And then this last one.
Where the fuck are you?
Me
Chill, dude.
I had my litany of questions to ask him.
When I opened the door, I spotted Kirill heading my way with a thundercloud on his face. It was the most emotion I’d seen him express. Against the gloomy surroundings, he looked like a grim reaper ready to scythe my head off.
I closed the door quietly, just as he reached me. His hand wrapped around my wrist, and he yanked me forward.
His head lowered, and before he could say anything, I snapped, “FYI, I wasn’t snooping. Your precious Anya dragged me into the room.”
“She’s not my precious Anya,” he snarled. “What did she say to you?”
“Let me see. That you’ll do anything to protect her, including sacrificing yourself by marrying me.” So, I embellished? I was good at dramatics, and I had Mamma to thank for that.
Kirill muttered an expletive, and he transferred his hand on my wrist to around my waist to keep me plastered to his side as he marched me from the quiet corner of the house back to the gathering.
I could feel him seething, proving Anya was right, and she was the only one who could break Kirill’s seemingly unflappable control.
That annoyed the competitiveness in me. That ability to rattle cages. I had trouble keeping up with his brisk strides. But with the crush of people, no one seemed to pay attention to the urgency with which we were exiting the premises except for two people.
“Slow down,” I hissed.
“Keep up,” he shot back.
“The Kings,” I said in a low voice. “Don’t look, but they’re watching us.”
Kirill slowed his stride, but the arm around me tightened.
Anya headed in the Kings’ direction, probably to distract them. At this point, I was relieved to be out of that gloomy mansion. It wasn’t even because almost everyone wore black. It was knowing what transpired there. The cover-up of a murder and I played a part in it to prevent a war.
I never hated the mafia more than I did right now. A bitter taste saturated my tongue that I was helplessly hurtling deeper into its world with faulty brakes.
When Kirill had me safely ensconced in the SUV, he punched the control for the divider and turned to me. “Talk. What about the Kings?”
“Jeremiah King approached me at the refreshments table and asked how I knew Anya.”
“And?”
“I didn’t even mention your name. I told him to get his information elsewhere and left him standing there.”
Something flickered in Kirill’s eyes. Admiration? Amusement?
“Anyway, I didn’t know who he was then, but I noticed him and his brother in the graveyard.”
“Theodore King,” Kirill muttered.
“They suspect something?” I asked nervously, because the Kings didn’t appear to be powerless men, especially the older one. He looked like he was as ruthless as any mafia boss I’d encountered, if not a bit more polished, steeped in centuries of generational wealth and power. I bet Margo or her ancestors had arranged marriages for them before.
“I’ll handle it,” Kirill said.
“Oh no, you’re not going to keep me in the dark,” I snapped. “I was flying blind in there, and it would have helped if you had filled me in on what Anya knew about that night. Did she know I saw Bruce killed?”
“Of course not. She doesn’t know you were there. She knew Viktor had killed Davenport and the state troopers had killed Viktor. I didn’t tell her I was going to marry anyone, but somehow she found out Wednesday after our prenup meeting. And that’s why I informed you she knew before we came to the funeral.”
