Chapter 12 - Gavril
Lilia was spitting mad as I carried her down to her place at the table, and it was adorable. All the mixed feelings I had been fighting were back in force, pushing against using her to bring down her own family. She’d never forgive me for that.
But of course, I didn’t care.
Still, I could enjoy the feel of her soft body in my arms and laugh at her attempt to punch me when I got a little too friendly.
She was irresistible; there was no denying that.
It was good to see her full of fire instead of trembling with anxiety.
Perhaps the little mouse had turned into a lioness. She was certainly trying.
I dumped her in her chair, and Varvara hissed from her post behind the counter.
I doubted that ten extra minutes would destroy the salad she had prepared.
The greens looked crisp and fresh, and the perfectly seasoned strips of steak on top were juicy and hot.
My cook still acted like I had committed an act of treason, and she didn’t seem amused at my undignified entrance with Lilia cradled in my arms.
It was apparent my bride, who seemed to have a stubborn streak, was hungry. She couldn’t keep her eyes off the salad, her nose twitching as the aroma wafted up to her. Her tongue darted out as I took a bite and made a fuss about how delicious it was.
I smiled at her and told her to wait until dessert. She resolutely looked away, maintaining the silence she started once she realized there was no escaping my grasp and she’d be joining me for dinner.
There was a flash of regret in her eyes when the cook took her untouched plate away, and renewed distress when it was replaced with a tender, golden piece of chicken and a side of roasted yams.
“If I pretend not to look, will you go ahead and eat?” I asked. “You can keep your pride and not go hungry.”
“I’m not hungry,” she insisted, but her stomach growled and gave her away.
I did her the favor of not laughing, and with a sigh, she picked up her fork, though she still refused to utter another word.
Was she worth all this trouble? Wasn’t she just another headache?
I realized with a jolt that the splitting tension headache that started when I had to shoot Luigi’s newest underling, and had only grown worse as the day progressed, was gone.
Completely gone, and I couldn’t pinpoint exactly when it had disappeared, but I thought it was as soon as I swung Lilia into my arms.
Giving Lilia back wasn’t just something that made my temper flare, something that everything in me fought against; it wasn’t the best move.
The perfect pawn had inadvertently fallen into my possession and was now sitting across from me, ruthlessly ignoring me, and I wasn’t giving her up until it suited me. And if that day never came?
Never mind. Until I had a solid plan, she was mine.
“Why don’t you recommend something for me to read?” I asked, after the main course plates were taken away, and she still hadn’t spoken.
She finally looked at me, and I hid my triumph. With her love of reading, there was no way she could resist answering that question. Maybe I would even read her suggestion.
“How about starting with the works of Dr. Seuss,” she said, suspiciously sarcastic.
I pulled out my phone and searched up this author, realizing with a flash of anger that she was talking about children’s rhyming books.
“A favorite of yours?” I asked, pretending I wasn’t bothered.
“When I was three,” she snapped.
I gave her a glare, fed up. “I’m not your enemy, Lilia. I’m your husband. It would be better if we got along.”
Now that the dam had cracked, she had plenty to say. “I could never get along with someone like you.”
Someone like me? “I wouldn’t have taken you for a hypocrite,” I said. “You’re a member of one of the biggest crime families in the world.” The compliment almost burned my throat getting it out, despite it being true.
Her lush mouth flew open in outrage. “The operative word is family. Your Collective wouldn’t know anything about how we operate. They’re more like a terrorist group.”
She wasn’t entirely wrong about that. I’d had the same type of thoughts myself when I was particularly annoyed with Luigi and his men.
She named off the last three attacks his people had taken against hers and was a little too pleased to inform me of what I already knew.
All three attacks had ended in utter failure.
I was impressed with her knowledge and intelligence, and I let her rail against the Collective for a little while. “Go ahead and get your frustration out,” I said. “You deserve it after what they put you through.”
“They?” She was close to hissing; she was so mad. “Aren’t you the head of the snake? Why don’t you take them in hand? Or are you admitting you’ve lost control of your own men?”
That was taking things too far and hitting too close to home. I leaned across the small table, wanting an intimate evening with her instead of hollering down the length of the grand table in the formal dining room.
“Have you ever heard of the old strategy of giving someone enough rope to hang themselves with?”
She should have recoiled from my ice-cold tone and the look I gave her, one that stopped men three times her size in their tracks. She didn’t and scoffed at my reasoning.
“My family would be taking the rope to them, and wrapping it around their necks themselves.”
She wasn’t wrong about that, either. The Petrovs were notorious for stopping coups and uprisings at the first murmurs of dissent.
If only I hadn’t landed in this mess when all the plans were already well underway.
It was like trying to untie impossible knots in an endless ball of twine.
Setting the whole thing on fire would be simpler, but then I’d be left with nothing.
I still believed I could salvage something and come out on top.
I didn’t want to discuss my strategy with this impertinent woman, who was too pretty for her own good when she was riled up. I was also exhausted with hearing about how screwed up my organization was.
I changed the subject a bit too fast, ignoring, but also appreciating, her look of triumph. Lilia was definitely more than I bargained for, and another knot in my endless ball of twine. But I still couldn’t get enough of her.
After the last crumbs of chocolate cake disappeared from her plate, I shoved mine aside and reached to take her hand. She froze, not pulling away, but going completely still. Her eyes met mine, her pupils huge. From my touch alone, or was she still terrified of me?
After all her cracks at dinner, I wasn’t overly concerned about alleviating her fear at the moment.
Her hand was smooth and cool, and the memory of her body against mine when I held her close returned, so strong I could almost still feel the heat of her.
Even with my irritation welling, there was no denying I wanted her. I leaned closer.
“Now I think we should do something that normal married couples do all the time,” I said, grinning at her until it seemed like she would pass out.