Page 53 of Lord of Passion

"We'regoingto talk this through,Caroline!" she snaps. "It's not like you're going to be able to concentrate on anything feeling the way you do and didn't you come home from this trip early because of the whole shooting thing? Your staff will be fine. The hotel will be fine."

"Have I ever mentioned how cute it is when you steamroll me into submission?" I ask.

"Noon. My place," she says sternly before ending the call.

***

We all show up at Liria's, bodyguards in tow. The twins are asleep, but I get a blissful moment of rolling around on the floor with Ava's adorable baby Lev before he's carried off for a nap. It's a warm day and Liria has a big lunch laid out on the table on their terrace. There's a bucket of champagne there, and another ice bucket holding a bottle of sparkling water.

"Okay, who are we toasting?" I look around sternly and Violet caves instantly.

"No, this is your day! We don't need to talk about me."

"You need to know that is such a feeble attempt at misdirection," I look at her with my "I'm not mad, I'm just disappointed" look. "Spit it out!"

A huge grin spreads over Violet's face and I see why Roman adores her. When she's joyful, she isincandescentlybeautiful. "I'm pregnant!" she says happily. "I was hoping I could get pregnant in time to have babies the same age as Liria's twins, but…" She gives me a sly smile, "Maybe you and I can produce some adorable little cousins around the same time."

"Oh, sweet Lady Gaga no!" I gasp, eyes wide with horror.

"Relax," she laughs. "I totally understand not wanting to get knocked up in the first week of your marriage to Nikandr."

"Let's all have a toast," Liria says as Ava opens the two bottles. "Then we'll get down to business. We're gonna talk this left turn of yours into What the Hell Just Happened-Ville all the way through."

***

Everyone's plates and champagne glasses are empty by the time I finish re-telling the whole tragic episode in Moscow.

"These men are very good about convincing you to marry them," Ava says. "Dmitri and I got married in St. Petersburg."

"Speak for yourself," Violet laughs. "Roman tricked me into signing a marriage license when I thought it was some grant paperwork. I didn't know we were husband and wife until a month later."

"I didn't even get convincing," Liria says sourly, and I squeeze her hand. "I got signed over with the rest of Dritan's assets.Admittedly, Alexsey has more than made up for it since, so I can't really hold a grudge."

"Oh, no," Ava says seriously. "You can hold a grudge as long as you like. Dmitri gives me shit about my Crisper of Hate-"

"Your what?" I'm laughing, clutching my champagne glass.

"My Crisper of Hate," she says. "I like to keep my grudges in there so they're nice and fresh. That way, I can be outraged all over again every time I take them out." Now, we're all howling as she takes a haughty sniff before finishing her cake.

"Okay, back to Caroline, here," Violet says. "Did anyone see this coming? I get the whole proud history of the Moscow Six and their sinister influence and blah, blah, blah, but Nikandr? He's such a smooth bastard. I refuse to believe he couldn't have found another way. Which means, he wants you.Reallywants you."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Despite the warmth of the sun on my back, I've got goosebumps going up my arms. "This is- this is a sham to keep those Moscow Bratva guys happy!"

"Uh-huh," Ava says doubtfully. "I just talked to Dmitri before lunch. He said he'd checked in with Nikandr to give him crap about the hasty wedding and he said that Nikandr lookedhappy."

"Oh, that can't be right," Liria says, "Alexsey claims that the only times he's seen Nikandr happy are when he's torturing someone or eating cake."

I flash back to him taking those little marzipan cakes away from me before I shoved the whole dessert box in Vasilisa's arms.

"Torture orcake?"I shake my head. "He's even more of a psychopath than I thought. I thought it was disturbing enough when he thought my folded underwear was normal."

"Who the hell folds their underwear?" Ava says. "Also, I suspect Nikandr's correct diagnosis would be a sociopath."

"Wait," Violet says. "Who did he say moved your things?"

"Someone named Delores," I say, still stuck on torture, or cake.

She pats my hand. "Oh, honey. I'm sorry. She's in her mid-thirties, he made it sound like she's a sweet, grandmotherly type. She's crazy about him. And he sent her to move your things? I'm relieved she didn't lace your bras with poison."