Chapter 21

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Mikhail

I watchmy wife get ready for our gala, a bit stunned that she’s mine. I stare at her from a distance, sitting in my desk chair while she puts the finishing touches on her makeup.

Is she pregnant? I don’t know, but I hope that it’s just a matter of time.

It’s not just that I need to secure my place as pakhan of the Romanov Bratva. It’s so much more than that.

I want to solidify my relationship with the only woman I have ever loved. I need to make sure my family is secure, and establishing ourselves as a family unit with a solid footing in this world is the easiest way to do just that.

"You are a million miles away, Mikhail,” Aria says with a twinkle in her eyes. The nausea from this morning has abated, due in no small part to her ability to spar with Aleks. He is excellent at what he does.

She’s better.

Aria comes alive under the light of a monitor, her fingers flying as if she’s dancing. She circumvents every firewall, every safety mechanism in place until she gets what we need.

If the FBI knew about a woman like her, they would pay top dollar to secure her. Or put her in jail.

But Aria Romanov is mine.

Finally, she places her lipstick on the vanity I’ve installed in here for her and walks over gracefully to me like a satisfied kitten ready to purr. I reach my hand to the back of her neck and bring her mouth to mine while I hold her body to me.

“Lipthtick,” she mutters though her eyes twinkle at me. “Do you really want Pretty in Pink smeared all over those lips?”

I shrug and drag a lazy hand across my lips. “Take a part of you with me? Of course.”

She places her hand on my shaven jaw, holding my eyes with hers.

“Listen, I know that we’re basically swimming with sharks tonight. I further know that I’m basically diving in there with fresh blood on me. I know that they’re prepared to attack, but I further know that you,” she reaches for my tie and adjusts it just so, "will do everything within your power to stop anyone from hurting me." She holds her head high. "Let’s show them who we are.”

Pride surges through me and I press her to me. I don’t want to let her go.

“The hair! First the lipstick and now the hair!”

I let her go with a teasing smack to the ass. “You’re beautiful. Let them see smeared lipstick and mussed up hair and know you’re mine.”

I like to think we’re untouchable, but past experience has taught me well. Still, I spin her around and place her in front of me, so we stand in front of the mirrored doors to the closet. Me, much taller than her, dressed in formal attire that I hate. My queen, dressed in luxurious black satin.

"They will weep with jealousy when they see you." And weep with pain if they so much as give her a dirty look.

The entire way to the gala, Aria chats excitedly about what she discovered today. It turns out being friends with my brother actually comes in handy. "I had no idea there was a potential entry point for exportation with that new software the government installed,” she says, her eyes gleaming, as if someone just told her the best news she’s ever heard in her life. "Do you have any idea what this means?"

Yes, of course I do. It means that she’s going to be able to hack into more databases than we ever have, securing information for my family that we need. "Do you know what would be the funniest thing in the world? A CTF competition, with me and Aleks and whoever else you have.”

"Aria, what the hell is a CTF competition?"

"Capture the flag. Honestly, Mikhail, do you know nothing about hacking?"

"Do you know nothing of the Russian language? My knowledge about hacking is about the same."

She gives me a smug little smile. "Zdravstvuyte! Kak dela? I’ve been practicing."

Sassy little girl.

When we arrive, Nikko’s waiting outside with a joint pressed to his lips. He throws it on the ground and grinds it out with his heel when he sees me coming. While I don’t forbid them smoking pot, I don’t encourage it. Not when there’s so much at stake. Tonight? I might ask him if he has another.

“Tell me again who that is," she says. "I remember everybody’s names, and I do remember their jobs, but I need a refresher."

Is my little hacker wife admitting that there’s a flaw to her perfect recall memory? She was under stress the last time she met everybody, when we were all together anyway. It was weeks ago at our wedding.

Nikko is our family assassin, but she doesn’t need to know that.

“Nikko,” I say affectionately. "When we were in high school, they joked that he looked like Superman."

“It’s those rugged, boy-next-door good looks. I bet that comes in handy.”

Sharp jawline, piercing eyes, tousled hair. What those girls who swooned over Nikko didn’t know was how lethal he is when it comes to a hired hit.

"You know Aleks. And Lev." Lev often helps us because he’s our team strategist. My youngest brother is also a trained fighter. With his athletic build, he’s the one we send in to maneuver through tricky situations and defend himself if needed. He’s confident, with a magnetic presence that women everywhere swoon over. He never dates, though. He’s too occupied with other things.

"Do you member Kolya?”

"Of course I do. Your father’s buddy, right? The older guy?"

He would cringe to hear her call him the "older guy." He’s only fifty years old, but he’s the only one with silver in his hair and beard, and he’s more fit than men half his age. More like an older brother than father figure to any of us, our group mastermind oversees all operations.

"Who’s the one that’s always wearing leather, with those green eyes?”

“Ollie." We sometimes call him “The Lone Wolf” because of the wolf tattoo on his shoulder and his propensity for doing things alone. He likes to be alone.

"OK, so far we have Ollie, the lone one in leather, Nikko the scary weapon guy. And then there’s the younger one, Lev, who looks like he power lifts on lunch breaks. He’s the one that picked us up on our wedding night. Kolya, your dad’s war buddy. Aleksandr, Polina, and your mother. What should I call her?”

“Ekaterina.”

"Wow, that’s a beautiful name. But you have one more brother, don’t you?"

"Viktor. You’ve only met him once, at the wedding. The one with the scar on his cheek? Shaved head?”

“Ah, yes. I didn’t think anybody was scarier than you, Mikhail, but he has you beat."

“Is that right? Is this a test? Do you need a demonstration?”

I love that shy little look she gives me. “It’s just that scar on his cheek. Oh, and the fact that he’s always wearing that black leather jacket. He’s easily fifty pounds heavier than you, and he doesn’t mind carrying weapons everywhere he goes. People scatter like scared little mice in his wake. What’s his nickname?"

"The Iron Fist.”

"You guys seriously do not fu – mess around, do you?"

I shake my head when we pull up to my childhood home, where my mother’s hosting the gala.

This is the first gala we’ve ever hosted here in the absence of my father. No wonder my mother is so worried.

"You didn’t tell me she lived in Manhattan! This place is beautiful." Her eyes shine as she takes it all in. It’s a wintry feast for the eyes with ice sculptures showcased with spotlights and a well-kept winter garden. I happen to know for a fact that my mother and Polina have been hard at work making sure every single detail was perfect before tonight’s event.

“Show me around?”

“Of course.”

But before we even make it inside, a silver limo pulls up right beside me. Jesus Christ.

“Lemme guess,” she says with a sour look on her face. “Volkov. I can tell just by the way your eyes look murderous.”

"I also don’t need to tell you not to look at him, or talk to him," I say, in a low, warning voice. "Right?"

"Yeah, definitely not."

Before we got here, I got a message from Lev detailing how he knows Volkov suspects that I am trying to get my new wife pregnant. Apparently, he’s put bugs in place at every local OB’s office, and even made sure that pharmacies that sell pregnancy tests are out of stock. Volkov’s aging tendencies are beginning to show. First of all, we’re not meeting an OB at any old office. And I would never buy a test from a fucking pharmacy.

Most importantly, though, he has to know that my wife is going to carry my baby, and there’s nothing he can do about it. I’ve warned him, and he knows better than to cross me.

"Good evening, Mikhail.” His oily voice mars the crisp evening air. I take Aria and hold her to my side.

“What have we here? Your beautiful wife. I have to admit, I didn’t think she’d marry someone like you." He gives Aria a sardonic grin. "How much did he pay you, beautiful?"

"Ignore him," I say through clenched teeth, noting the pink flare of heat on Aria’s cheeks. She turns away from him with a haughty expression on her face and begins to walk away.

"Don’t you dare turn your back on me," Volkov snaps. “It seems Mikhail hasn’t taught you manners.”

In three steps I’m in his space, my hand wrapped around his scrawny neck. Three of his guards immediately come after me, when my brothers step out of the shadows.

Nikko holds a wicked blade. Lev, a pistol. Viktor stands with a towering presence, daring anyone to start something the night of the gala. He needs no weapons. I continue to hold Volkov by the throat and press him against his limo.

"I warned you, old man. You’ll speak with respect to my wife. I don’t care who you are, if you talk to her again tonight, you’re going down. If your men try to defend you, we’ll have a battle on our hands. Do you really want to do that right now?"

This gala is the Romanov family’s night. If his family causes a scene at this event, it will have the exact opposite effect on the local people that us hosting it has. Where others see us as philanthropists, keystone members of the community, if he does anything to start violence against us, he will be blackballed and ostracized from the community.

There is only so much that money can buy.

He practically spits fire at me but doesn’t respond. I continue. “The only olive branch you’re getting is the fact that you’re still breathing. Do you really want to play this card? So soon?”

This man is responsible for my father’s death. This man made any woman who came near me a target. I know for a fact that he’ll stop at nothing to hurt Aria, or our unborn child. I need to stop that before he even gets one toe in the door.

Other guests begin to arrive in limos and armored SUVs. There’s a rush of dresses, the click of high heels, the scent of luxury in the air when I finally let Volkov go. He shrugs me off and brushes his clothes, as if removing any fragments of dust that cling to him from my hands.

Soon, I’ve forgotten Volkov and his insidious presence when I bring Aria to my mother. My mother glides across the ballroom effortlessly, engaging in conversation with anyone and everyone. Every time she sees Aria, she smiles, and at one point she blows a kiss at her.

"Okay, I love your mom." She eyes the wine on the table and then decides instead to drink water.

"Champagne, madam?"

She shakes her head, and I hold her champagne in my hand.

"The shipments have arrived," Lev says in my ear. Perfect. Aria’s plan worked.

I turn to tell Aria when I realize she’s doubled over in her seat, clutching her abdomen.

“What is it, baby? Are you alright?”

She shakes her head.

"Poor baby," a cold voice says over my shoulder. "Was it something she drank? Or something she ate?"

I have to ignore Volkov to tend to her. Her face is pale and she’s in obvious distress.

"Something’s wrong," she says in a whisper of a voice.

“Polina!” I hail my sister from across the room. She stares at me when she hears my tone. All eyes in the room come to me but I don’t care. Polina runs to me in a rush of shimmery silver clothes.

“She said she’s sick. What’s going on?" Polina bends down and whispers to Aria. Aria clutches her abdomen. I’ve never felt so helpless in my life. Polina puts a hand to her head and asks her a few questions.

“Call an ambulance, Mikhail,” Polina says quietly. "She needs to be seen immediately." She’s kneeling beside my sister, her normally pale face even whiter than usual. She holds her hand. "Now."