“Are you still hungry?” he asked when we were back on the road.
“Don’t you have to be elsewhere?” I didn’t want to mention Anya and be petty.
He hitched his shoulders. “Not until tonight.”
Where would he be on a Sunday night?
As if reading my mind, he said, “Atlantic City.”
“Oh. Bratva business.”
Kirill sighed. “Yes. I’ll be busy in the weeks leading up to the wedding, Lucy. This was another reason I wanted to see you today, because I might not get a chance other than dropping at the lawyer’s office to sign the prenup. Peter called me last night and said he’s sending his second-in-command to negotiate the release of Viktor’s body. In the eyes of law enforcement, I am nowhere near the body or this shitstorm, but in Peter’s eyes, he’s expecting me to pull some strings to get the feds to release Viktor’s body and get the heat off Moscow. After all, the DEA and ATF are involved after finding guns and narcotics in the trunk. Made me wonder if it would have been simpler for them to find Davenport’s body, then at least we’d only be dealing with the state police.”
“Unless it becomes a bigger scandal, and will still become a fed investigation involving the Department of Justice,” I said.
“Yes.” He paused before replying, “We’ll be good together.”
“You think?” I said, grinning. “What? Burying your scandals? Is that why you’re marrying me, Kirill?”
He didn’t answer me until we arrived at the restaurant for brunch. I was surprised he booked us a private room, and champagne was already chilling in a bucket.
I didn’t know whether I could drink more alcohol. I was already buzzed at the cake tasting, not to mention the amount of sugar running in my blood.
He pulled out my chair and took the one right beside me. It was a table that could seat four.
I glanced at the tasting menu before us and saw it was emblazoned with our names. Mr. Zahkarov and Miss De Lucci.
It had all my favorite dishes. Glazed oysters with osetra, chilled lobster, duck confit, and rack of lamb.
“This is a lot for brunch.”
“We have all afternoon to enjoy it,” he said.
A white-gloved server entered the room, and Kirill gave him the signal to pop the champagne.
“How in the world did you find out my favorites?” I asked.
“Irina asked your mother.”
I laughed briefly. Of course. Everything about my future husband needn’t be cloak and dagger.
After the waiter left the room, Kirill raised his flute. “You have surprised me repeatedly, and I have a feeling we can have a good marriage.”
It wasn’t romantic, but I appreciated his honesty. Any flowery words would have landed dismally, and Kirill was a man of action. He’d taken the effort with the ring and booking us this lunch of my favorite things.
“To a good marriage.”
He grinned. “And maybe more.”
I smiled back and we clinked our glasses.
After the toast, he cleared his throat. “You asked why I’m marrying you? You know you’re beautiful, Lucy, and you have esteemed family connections. But I appreciate your ability to read the room. King could have charmed information out of you, but you walked away. You’re familiar with the intricacies of different law enforcement agencies and might very well save me from missteps. I want you by my side at events. If nothing else, we’ll have a good partnership.”
“I wasn’t sure I could even stand you,” I said honestly. “I have an aversion to overbearing men, and the quickest way to push me away is to become a tyrant in our marriage.”
“I can’t help the way I am, but you have no problem correcting me or arguing.” His mouth tipped up. “I find that refreshing.”
“Arguing comes with the law degree territory.”
