Chapter Thirteen
In which Iris is the delusional Miss Bennet and Andrey, the blood-soaked Mr. Darcy.
Iris…
When we arrive at the apartment Rose and I share, there's another embarrassing display as Melina and Av insist on scanning the neighborhood before allowing me out of the car. Which is a little ridiculous.
These apartments are very expensive, and this is a good neighborhood.
It's close to Columbia University, so its mostly students getting bankrolled by mom and dad.
I'm already getting side glances as we head for the elevators.
Once we reach my floor, the very nice accounting majors who live across the hall from us are about to greet me until they see the Redwood's - I mean, Av's expression.
They turn around and head right back into their apartment.
My heart twists as I unlock the door, knowing this will be the last time I'll do this as if it's mine, too. I have one foot into our entry when Rose tackles me, slamming me against the wall and knocking over the little rack that we keep for hanging up coats.
"What the fuck happened to you!" Rose sobs, touching my face, my hands, my shoulders, for what, I don't know.
Maybe bullet holes. "I go to a party with Jeremy.
I come home. You're not here and the next day, I find out that you were arrested and then you were married?
What the actual fuck?" She's crying hard enough that it takes her a while to get all of this out, and by then I've gotten her over to the sofa.
Melina moves behind us, going into the kitchen and putting on the tea kettle like she's been here before. Knowing her, anything is possible. Redwood - I mean, Av - closes the door, standing out in the hall.
"I am so sorry Rosie." I hug her tight enough to make her ribs creak.
"I'm so sorry. The whole night spiraled into this out-of-control mess, and the only people I was able to talk to were Violet and Roman.
A bunch of the big wigs like Dmitri showed up.
There were a lot of words tossed around like, 'unprecedented! '"
She manages a watery smile before it dissolves into a frown again. "You tell me right now that you are not married to Andrey Morozov. This is some kind of a sick joke, right?"
Almost as big a joke as you marrying Jeremy, I think.
"I understand that this sounds insane," I say, forcing myself to meet her gaze.
"But you've been building up this whole thing with Jeremy without me knowing how intense it was getting.
Well… I started seeing Andrey a couple of months ago.
I wasn't ready to talk about it at the time because I knew you'd go apeshit.
" Self-consciously, I push my hair behind my ears, watching her eyes bulge with horror.
"You're lying," she says flatly. "There's no way."
"Look, I know it seems improbable, yes, but there is… something." I shrug helplessly. "He makes me feel protected, and safe. Like nothing bad could ever happen."
Sweet baby jesus, I sound like a Jane Austen fanfiction, like I'm delusional Miss Bennett and Andrey is the blood-soaked Mr. Darcy.
"After I got arrested, and yes, I was set up, Andrey came right away and got me out. He made all the charges disappear."
"About that," she snaps. "Fucking Jackson had the nerve to call and demand answers, all mad about his precious Rolexes when my sister was in jail!
Yeah, we're not working for that asshole anymore.
" Rose is looking at me like I stole all her Christmas presents. "Why did you take that job without me?"
"Because I was home and…" I flounder helplessly. "You were out with Jeremy and I wanted to know that I could do it by myself, I guess."
"Do you think Jackson had something to do with the arrest?" Rose asks quietly. She's glancing at Melina, who doesn't look like she's paying attention though we both know she's listening to every word.
"I keep wondering about that," I admit. "He sent me out to the ass end of Long Island for a pick up from a guy who was skating the chemical edge of something heavy duty. Within minutes, the police came storming down the driveway and arrested me."
"Is that where you got this?" Rose asks, touching the cut on my cheek.
"Yeah, they weren't gentle. It was terrifying." I take her hand, still holding a balled-up tissue. "When Andrey showed up, though, looking so worried, it hit me that I knew he'd come for me, that he would want to be there and protect me. Right then, I knew I was going to marry him."
There's a look of utter stupefaction on her face. "Iris. Honey. In no universe is there a timeline where you would fall in love with that man. I would know if you'd been secretly dating someone for two months! Tell me what I'm missing. Please, Iris honey, it's me."
Oh, that corkscrew of guilt just keeps digging deeper into my heart. If she knew what really happened, Rose would never let me go. "Admittedly, we used to think he was appalling, scary," I begin.
"An animated iceberg," she adds. "Deeply troubling."
"Reserved."
"Sociopathic!" she snaps.
"Here's what I've learned, though. Andrey is capable of kindness and consideration. Wildly overprotective," I allow, "because apparently I have a whole new security detail. At least I get Melina! She's in charge."
Melina places a hand to her chest and bows demurely.
"Yeah, but- but-" Rose flounders, "How are you going to stand being a judge’s wife? That’s some uptight shit.”
"Sure, it's going to be weird as hell and I'll have to totally tone down the language when he steps onto the bench. Ooo, think of all those stuffy guys! Remember all the fun we’ve had with the super entitled ones?”
Melina is decisively shaking her head at me behind Rose's back.
Rose's face lights up with an unholy glee. "We could crush the entire judicial branch of New York in weeks!" she cackles.
Melina shakes her head even harder.
"Exactly!" I say, pushing away the reality that our days of fucking with men's psyches is over.
We talk until the long rays of the sun slant over the buildings around us, lighting up our windows with an orange glow.
There's a knock on the door, and Melina slides her hand inside her jacket, likely gripping her gun.
"Hey, Melina," I say hastily. "It's probably the girls down the hall wanting to borrow chips and beer or something. Put the gun back."
The Redwood opens the door, bowing with a strange little hunch, and I see why as Andrey’s impeccably suited form sweeps into the living room.
He surveys it briefly (verdict: unimpressed) before turning to us.
"There you are, wife." He seats himself next to me and kisses my hand.
"Have you two covered the last forty-eight hours to your satisfaction? "
Rose is glaring at him with such furious intensity that it's a miracle she hasn't set his hair on fire.
"There's something going on here that I don't understand," she says.
"I'm smart enough to know there's nothing I can do about it right now.
But I can tell you that I will end your life if you treat her like a piece of furniture.
Which is probably your usual go-to in relationships, right? "
He raises one elegant brow and says nothing.
"She may be your wife," Rose says fiercely, "but she was my twin first. There's nothing I won't do to make sure she's okay."
Tears burn at the back of my eyes. That's the same thing I said about my Rosie yesterday.
"We don't know each other well," Andrey says graciously, as if he's a monarch receiving a peasant. "Your sister's well-being is very important to me. I care for her. I want her to be happy and I know how important you are to each other. You will always be welcome at our home."
I'm staring at him, a little impressed by his performance and also relieved.
I wasn't sure how he'd be about having visitors in his precisely ordered castle in the sky.
There's another half hour of hugs and tears, which Andrey heroically endures, before Jeremy shows up.
Who knew there would ever be a time that I would be grateful to see him?
He puts his arm around my weeping sister and nervously reaches out to shake Andrey's hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you, sir." Andrey looks at the offered hand like it's a used diaper, but he finally shakes it.
"Hey, let's talk tonight," I say, hugging Rose tight. "Just like we always do at the end of the day, okay?"
"Yeah, that would be good," she sobs. Wrapping her arms around me one last time, she whispers, "I never thought that I wouldn't be standing next to you on your wedding day."
Walking away from our apartment feels like half of me is ripping away, leaving an empty space inside me. I don't know how I'm supposed to fill it.