst to my new husband, not only was I fluent in English and Italian, but I also spoke Russian, Romanian, Spanish, German, Japanese, Chinese, and Mandarin.
At any rate, after Viktor had driven us back to his home from the church, with no time for a tour before the party had begun, he had escorted me straight to his bedroom, then had left me to unpack my belongings before we’d had to leave.
Now, since I hadn’t packed a lot, it hadn’t taken long to put everything away, and I was still kind of surprised by how Viktor had made space for me without me even having to ask.
I’d also been quick about calling my father to let him know about the reception. While I knew that he and my brothers wouldn’t attend, it was still important to inform him of these kinds of surprises. For all I knew, I could be walking straight into a firing squad, and so someone needed to know.
So, now I was sitting among the most powerful of my enemies, and you could feel the tension like a thick cloud of fog that was determined to ruin your day.
While, admittedly, there were only about fifty people in total, every single one of those people kept throwing me dirty or wary looks, but it was hard to blame them.
If the roles had been reversed, it’d be the same thing.
They were also speaking only in Russian as rudely as you please, but I didn’t care.
I understood every word as I sat across from my husband, the table and chairs obviously set to resemble some kind of banquet setting.
There were three seats on either side of the table, and while my new father-in-law wasn’t in attendance, Kasimir Korolev was here, and he was sitting to the right of his brother, leaving me to fend for myself at this end of the table.
I also had no idea who the other people sitting with us were, but from their casual conversation, I’d guess that they were Brigadiers, which were akin to Capos.
So, with only eight people seated at the main table, the rest of the guests were scattered about the club, mingling and talking shit about me, no doubt.
Still, it didn’t matter. I wasn’t here to make friends.
Now, while I knew better than to get drunk around these people, that still didn’t mean that I couldn’t use a drink, and I refused to take a sip of whatever had been served.
I wasn’t stupid enough to drink anything that I hadn’t seen poured straight from the bottle.
Yeah, it might become exhausting being on guard all the time, but I’d worry about that later.
Ready for a drink, I stood up, but as soon as I did, Viktor was on his feet. “Where are you going?”
“To the bar,” I answered, eyeing him from across the table, ignoring how everyone had stopped talking.
“Whatever you want can be delivered to the table,” he pointed out, and credit to the man for subtly daring me.
“I’m aware,” I replied coolly before ignoring his glare to head over to the bar, which had me wondering if the bartender would even serve me. Nevertheless, that didn’t stop me from approaching the bar anyway.
“YA mogu vam pomoch'?” he asked purposely, and even if I didn’t understand Russian, it’d make sense that he’d automatically ask if he could help me.
“Any domestic beer that you have, unopened,” I answered, speaking clearly but slowly to make him believe that I hadn’t understood him. After all, I didn’t want to give up all my secrets just yet.
“Of course,” he replied in English, though his accent was very pronounced.
“YA ne mogu poverit', chto on deystvitel'no zhenilsya na ney,” said a voice next to me, and I wanted to laugh. He wasn’t the only one who couldn’t believe that Viktor had actually married me. “YA by nikogda ne vyshla zamuzh za ital'yanskogo podonka, tem boleye za prostitutku.”
Yeah, so while I had no problem with his incredulousness at Viktor marrying me, I was not going to stand by and allow him to insult me publicly.
I was too proud of my heritage and my family to let him get away with saying that he’d never marry Italian scum, especially a whore.
I also no longer cared that I’d be giving up my edge.
These sonsofbitches didn’t have to like me, but they were going to learn to respect me if I had to shoot a few of them in the head to get my point across.
So, ignoring the unopened beer that the bartender had just placed in front of me, I turned to the Russian asshole who was eyeing me like he wanted to jab his knife into my throat, then said in perfectly flawless Russian, “Yesli khochesh' pogovorit' o prostitutkakh, davay pogovorim o tvoyey materi.”
Yeah, that felt good.
His face immediately turned red, but I could hardly blame him.
After all, I’d said that if he wanted to talk about whores, then we could talk about his mother, and no one liked it when someone talked shit about their mother.
However, it was the perfect thing to say for the reaction that I’d been hoping for.
“Ty, chertova suka!” he roared before he charged me, and he really could have come up with something a little more original than you fucking bitch.
Luckily, I hadn’t changed for the party, so I was still dressed in my white blouse and black slacks, making this fight so much easier. I also planned on stabbing him in the heart with my heels, and a man could only wish that he could fight in heels.
A foot taller than me, he immediately grabbed me by my shoulders, then tried to fling me aside, but because he had automatically underestimated me, he hadn’t been prepared for me to throw a quick jab to his throat, leaving him more surprised than damaged, but that was all the time that I needed to bring him down.
Ignoring the shouts and chaos around us, I jabbed my heel into his knee, and the crunch could be heard over all the commotion, and it really was music to my ears.
This was also more than just a regular fight or putting this sonofabitch in his place.
With every swing of my fist and kick of my legs, I was making a statement to everyone who was watching.
I was letting them know that I feared no one in this room, and that I also had no problem defending myself to the fucking death if I had to.
I also realized that I had the upper hand simply because the man had underestimated me.
Had he given me any proper consideration, this fight would have been more challenging.
However, instead of howling on the floor like a little bitch over his shattered knee, he reached for my leg, nearly toppling me over, but I was quick enough to come down on his arm with my other heel.
“Ty, chertova suka!” he roared again. “YA tebya, blyad', ub'yu!”
I almost smirked. He could only wish to fucking kill me, and killing me wasn’t all that easy to do anyway. I had the body count to prove it.
“Togda ubey menya, zhalkiy ublyudok!” I yelled loud enough for everyone in the club to hear, and taunting him to kill me then and calling him a weak bastard only ignited his rage, especially when we both knew that he could no longer stand on his feet with his knee fucked all to hell the way that it was.
Still, that didn’t stop him from lunging forward to wrap his left arm around my knees, dragging me down with him, but I wasn’t concerned. I still had the advantage as I dropped my elbow down on his nose, the cartilage crunching beautifully.
“Dostatochno!”
Both the Russian and I stopped mid-fight at Viktor’s roaring command of enough, but not because he had issued an order.
While I wasn’t sure about the asshole beside me, I stopped at the distinct sound of a gun being cocked back, and having been raised by Roman Marchetti, I recognized that sound like I recognized my own heartbeat.
Moving back from my victim, I looked up to see Viktor pointing a Ruger Super Redhawk at us, and I knew this because my gun training had been just as thorough as my brothers’ had been, and with my photographic memory being what it was, I knew that gun, and I also knew that it was the most powerful handgun in the world.
As I glanced around, I also noticed how Kasimir also had his gun out, though his was a Smith & Wesson 460XVR, and it was waving lazily at the crowd, ready to shoot anyone that dared make a move towards him or his brother.
When I looked back at my husband, the blue of his eyes looked like a deadly fire that was about to set the entire world ablaze. He looked enraged but also in control, and he looked like a man that would be next in line to rule the Korolev Bratva.
Nonetheless, I wasn’t a coward. I been raised to not fear death, and with no children to soften me, I had no reason to be frightened of the gun pointed at me.
In fact, it could be argued that something must really be wrong with me to feel nothing but adrenaline in this situation, but it wasn’t anything that I was about to go see a therapist for anytime soon.
So, with the Russian’s arm still wrapped around my knees, I leaned forward as far as I could, placing my forehead against the barrel of the gun.
It was then that I looked up at my new husband, and with my voice clear and loud enough for everyone in the club to hear, I said, “I wouldn’t want you to miss. ”
Those blue eyes of his flared, and I couldn’t even be sorry about the hell that my family was going to rain down on the Korolevs once they found out that I was dead. In fact, knowing what was to come was the only thing making my death all worth it.