I listed my pros and cons.
Pros:
Avoid a war between the Italians and the Russians.
Put an end to my covenant with Marriage Ink, aka Margo Winthrop.
Investigate why Kolya is still in jail. Who knows, I might find a way to put Kirill away.
Mamma might be ecstatic. Although I wasn’t sure if that was a pro. If it would get her nagging off my back…definitely a pro.
Cons:
Marriage to an iceberg. Listen, as long as he forgets my existence, that might actually be a pro.
Marry into a family where every single member wants me dead for putting their precious Kolya in jail. In my defense, I had nothing directly to do with it. But my suspicion meter was high regarding why Kirill hadn’t gotten him out yet.
Dom and Luca would shit a brick, not to mention my entire family.
Despite my strong aversion to Kirill’s marriage proposal, it was looking more and more that an arranged marriage wasn’t the worst thing that could happen. Any reservations I had could be ironed out in the prenup.
I didn’t want to straight-out say he wasn’t my type because he would only take that as a challenge. I had no desire to incite him further because, clearly, he was finding sadistic amusement in clashing with me. I preferred dating green-flag, golden retriever men. Men who weren’t selfish, who thought about the environment and justice for the weak.
The men in my family were so overbearing and frequently brought out the worst in me, I had no desire to be married to one. I could only take them in small doses. So it was good that Kirill had already said that this marriage was temporary.
Dad was an exception to the rule. He wasn’t bossy; he was protective. I moved back to New York, mostly for him, because after nearly losing him last year to one of the bratva’s rogue soldiers, it reiterated how life could be cut short in an instant.
Kirill was a newly minted pakhan. He had a lot to prove even when he was the heir apparent. He needed a wife to legitimize his reign. We could help each other even when we couldn’t stand each other.
Another pro: I could force him to set money aside for a charity toward a victims fund. There was so much to process tonight, including how I was so numb to Viktor’s killing. But my concern was always for the victims of mob violence. Something Kirill said nagged at me. Putting the killing of Viktor on the troopers, would their families be at risk for retaliation?
A quick rap sounded on the door. Earlier, it was the maid who brought in a first aid kit. This rap was different. Not tentative but more authoritative.
Margo Winthrop was here.
I rolled off the bed to admit the matchmaker into the room. The same maid was standing behind her, holding a garment bag and an overnight one that screamed quiet luxury.
I raised a brow. “I don’t need a makeover.”
Margo eyed me from head to toe before sweeping into the room. “Are you okay?”
I reached for the items the maid was holding. “I've got it from here.”
“Yes, ma’am.” She curtsied and scurried away. So, the Zahkarovs were one of those archaic households.
Hmm, but she didn’t curtsy earlier. I turned to Margo. “Did you terrify the maid?”
She shrugged her shoulders. “I simply told her not to gossip about anything here if she valued her job; and this isn’t a makeover.”
“What is this, then?” I dropped the oddly light bag on the floor and unzipped the garment bag to see an ivory sheath dress. “This is something I’d wear to Sunday breakfast at the Plaza.”
“Exactly,” Margo said. “And that overnight bag would announce to the press that your stay at Kirill’s house was planned. It wasn’t a one-night stand. That you’ve been low-key seeing each other for a while. Ideally, I would have shown you having brunch this morning, but even I know you might not have pulled it off at a short notice. I’m sure I can say the same about Kirill.”
“Do you know what happened last night?”
Something flickered in her eyes before she said, “Unfortunately.” She gave a tiny huff. “Yes, you killed Viktor. Yes, two state troopers are dead, and yes, as of this second, the press will’ve caught wind that there are ambulances in front of Bruce Davenport’s house.”
“And you think I can simply sit down to brunch and act like a couple with…with Kirill?” My voice pitched higher. I thought I had come to grips with what had happened and the planned cover-up, but I was feeling extremely nauseated right now. Anxiety I’d been suppressing since last night rushed up my throat. I ran to the bathroom and emptied bile and tension into the toilet.
