Chapter Nineteen
In which Andrey and Iris explore the great mysteries of the universe. And mascara application.
Andrey…
I shower at Nikandr's place and borrow a tuxedo from him, since our size is identical.
Looking in the mirror is unnecessary. I know my face is covered in Ramon's blood, it's splashed up my arms, sprayed across my dress shirt.
After a very long shower, Nikandr convinces me to stay with him for a while, shoving a drink in my hand and taking me into his study.
We drink in silence until my glass is empty.
"Is this your version of punishing me? Forcing me to drink vodka?"
He smiles, holding up his glass to admire the purity of the crystal-clear vodka. "It's either this or dragging you back to St. Petersburg to swim in the Neva River to cool you down."
"Remember the fall we decided it was still warm enough to swim and have a race?" I ruffle my hair, it's nearly dry. "We kept crashing into sheets of ice, but we were too stubborn to quit."
"Father finally hauled our asses out of the water and told us if we got frostbite, we deserved it." Nik takes another gulp of vodka. "He was so rarely mad at us. He would have kicked our asses that day if we hadn't been completely blue."
Going in search of the Redbreast I know he keeps for me in his bar, I find it shoved behind the club soda. "Have I stayed long enough that you're confident that I won't fly into another murderous rage?"
Nik rolls his glass between his palms. "What you did was out of character, brother. Though I'm very impressed that you cut his head off in three swings. I've never seen you like that. In front of others, at least."
"That vicious bitch targeted Iris. My wife." The fury rises in me again and I don't try to push it back. It feels good. Cleansing. I could find Elana in minutes. Cut her throat and be back out the window in time for the party.
"You're ramping up again." Nik leans in, grabbing the back of my neck.
"I'm good." I force myself to sit still, allowing him to give my shoulder a squeeze before he pulls away.
"You're finally getting it, you poor bastard."
"What, exactly?" My tone is sharp, I don't like the fond smile he's giving me.
"You care for Iris. Even though this was all your plan, I don't think you expected to, did you?"
Shooting to my feet, I pace his study. "This is about respect, Nik, not sentimentality."
"Eh, it's both," he says. "You wouldn't have lost your shit like that if you were just unhappy with the lack of respect. Your wife was targeted. I know that insanely protective urge."
"Please don't think I feel the same way you do, you lovesick fool."
He refuses to take offense. "You should be having this discussion with your wife. After all, we're throwing a big party tonight to celebrate your quickie wedding. Maybe consider beginning your marriage now by being honest with her, because I'm fairly certain she thinks you're just using her."
"I am," I point out.
"True," he admits, "but there's definitely more to it than that now." He's wearing a smug grin that I want to punch off his face.
The elevator door opens onto our entryway and I stand there, one hand on the black circular table that always holds a vase of irises and roses. Sometimes, the colors vary, but always identical to Iris's wedding bouquet.
"Iris?" I call out. "Are you ready for the party neither of us wanted?"
"I'm upstairs," her voice drifts down. She's been stubbornly insisting on staying in the guest room, and she's sitting on a stool in front of the long mirror in the bathroom with a plethora of makeup spilling out onto the counter in front of her.
"We have thirty minutes, darling."
"Yeah," she says, her chin jutting out oddly as she puts on mascara. "I'll be ready."
As I'm watching her reflection in the mirror, her jaw contorts in the opposite direction as she works on her other eye. "Why do women do that?"
Holding the mascara wand away from her lashes, she blinks at me. "To look pretty."
"No, I mean the-" I imitate the awkward jaw contortion.
"I don't look like that."
"Oh yes, you do. Does it somehow make putting on mascara easier, or faster?"
Iris looks at the mascara wand and then at my reflection in the mirror. "To be honest, I don't know. But you are correct, we do do this from the first time we apply makeup. You have questioned one of the great mysteries of the universe, and I have no answer."
"Just get ready, wife. If we're late to our own party, my mother will shove me out a fifty-story window. No, worse, she'll throw all my suits out of it."
"Tania is a woman who knows how to party," she says approvingly.
The Aston Martin is armor plated, and it adds an extra layer of quiet to the backseat. The street lights flash by in ribbons of red and green. Inside our dark and enclosed space, it's silent. "You look beautiful tonight," I say, watching the light play over her face as she stares out the window.
Iris raises her chin. "You don't have to compliment me. You've already got me locked down."
"We're married," I correct. "That is not the same as being locked down. That would involve you being in bed with me."
Now she shifts her position, her back against the car door and folds her arms, glaring at me. "That was not part of the deal," she says defensively. “You got me," she holds up the ring glittering on her finger. "I am your demure and clever show pony, and that's it."
Picking up her hand, I run my thumb over her ring, watching her pupils flare. She's breathing faster. I don't know if she's aware of it.
"You can learn a great deal about a person simply by observing them. I built my law career on that principle. I know that when you and Rose came back after being abducted by the… Thads?"
"The Chads," she mutters.
"You each found a way to cope with what happened to you.
Rose dealt with the abduction by taking control of her sexuality.
She's had boyfriends, at least four or five, nice young men that she can easily sway into doing whatever she wants.
That's how your sister freed herself from that sense of powerlessness. "
Iris is stubbornly silent, watching me.
"But you, darling, you picked another path, making the choice not to let anyone touch you, at least not to fuck you."
Her lips move, like she's trying to say something, what comes out is more like a snarl. It dies away as I watch her.
"You regained your power by not having sex. There was no one worthy of you. No one you felt safe enough with to do it. I believe you're still a virgin, my beautiful wife."
"You don't know that." She shakes her head angrily, her curls flying around her face. "You know nothing about my sex life!" I shift, leaning over her, inches from her face.
"It's possible," I allow. "Though I am rarely wrong.
The abduction was a violation of everything that belongs to you.
Who you allow to touch you is your choice and your choice alone.
" Her breath is coming faster now and there's a slight tinge of sweat on her forehead.
"When you do feel ready, when you can trust me, I will defile your…
what did Rose call it? I'll defile your sacred womanhood in the most careful, gentle way.
We can stop anytime you like. If there's anything you don't want, you will tell me. "
"Why?" There's a sheen of tears in her eyes. "You can go out and sleep with anyone you want. Why do you care?"
"Because you're my wife," I say. "You are the only woman I will be with for the rest of my life, just as I am the only man for you."
Iris looks startled. "What- really? You're planning to be faithful?"
"Of course." I draw back, watching her. "No Morozov union has started in the 'normal' way, but none of us would disrespect our wives by stepping outside the marriage."
"You're an organized crime family," she says incredulously. "I thought everyone had mistresses and an avalanche of illegitimate offspring."
"How many mafia romance books have you read?" I ask dryly.
"Well, that has nothing to do with it," she blusters, knowing perfectly well that I've found dog-eared paperbacks all over the penthouse.
"Do you think Roman cheats on your sister?"
"Oh, god no," she says instantly. "They're at that soulmate level of love."
"You've seen my parents," I point out, "and Uncle Maksim and Aunt Ella. Do you think they've stepped out of their marriage vows?"
She chews her lower lip again and it's taking a troubling amount of self-control to keep from kissing her.
"No," she admits. "First, I'm pretty sure your mom would set your dad on fire if he tried something like that. You don't mess with Tania."
"You have no idea," I say fervently.
"Your father… no." She shakes her head decisively. "He worships your mom."
"As is Nikandr with Caroline, and they had an impressively rocky start."
"Yeah, she hated his guts," she agrees. "But they love each other now. It's not like that for you, though, is it?"
I won't lie to her. Iris knows I'm different from the rest of my family. "My feelings aren't the same, it's true. That doesn't mean I'm an emotionless monster. I admire you. I respect you. You are, without a doubt, the most beautiful woman."
She looks so fragile, sitting there in her pretty dress, her little shoulders back and her spine rigid.
I know the words the average man would use to tell her that I want her.
I've observed Nikandr and dozens of other men tell a woman that they're falling for her, that she turns them on and if they can't get inside her, they'll die.
I've used the script myself, though I've never lied to a woman about how I feel about her.
The words are sawdust in my mouth. It would be an abomination to manipulate Iris.
I'm not certain if she's ready for my truth, that I'm fascinated by her to an infuriating degree.
I've watched too much surveillance footage of her, I insisted that Melina and her team give me a play-by-play account of her day.
I want my wife. The sad truth is that I'm constantly hard around her and I've come by my own hand a dozen times, thinking about her this week.
But I can wait.
"Remember this, wife. When you're ready, there are so many things I can show you.
" My voice drops to a whisper. There's blood surging through me, not like when I hunt but some driving desperation to act.
"You can pick and choose. We can try everything.
Decide what you like, what you want more of.
What you never want to do again. And I will gladly guide you through it.
I may not feel the way other people do, but… "
I frown, searching for the words. This is unlike me. Of course, this kind of obsessive fascination is unlike me, too. "I want you to be happy."
Her eyes are wide and her mouth is open. Not afraid then, or angry. A good start.
"Oh." Iris licks her lips. "That's…"
The car pulls up in front of Lindon Planetarium. The four-story glass front is ablaze with light with a soaring constellation of planets above the crowded Grand Hall.
Iris looks over my shoulder. "I thought this was supposed to be a little party?"
We stare at the crowd of people, laughing and drinking, even the massive marble hall isn't big enough to hold them, and they spill out onto the terrace.
"So did I," I admit sourly. "I suspect the Morozov women's view of small and simple, is different from ours."
The parking attendant darts forward and Trofim gets out to block him. The attendant suddenly finds something to do on the far end of the circular driveway and Trofim opens my door.
"Which part of his body did you threaten to sever?" I ask, straightening my jacket.
"Nothing so boorish, boss. You wound me." I raise a brow and he says, "I might have mentioned his liver."
"Of course you did." Walking around the car to open Iris's door, I hold out my hand. "We should get in there before everyone's had too much vodka and then the speeches will run on for hours."
I get a glimpse of her long, toned leg and I want nothing more than to push her back onto the seat, spread her legs wide and bury my face in her pussy.
"You okay?" She's looking up at me and sweeping her hair back over her shoulder.
"Shall we?" I hold out my hand, she looks at it for a moment, then links her hand with mine, fingers laced together.
Taking a deep breath, she faces the blazing lights of the party.
"There better be cupcakes."