Chapter 6
Viktor~
Normally, I wouldn’t be entertaining this nonsense, but since I wasn’t a fan of killing women, I was doing my best to keep things from getting to that point. Now, if it came down to it, I’d do whatever I had to in order to honor my wife, but I still didn’t need the bullshit.
“She’s Italian,” she hissed, saying it like being Italian was the worst thing in the world that you could be.
“She’s my bride,” I corrected her coolly. “So, if I were you, I’d be careful when speaking about my future wife.”
Dushenka’s eyes widened with a wounded look that could be genuine, but I doubted it.
Having known the woman for a few years now, I knew exactly where her priorities stood.
She had started out as a traditional whore on a street corner, but when she’d gotten a job as a stripper at one of our clubs, she’d been cunning enough to rebrand herself, and four years later, not many people knew of her earlier career.
Plus, with the rebranding, Dushenka Ivonev had invested a lot of money in herself, and whatever anyone could say about her, they couldn’t say that she hadn’t paid for the best plastic surgery in the country.
Her face and body were pure perfection, and that fiery red hair of hers never turned into that dull orange that oftentimes plagued redheads.
At any rate, about a year ago, I’d made the mistake of letting her give me a lap dance, and she’d done a good enough job that I had ended up spending the night fucking her into the morning.
Now, having been a professional whore in her previous life, knowing exactly who I was, she’d broken out with all of her best tricks, and I’d fallen for the convenience of her.
So, for the past year, I’d been calling on her whenever I’d wanted to get my dick wet without the effort, and she’d been eager to answer the phone every single time.
Hoping for something more.
Of course, I hadn’t ever given her any reason to believe that she was special, and there’d been plenty of times when I’d left the club or bar with someone else, but since most of the women had been one-and-dones, Dushenka had convinced herself that my continued visits had made her important somehow.
So, now she was taking exception to my upcoming wedding, and it was time to finally put her in her place.
“She is the enemy, Viktor,” she spat. “How can you justify getting into bed with one of our biggest competitors?’
Our?
“First of all, you are not a Korolev,” I pointed out coldly. “So, I’m not sure why you feel as if anyone is your enemy. Second, it’s none of your business who’s in my bed.”
“So, this past year has meant nothing to you?” she squawked.
I let out a dark laugh. “You’ve lost your mind if you think random pussy means anything to me.”
Identifying her mistake, she lowered her voice as she forced tears into her eyes. “But I still don’t understand why you have to end things. Surely, you have no plans on being faithful to that woman.”
Yeah, it was time to stop humoring her.
“Dushenka, I came here as a curtesy and nothing more,” I informed her. “I am not obligated to explain myself to you, nor am I obligated to offer you any kind of consolation prize.”
“But-”
I put my hand up to stop her rambling. “I am only here to tell you that I will no longer be visiting you, and that you’d do well to keep a respectful tongue in your head when it comes to my wife.”
“Are you threatening me?” she asked unbelievingly.
“Not at all,” I replied seriously. “Threatening you implies that you’ll have a chance to make amends, which isn’t the case here. If I ever hear of you speaking ill of my wife, I will end you, Dushenka. In fact, I will end anyone who dares to speak of my wife in any unfavorable fashion.”
“She’s Italian!” she yelled.
Refusing to entertain her any longer, I said, “You’ve been informed of my decision to sever our acquaintance, and you’ve also been informed of what will happen to you if you continue to speak freely about me or my family. So, the rest is up to you.”
I turned from the biggest mistake that I’d made in quite a while, then headed for her front door. Now, while it wasn’t a good look to be here on the morning of my wedding, I’d chosen privacy over a public display of dramatics, and I’d been correct in doing so.
“She won’t be able to make you happy,” Dushenka spat as I pulled the front door opened, but I just ignored her, ready to go home for a thorough shower. Incredibly, I felt the need to wash the memory of her off my person, and I hadn’t ever experienced something like that before.
As I rode down the elevator from her apartment floor, I thought about Dushenka’s parting shot, and while I certainly had no misguided illusions about my upcoming marriage, I saw no reason why Aurora Marchetti and I wouldn’t be able to get along decently.
Granted, I knew nothing about the woman, so it was possible that she could be a spoiled shrew, but I’d never heard that of her.
In fact, it was said that all of Roman Marchetti’s children were smart, ambitious, and cut from the same cloth as their father.
So, I was hoping that she was coming into this marriage with the same business-before-emotion mindset.
Once I reached the sidewalk, Misha was standing next to the car, alert and observing as always.
Not only was Misha Kazeev my driver, but he was also one of the best guards in our entire organization.
The man had eyes in the back of his head, and my father had assigned him to me ten years ago.
Though he was already fifty-years-old, he was still one of the deadliest men in the business, and I trusted him just as much as I trusted my brother and father.
I got into the car, leaving Dushenka and my bad decisions in the past, then let Misha drive me back to my place. I wasn’t due at the church for another few hours, and so I wanted to get some work done before I had to head over.
As for my house itself, my primary residence was just outside the city limits, and I lived on Marlin Street in the gated community of Bakers Hills.
Now, while Bakers Hills appeared to be just like any other gated community in the country, it wasn’t.
Each house sat on an acre lot, and every house inside the gate belonged to a member of the bratva.
There were also only twenty houses in total, and the neighborhood was guarded by more firepower than was probably necessary.
I also had a condo in town that was convenient for business purposes, and because I was who I was, only family and bratva members had ever set foot in either of my homes.
However, that was all going to change after today’s festivities, and I could admit to feeling a bit out of sorts over it.
Since there was no reason for me to ever venture into Marchetti territory, everything that belonged to Aurora would remain untouched by Russian hands, unlike the way that she was going to be invading everything that I held sacred.
Just making space for her clothing and toiletries had felt a bit mechanical, not at all like a man eager to move in the love of his life.
Nonetheless, short of making an extra copy of the key to my safe, I’d done everything that I could think of to make Aurora’s arrival as painless as possible.
Sure, there was bound to be a bit of awkwardness, but that couldn’t be helped, and I usually didn’t waste my time on things that I couldn’t control.
Aurora Marchetti was about to move into the home of a man that she didn’t know, and I couldn’t imagine what that must feel like for a woman.
Though I was certain that she could take care of herself, women were still vulnerable in a way that men would never be.
Pulling out my phone, I quickly dialed my brother, and when he answered, it was to give me shit. “Well, if it isn’t the zhenikh.”
I really didn’t have time for his bridegroom nonsense. “I just informed Dushenka that I’m getting married and will no longer seek out her availability,” I told him.
Kasimir let out a low whistle. “Oh, I bet that went over well.”
“Let’s just say that I had to warn her of speaking about my wife in the future,” I replied, suddenly feeling tired as fuck.
“Hmm...I took her for being smarter than that,” he remarked absently.
Ignoring that, I said, “I want there to be no mistake when it comes to my wife, Kasimir. I want it clear that I will kill anyone who dares to disrespect her in any fashion.”
Kasimir was quiet for a bit before asking, “Including women?”
“If they are married, then we’ll make the men responsible for their wives’ actions,” I answered. “If they are not married or have a boyfriend, then we’ll go after their source of income.”
“Not a problem,” he replied easily.
“Put the word out, Kasimir,” I instructed. “No matter her ethnicity, and regardless of her former last name, she will be my wife, and I will expect every person associated with the Korolevs to treat her with the utmost respect.”
“Are you expecting trouble?” he asked, and I could practically hear the excitement in his voice.
“We’ve been raised to always expect trouble,” I pointed out.
“Which makes it a good thing that we’re always prepared,” he retorted happily.