Page 33 of Lord of Passion

"Speaking with other crime families during negotiations tends to be more formal. There's a bit of, as you said, flowery language," I say, turning on the bathroom light and pulling out a hotel robe, laying it out on the bed for her.

"Wait, how was that negotiation? That was a kidnapping!" she says indignantly.

"You'd be surprised at how many meetings I've held have started that way."

She's standing in the middle of the bedroom; her hair is still up in that messy ponytail and her lipstick's gone because she's been biting her lower lip.

Watching her chew absently on that lush lip makes me want to pull it free with my thumb.

Push my thumb inside her mouth.

Tell her to "Suck, like a good girl."

Fuck. Concentrate, you asshole!

"It will be safer if you stay here tonight," I say, subtly adjusting my pants. "We can concentrate our guards in one place."

She's just shell-shocked enough to allow it. "Oh…" She looks at the bed, the robe I've laid out for her. There's a low murmur from the guards in the main room and Alexsey's familiar voice as he gives instructions. "Okay. I'm not taking anyone's bed here, right?" Her eyes narrow at me.

Suspicious little thing.

"No, you're not crawling into my bed, darling. Though my room is right next door should you need me." My insolent smile is enough to irritate her back into our usual dynamic.

"That won't be happening," she says. "I know howdesperatelyyou need your beauty sleep."

I can't help it. Bursting into laughter, I nod. "That's my girl."

"I am not your girl!" she yells, her indignant voice cut off when I shut the door.

My good mood vanishes instantly when I see Alexsey's stern expression. Running my hands over my face with a groan, I sink into an armchair by the window. Outside, the street is empty, just the occasional bus or a taxi taking a late-night reveler home.

"That fucking Cossack prick Dariy Agapov is not the type to let a little thing like Caroline being married to stop him from chasing her down," I say to Alexsey.

"Of course, attempting this with a Morozov Bratva spouse is punishable by death, no matter how valuable his organization is." Alexsey hands me a tumbler with three fingers of vodka. "I squeezed a bit of lemon in it. Prevents scurvy."

I down half of it while I glare at him over the rim of the glass. "We still have an issue here. It's likely Agapov has already spread his tentacles over Moscow, looking for the civil servant or the marriage license that would prove my claim. It shouldn't fucking matter if Caroline is my wife. She's under the protection of the Morozov Bratva."

"You know that just saying she's yours is not enough, Nik." Alexsey sits next to me, stretching out his legs on an ottoman.

"I could put her on the jet and fly her out of Moscow within the hour," I'd said, irritably yanking on my tie. "Then this issue is done."

"You told the most gossipy bitch in Russia that you, theSovietnikof the Morozov Bratva, are married," he insists on needlessly pointing out. "That means that by now, the Moscow Six Families know. Preparations are already being made, gifts being sent, and strongly worded suggestions that you hold a proper weddinghereare already flooding the family."

"And telling them that, 'Oh, it was a bit of a joke to keep Agapov's hands off Caroline' once they've made these gestures is now insulting them as well." I crack my neck, one direction and then the other.

"Iisus Khristos,every time you do that it sounds like a tree getting hit by lightning," Alexsey winces. "Bones aren't supposed to sound like that. Unless we're actually breaking someone's femur."

"The femur is the strongest bone in the human body," I nod approvingly. "Hearing the bone break and the resulting screaming is always so satisfying. But back to the problem at hand."

"Call Caroline a problem in front of my wife, and I won't stop her from stabbing you," he warns. "Coming home with the news that you've married her cousin - when she knows Caroline thinks you're an asshole - is a tough fucking sell as it is."

"Caroline doesn't think I'm an asshole," I frown haughtily. "Women love me."

"Yeah, keep telling yourself that," Alexsey says, finishing his drink. "And you've been pissed at her since she kicked your ass in that poker game."

"She didn't kick my ass!" I snap. "She had one lucky hand."

He laughs at me, thesvoloch'.