46. Enemies Everywhere
ENEMIES EVERYWHERE
It’s approaching dark again as we near Serebryanovo’s main entrance. Carina is awake, but neither of us has said much on the drive.
It’s been a long day.
We went straight to a small church outside the city for an abbreviated ceremony, then to a government office to sign the paperwork that made everything legal.
From there, we visited a doctor to stitch Carina’s hand.
By the time all of that was taken care of, it was late morning.
I took her to a restaurant for some food, then shopping.
A task my mother or Victoria would undoubtedly be better at, but I’m not sure when—if—I’ll be able to trust them alone with Carina.
Igor will regulate my movements as much as possible once he finds out what took place this morning.
Carina balked at spending my money at first. Once I told her it would be her only opportunity to purchase clothes for a while—meaning she’d be stuck wearing my shirts or maid outfits in the interim—she became a lot more agreeable. There’s a dozen bags piled in the trunk.
I pull the SUV straight up to the main door again rather than stopping at the garage. I’m eager to get this confrontation over with as quickly as possible.
“Keep your gun visible,” I tell Carina, turning off the engine.
“Won’t that make things … tense?” she questions, but she’s already listened, holding the weapon tightly in her uninjured hand.
I glance at the ring on her bandaged one. Purchasing that, too, sparked an argument I only won when I reminded her why advertising our marriage was important.
“It will already be tense. Show you know how to use it. Flip the safety off at some point. Look around; don’t stare anywhere for too long. Stay alert, but don’t act nervous.”
Carina nods. “Should I say anything?”
“Not unless they address you directly. Most of it will be in Russian.”
“So that I won’t understand?”
“Yes. And because we are in Russia.”
I catch her eye roll before opening my door, and I grin—grin—as I walk toward introducing the captive I married to my family.
They’re all waiting in the entryway that leads to the main staircase.
I assumed my father would be there and likely Aleksandr, but Maksim, Victoria, and my mother are all unexpected presences.
They’re hardly involved in business matters, and although this no longer qualifies, they don’t know so yet.
“I knew you were overreacting,” Victoria says, narrowed gaze locked on Carina as we approach. “He just wanted to have some fun with the Italian whore before handing her over.”
I pity Victoria most of the time. I know her marriage is an unhappy one.
Aleksandr is a cold man, and she’s unable to draw much warmth out of him.
But she knew that when they met, knew that when she married him.
She could have chosen someone else, someone less powerful and less rich, yet she chose both at the expense of any contentment.
So, I fix her with a glare—the harshest look I’ve ever given her—before I reply, “Don’t say anything about my wife you wouldn’t say about me.”
Wife turns the cold room positively icy. Frigid enough that I feel as though I should be able to see my own breath in the summer air.
My mother’s shocked inhale is the first sound that registers. “Lev.”
She’s angry, irritated, but I hear the hurt there too. She thought I’d taken Carina to kill her, like she’d advised, and instead, I’ve made the strange situation ten times more volatile.
“What the fuck did you say?” is Maksim’s contribution.
Igor and Aleksandr are silent. Assessing.
Scheming. Their quiet stretches on though, and that’s telling.
Igor doesn’t know what to say in this situation.
Whatever conclusions he came to, explaining why I’d disappeared with Carina this morning, my father never anticipated this.
I’m the dutiful son, less moody than Aleksandr and more predictable than Maksim.
The shock is expected—the one thing that might allow this to work. You mistrust your opponent, but my father and brother don’t see me that way. They never have. I’m the loyal soldier. And now that I’ve deviated, they don’t know how to deal with me.
“You’re lying,” Igor states.
I smile, knowing that will unnerve him more than anything else. I hardly ever smile around Igor because we’re usually discussing something unpleasant. I’m stepping in to solve a problem or being sent to clean up a mess. It’s a lot more fun, causing problems and making a mess.
There’s a low click to my left as Carina flips off the safety of her gun. My smile grows. Becomes genuine.
She’s perfect. So fucking perfect. And she should be living in a big house in Highland Park with a doctor or a lawyer or another musician, but instead, she’s here, married to me. I will keep her safe, no matter what it costs me.
I take a step closer to my father, angling so I’m covering Carina with my body. “She is a Sokolov now. If she’s not treated as such, by anyone”—I let my gaze roam across my assembled family members—“I will take that personally. Understood?”
Stony faces surround me. They don’t know how to react, were wholly unprepared for this to take place.
I glance at Kirill, stationed beside the door. “Have everything in the car brought upstairs and left in the hallway.”
He glances at Igor, then back to me, then nods. The other men nearby assemble into action, spilling outside and surrounding the SUV.
A storm cloud passes across my father’s face, but he says nothing.
I have authority here, more than a second son should, and I just proved that’s the case.
I don’t just issue orders to our men. I fight alongside them, ensure they return to their wives and girlfriends and children and mothers and fathers.
That instills a trust that no hierarchy can trump.
No one has ever worried I will challenge Aleksandr for pakhan.
My mother thinks I’ll become one because he’ll get himself killed outside a club or a brothel, not because I’ll fight for it.
I glance at Carina, and we share a second of silent communication. I nod, and she starts toward the stairs.
I follow.
It’s a deliberate display, me behind her, one I know they’ll notice. They don’t know about our past, have no clue what to make of our current dynamic. And that uncertainty is important. The less they know, the better. The more power they think Carina has over me, the better.
“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” Igor practically spits the words, the closest he’s come to displaying his fury.
I’ve claimed Carina in the most public way possible. If he tries to trade her or has her killed, it will scare everyone who believes they have Sokolov protection. If Igor would do that to his daughter-in-law, who wouldn’t he sacrifice?
“It’s my wedding night. Where the fuck do you think I’m going?”
Angry silence follows me up the stairs.