Lauren forgot where she was and what was happening for the sheer astonishment of the moment. Cringing a little as everyone turned with a frown, she waved weakly. "I apologize. There's a lot of big revelations right now. I'll just... uh...." Sitting down, she dragged Clara with her. "That's yourdad?"she whispered fiercely, nodding to the grey-colored Scandinavian.
Clara nodded, clearly amused. "I take after my mother's side of the family. But I always did love Pappa's business sense. And I can play the long game, as you see. Arabella didn't know who I was until this trip, but I was the one who managed to introduce her to my father in the first place. Their thing happened on its own."
Shaking her head, Lauren still discreetly stared at Martinsson, who was standing very close to a sober and pleased-looking Arabella. "Your dad..." she mumbled thoughtfully. "So, this was all a plan to get into The Corporation's inner circle?"
There was a low chuckle. "Well, you know how men get after an orgasm. Michael was very chatty." Lauren felt a chill when she looked at her (former?) friend's eyes. They were as flat and blank as a rattlesnake's. Just like her father's.
Lauren was quite correct that there was no time to head back to the hotel and recover, but suddenly there was a complete outfit waiting for her and a bag of cosmetics. Thomas drew her to the bathroom, wetting a cloth and gently wiping her face and her hands. "I know this has been an unimaginable day," he said kindly, pressing his hand against her sore cheek and gently stroking it with a careful thumb. "But do you think you can be my brave girl a little longer?"
"Of course," Lauren looked at him as if it was obvious. "But, how are you? This has been..." she floundered for a moment, not sure how one asked one's husband if he was okay with cutting his half-brother to pieces and seeing the last remaining member of The Corporation's management team shot to death.
But her husband gave her the most charming smile, leaning in for a moment to press his forehead against hers. And then Thomas started humming. Lauren's brow furrowed. Humming? What the hell was he- she burst out laughing. He was, in fact, humming the tune of99 Red Balloons.Getting dressed in her new outfit, she giddily sang along.
It was Deja vu of the worst sort to step back into the Bratva's gigantic restaurant, bracing for another round of hugs and kisses from the poisonous mouths of the Wives.
But Lauren gritted her teeth, feeling curiously comforted by having Clara and Arabella at her back. In fact, she watched with some amusement as Number One's "grieving" widow took point, smoothly inserting herself into the conversation between all the women. Even Clara, who still played the guileless newlywed since the Russians didn't know yet what happened to Fassell or MacGowen, moved between Lauren and some giggling, grabby maneuvers from Romanoff’s pretty little wife Zia. It all gave her some breathing room and a moment of spiteful satisfaction seeing quickly concealed shock from Mogilevich and his men as The Corporation's new Number One strolled in, flanked by the unlikely pair of Martinsson and Boucher. To his credit, the Bratva head knew when he was being outmaneuvered. "Gentlemen," he rasped, "a quiet meeting before dinner, yes?"
"This is ridiculous!" growled Arabella, enjoying a brimming glass of vodka - her third - without any seeming ill-effects. "The men clustered together and making the 'big' decisions-" she mocking made quotation marks with two fingers on each hand, an impressive skill when still holding the vodka, "while we're out here and being mauled by the lipstick lesbians."
"I think they're more bisexual," Lauren volunteered. She leaned in, nudging her older friend. "So... you and Martinsson?"
Arabella examined her, an amused pout to her Juvaderm'ed lips. "He sees me as a partner. Shocking, I know. Everything they're discussing in there-" she nodded towards the double set of doors the men had disappeared through, "was put together by the two of us. Equally."
Stealing more dumplings from a passing waiter, Lauren shoved one in her mouth, chewing thoughtfully. Eyes turning to Clara, she suspected the redhead also had a pretty good idea of the negotiations. Which made her the odd one out. The dupe. Still, before her insecurity could rise and make her feel like nothing, the girl straightened her spine. It might not have happened until here in St. Petersburg, but she and Thomas were partners now. For real. "So," she swallowed the dumpling. "What's Clara going to call you? Mum? Or Mother?" The slitted-eyed glare Arabella gave her almost made the whole fucked-up day worth it.
Part of the subtle power change was clear when Thomas made for Lauren, taking her arm and seating her next to him at the vast dinner table, rather than with the Bratva wives. And there she stayed, listening to the conversation with a secret smile, enjoying how much they were giving away without realizing she could understand them. And after dessert and tiny cups of coffee as black as coal and as thick as tar, they all piled in the luxury SUV's and made their way back to the hotel.
"You must be exhausted, love." Thomas held Lauren's drooping head in his hands, looking down at her tenderly. "But I am so proud of you."
Smiling up at him, she nodded, "When we get back to London, we're going to sleep for a week straight, and I personally, will shoot the first person who wakes us up." Enjoying her husband's somewhat startled laughter, Lauren sobered a bit. "Tell me. Please. I need to know what happened."
To her surprise, Thomas didn't smoothly brush her off or herd her quickly to bed. Seating her on the couch where he'd made love to her so forcefully just a few days before, her husband took off her high heels and began rubbing her feet. "Mogilevich was not happy. But he had the grace to be embarrassed at such an amateurish stunt."
Lauren forced a smile. It was easy to call it that now, but she knew her husband- who was never, ever caught off guard, had not seen any of this coming. Or had he? "Wait. Did you know something was off when we got here? Is that why you got Mssr. Boucher to come to St. Petersburg?"
He frowned, the fingers massaging her sore toes slowing, Lauren noticed to some regret. "The first night. Everything was going wrong, even though we-youdiscovered the drug trade. Clever girl," Thomas said fondly, leaning in for a kiss. "But I knew The Corporation power structure was disintegrating. Boucher is the only partner powerful enough to engage in negotiation with me, allied against whatever games Kingston or Fassell were attempting. Though they both had their own plans, as it turned out."
"Yeah, you didn't see Clara coming, either, right?" Lauren shook her head, "And Arabella and that crazy-eyed Dane? Seriously!"
Thomas laughed. "Well, Martinsson's grandiose plan of taking over Jaguar Holdings was almost as unrealistic as Michael's and-" his mouth thinned, thinking of what MacGowen had done to his wife. "But Boucher and I were willing to... share. He will accept his part."
Taking a deep breath, Lauren braced herself. "And what is everyone's uh, part?"
He didn't answer her right away, staring at her wide violet eyes, still seeing her trust. Her faith in him. "We are breaking The Corporation apart and creating new divisions. Martinsson will be taking over the illegal financials and money laundering." Thomas paused; he knew that his wife liked the Frenchman. "Boucher is absorbing our arms trading and chemical weapons."
Lauren's smile faded. She remembered that night when she and the grandfatherly man had spoken of the convent, of the nuns and their beehives. And then she pictured the horrors he could unleash on the world with sales to any radical cult. Nodding in a short, jerky fashion, she asked, "And what do we take over?"
Thomas picked up her foot, kissing the tip of each toe. "I began passing information to an MI:6 agent months ago, framing Fassell and Kingston for the new turn into sex trafficking." His mouth twisted contemptuously. "They weren't interested until I threw in some large-scale bank fraud. But it was part of a plan." he pulled her onto his lap, ignoring her startled yelp. "I had a plan to remove you and me from the illegal part of The Corporation. From The Corporation entirely, in fact." Thomas enjoyed her stunned expression for a moment, then continued. "I still have enough information to feed them - pinning quite a bit of the activity on my dear, late half-brother, that will satisfy MI:6. They'll have to find new ways into Martinsson and Boucher's syndicates, but we will not be part of them. I have carved out the legitimate financial division of Jaguar Holdings, including your grandfather's company." Lauren was utterly still for a moment, then surged forward to kiss him greedily, hands gripping the tailored shoulders of his expensive suit.
For a moment, Thomas just allowed himself to love his wife, to treasure the feel of her kisses. But then he gently took her wrists and pulled her away when she tried to loosen his tie and unbutton his shirt. "Love, tomorrow, when you've rested, I must ask you a question. Because we're moving into the legal portion of Jaguar Holdings does not mean we are... we are safe. You might need a bodyguard for life. There are other intelligence agencies aside from MI:6 that might come for us. Boucher or Martinsson may run into difficulty and attempt to drag us back into their net." He paused for a moment, gathering courage, kissing her hands. "I am not a good man, Lauren. But for you, I want to be a better man." Her eyes were glossy and Thomas gave her a tender smile, carrying her to the bed and carefully undressing her, kissing each new bit of skin he revealed. Watching her fall asleep, he wondered how she could possibly stay with him.
He remembered every moment vividly after being pushed into that hotel room, Lauren handcuffed and her face swollen from his piece of shite brother. How he pulled his knife before MacGowen could wield his. Cutting until what was left beneath him was unrecognizable, and he looked up to see Lauren staring at him. Staring at the bloody monster she'd married.
Gathering his sleeping wife in his arms, Thomas spent the night staring at the ceiling, enjoying the feeling of the only pure thing in his life.
Chapter 41 – I am not a good man. But I am in love with you.
In which Thomas does things properly.
