“Man, I’d love to talk more about dear Anya,” he continued. “But can we fucking do it in the car? I want to get far away from here. And it’s freezing as fuck.”
My phone rang as we trudged back to the SUV. It was Lucy.
I answered the call as I slid back into the SUV.
“Aralina wants to know what time you and Kolya are arriving,” my wife said in a bland tone so similar to mine I wanted to mock her.
No hello, darling husband? How was your drive?
Instead, I just said in an equally bland tone, “I just picked him up.”
“I’m switching to video. Can you hand the phone to him, please? Aralina wants to see him.”
If it were anyone but Kolya, I would say no. “Aralina,” I informed him.
“Hey, squirt,” my friend greeted my sister.
I kept my attention on the road. Since Aralina and Kolya were signing anyway, there was nothing to listen to. Kolya would speak sometimes. He was fond of my sister, but I could tell he wasn’t pleased that there was going to be a party for him later.
I hated parties when it was only family around. It was a waste of time. We seemed to have a lot of them lately. And each one annoyed me more than the last one and it had everything to do with my darling wife and how I’d become accustomed to seeing her warm smiles when it wasn’t directed at me.
When she had to fake it with me, there was a particular muscle in her cheek that seemed to freeze, and I could tell it was her special fake-for-Kirill smile.
When the call ended, Kolya tossed my phone on the dashboard and turned to me. “A party. Is this your wife’s idea?”
“How would I know?”
“Because she’s your wife?”
My jaw hardened. “Exactly. She’s in charge of domestic things. I’m in charge of running the bratva, including picking up your ass. What the fuck do I know about what parties she’s planning until she puts it on my calendar?”
“We need to clue her in that the first thing an ex-inmate wants out of prison is to drown in pussy and vodka, not attend a damned fucking party with balloons and shit.”
“I’ll put that in the bratva bylaws,” I said dryly.
“Is there a reason we’re driving and not taking the plane? I’m offended, Kirill.”
“I felt like driving.”
“For five hours? I could have fucked a woman for four hours before showing up at the party.”
I kept quiet. I couldn’t mock Kolya for being ungrateful, even as a joke. Shit. The man sacrificed a year of his life in prison for the bratva. Maybe I should have fired up the plane. Maybe I should have organized a welcome-home party for him at the gentlemen’s club instead, but it didn’t occur to me because, being an assassin, Kolya was very particular about the women he’d stick his dick in. He was careful and secretive about who he allowed in his bed.
“So I guess a year of fucking your fist has changed your standards.”
Kolya gave a derisive snort. “Let’s get back to the subject of your wife.”
“Let’s not.”
But he continued as if he hadn’t heard the warning in my tone. “You want me to mess with her, then? Like scare her.”
“Let me make this clear since I haven’t.” I glanced at Kolya to make sure he knew I wanted his full attention. “Lucy is my problem. She’s my wife. I’m the only one allowed to make her wish she’d never married me. Understand?”
A chuckle rumbled up Kolya’s throat. “Oh, brother. You are so fucked.”
Chapter
Sixteen
