“Excellent, thank you, sister, and my joke earlier was in very bad taste, I apologize.”
“Thank you,” she says graciously. I suspect most women would be in tears after a dumb as fuck comment like that, but even though her tone is still a bit frosty, she’s warming up to my brother.
He picks up his overnight bag. “So where am I staying?”
“Second door on the left,” I sigh.
His voice echoes loudly down the hall. “This bedroom is the most depressing thing I’ve ever seen. What’s with the metal shutters on the windows? Is this a prison?” His tone brightens, “Oh, wait. Is this a sex dungeon?”
We can hear him opening and closing drawers and I groan.
“I’m sorry that my brother is an asshole,” I say, gently squeezing her waist.
“He kind of is,” she agrees. Then her pretty sea-glass eyes narrow. “Hewasjoking with that first comment though, right?”
“Yes, hummingbird,” I run my thumb over her cheekbone, kissing her. “You are the first and only woman who has been here.”
“All right.” She goes up on tiptoes to kiss me back. “Will you ask him if he wants steak or shrimp on his salad?”
After a slightly tense beginning, Lucya is won over by Nikolai’s excessive charm and his extra dose of courtesy to make up for his terrible beginning. She’s laughing uncontrollably as he describes beating up his boat captain for nearly hitting a manatee.
“This motherfucker didn’t even look where he was going! Those manatees are slow, man. You have to watch out for them,” he says indignantly, finishing his bottle of lager. “Plus, it’s against the fuckinglaw!”
Now she’s wheezing and red-faced and I’m worried I’m going to have to give her mouth-to-mouth resuscitation.
Not thatthatcouldn’t be rewarding in its own way.
I’m pulled out of my fantasies about my bride’s lips as she calms down enough to put on her boots. “I’m going up to the roof to ice skate with Pytor.” Her bodyguard does not look enthused. “I’ll leave you two to talk.”
As the door closes, Nikolai eyes me curiously. “Do I want to know why there is an ice-skating rink on your rooftop?”
Shrugging, I open two more bottles of lager. “Because Lucya wanted one.”
He whistles. “Holy shit. Lucya Dubrovinaownsthe Angel of Death. Tell me, does she keep your balls in a jar in the fridge or is she using them as hockey pucks on the rink?”
“Do you know that the windows overlooking the harbor open?” I ask pleasantly, “Given enough velocity, I could pitch your worthless ass right into the water and feed you to the lobsters. You’ll have a lot in common, they’re bottom feeders, too.”
“Sorry,” he rubs his eyes, “I’ll tone it down. But you must admit that the likelihood of you ever finding happiness with your wife seemed slim to none. And you two do love each other. It’s almost nauseating to watch.”
“Don’t get too comfortable,” I say sourly, “you’re next on the arranged marriage chopping block.”
Nikolai displays his talent of switching from buffoon to serious Bratva man within half a second. “You know Dmitri did it. He also refused to allow an autopsy.”
“There are a dozen different ways to kill someone while simulating a heart attack,” I say, “and I’ve used them all.”
“We have to stop this, brother.” He leans forward, all angles and sharp intensity. “Last night, he sent Lukyan Agapov and his team into a shootout that he knew they’d never survive, just to show his authority.”
“Fucking bastard!” I leap to my feet. “Lukyan was one of our bestBrigadiers.”
“And he was not a fan of our brother,” he says. “I think Dmitri’s culling everyone who’s not instantly shouting their loyalty to him.”
“Lucya and I were discussing this last night.”
His brow rises. “You were discussing Bratva business with your bride-to-be?”
“She’s a smart woman,” I say proudly. “And though she doesn’t think she has anything to offer, she had a very clever observation this morning. She worked as a server atDobro pozhalovat' domoyfor four years.”
“Welcome Home?” he asks. “What is it?”
