“Honestly, Tigran, is this really necessary?” Aunt Sona scowls at me as she empties her purse on the dining room table. “This is beyond paranoid.”
“Can’t be too careful,” I grunt as I go through her stuff. “That’s a lot of lipstick. Six tubes? Nine? What the hell do you need all that for?”
“If you’re going to invade my personal space, at least try not to embarrass me as well,” she snaps, shoving her things away. There’s nothing interesting aside from a weird makeup obsession.
“If you’d prefer, I can have one of my men do this search?”
“I’d like to see you try,” she says, glaring hard. That woman may be aging, but she’s still got a damn fire in her. I’m having fun, even though she wants to kill me.
“Would you two stop?” Arsen says, sounding exhausted. “Can we please get this over with?”
I roughly pat my brother down. He shakes his head the whole time, his jaw working with frustration.
“My wife was nearly killed by a car bomb a few days ago. She was on her way to a meeting with you two. Security is understandably fucking tight right now.”
“We’re the last two people in the world that want her dead,” Arsen points out when I’m done frisking him. No weapons, as requested, which is actually kind of touching. My brother doesn’t like going anywhere without at least a gun.
That trait runs in the family.
“I went to great personal pains to arrange your marriage,” Aunt Sona says smartly, straightening her pantsuit. She’s got nothing on her either, and I made sure of that. No part of me thinks Arsen was involved, and no part of me trusts Sona enough for her to be above suspicion.
“And I’m sure you’d go through great personal pains to kill her if that’s what you felt was right. Remember how we were at war not that long ago?”
“The war is behind us now,” she says, putting a fist in my face. “And if you keep going on—”
“If you two don’t stop bickering, I’m going to have you both killed,” Arsen snaps, finally sounding at the end of his patience. “Tigran, I respect your dedication to security. Your wife’s safety is all of our priority, even yours, Sona.’ He gives her a hard look until she sighs and nods her head. “Now, please, introduce us officially.”
Reluctantly, I lead them upstairs. Several guards lurk nearby, all of them loyal to me personally. That’s the thing with crime families: our employees tend to kill for whoever’s writing the checks. Or in this case, whoever’s handing out the enormous cash payments.
Our family’s similar to the McGrath clan. Where Liam runs their business, Arsen’s our leader and head. Which leaves me in Seamus’s position. I’m our war chief, our killer, our knife. When the family was at war with itself, I was the one out murdering cousins and killing uncles. And afterward, when Arsen brought everyone back together and began to change the structure of the Brotherhood, I was the one to make an example of anyone who complained.
I earned my reputation the hard way. But I’m not stupid enough to think I can do it all alone.
Which is why my personal guards are very well paid, and I go to pains to make sure they know that they can owe their good life to me.
Vito’s waiting outside Dasha’s door. He shakes Arsen’s hand respectfully and gives a quick hug and a cheek kiss to Sona.
“You old dog, you’re still kicking,” Aunt Sona says, smiling at the man and making eyes like she wants to sleep with him right there in the hall. Which is disgusting, since I find her so reprehensible, but also she’s married to someone else.
“It’s good to see you again, Sona. It has been much too long.”
“I’d heard you’d retired, but I didn’t know you worked for this little cretin.”
“Ah, I wouldn’t call him that. And I wouldn’t say I’m retired, either.” Vito beams at her and gestures toward the door. “Now, please, Dasha’s waiting. I just want to warn you both that she’s been nervous about this all day, so take it easy on her.”
Aunt Sona snorts. “Nervous for what? We’re family now.”
“She must know how unpleasant you are,” I say firmly before knocking on the door. Better to get this over with than to linger out here talking all night. Poor Dasha’s probably pacing around, turning this whole meeting into something bigger than it is.
Dasha welcomes everyone into her rooms graciously. She’s in a smart blouse with a pair of gray slacks. Her heels make her a few inches taller, although I prefer it when she’s small. I like my tiny little wife with her braided blonde hair and her little pink nipples.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” she says stiffly, shaking Arsen’s hand. “Tigran’s said a lot about you.”
“Has he?” Arsen seems surprised. “Talking shit about me, brother?”
“If speaking the truth is talking shit.”
“You bastard. Whatever he’s saying, believe every word. I’m just as bad, or maybe worse.” Arsen’s got his charm going, and it seems to put Dasha slightly at ease.
I’m starting to think maybe this won’t be so bad, at least until Aunt Sona steps up with that pinched little glare. She’s got the definition of resting bitch face. The exterior matches the interior, in her case.
“Hello, Dasha, my name is Sona.” She thrusts out her hand like a karate chop.
“Erm, hello.” Dasha takes it. Sona looks like she’s trying to break my wife’s fingers. My jaw works, but Dasha seems fine. “It’s lovely to meet you as well.”
“Let’s sit,” I bark before Sona can say something to piss me off.
We gather on Dasha’s couch. She offers everyone tea, which Sona accepts. As she goes to pour it from a freshly brewed pot—which probably explains why Vito was standing outside her door—Arsen takes a look around.
“You changed the place,” he comments. “I like what you’re doing.”
“Really? You’ve been in here before?”
“Sure, once or twice. Tigran’s taste in decoration is either hotel-lobby chic or like a death dungeon.”
Her eyes widen. “Dungeon?”
“Haven’t seen his room yet?” Arsen snorts and walks over to the bar cart. He pours himself a drink. “It’s all black and red, and I’m pretty sure he’s got handcuffs permanently installed on the four posts of his bed.”
“Why would he—” Dasha starts to say, but then her cheeks turn bright red, and she shuts her mouth when she realizes what it means.
I could kill Arsen right now. He’s messing with her just to be a dick. Dasha’s on edge enough; she doesn’t need him teasing her on top of her anxiety.
Although he’s not totally wrong.
“Here you go,” Dasha says, returning with Sona’s tea. Then she sits back down, her cheeks still burning red. Fuck, she’s so cute when she’s embarrassed. Maybe Arsen’s right, and I do need to introduce her to my own little domain.
One thing at a time.
“Tell me, Dasha, how did you get that scar?” Sona asks out of nowhere.
Dasha instantly stiffens. Arsen’s slurping down some whiskey and doesn’t really react, while I’m on high alert. It’s pretty obvious that Dasha’s scar is a sore subject for her, and she doesn’t like to talk about it. The first time I touched it, she looked like her head might explode. I’ve been meaning to ask myself, but apparently, I have more tact than my aunt does.
“It was a while back,” she says, touching her cheek, then quickly pulling her fingers away. “And it wasn’t a very interesting story.”
“Please, scars are always fascinating. I have a few of my own. You should see the one I gave Arsen.”
My brother comes over, chortling. “Stabbed me in the fucking shoulder. Want to see?” He starts shrugging off his jacket.
“Leave your clothes on around my wife,” I snarl.
“You stabbed him?” Dasha asks, looking between them in a panic.
Aunt Sona looks strangely nostalgic. “Our sides of the family were at war. He showed up at a fundraiser I was throwing, thinking he could negotiate.”
“Instead, she went ahead and just—” Arsen mimes jabbing a knife into his shoulder.
“I was aiming for his heart,” Aunt Sona says with a fond sigh. “Damn my bad eyesight. Old age is rough, kids.”
Dasha goes pale as she looks between them. If only she knew their actual relationship, then she might start screaming. The situation is even more fucked than she realizes.
“Dasha’s not going to talk about her scar,” I say firmly.
“That’s her choice,” Sona answers, giving me a hard look. “If she wants to talk—”
“She doesn’t.” I lean toward Aunt Sona. “And you’ll be polite to my wife, or I’m going to throw you out.”
“Don’t start this again,” Arsen says, sounding exhausted.
I hold Sona’s gaze. She stares right back.
And for the first time in a while, she seems to get it. I don’t know why, but she turns to Dasha and even gives her a little smile. “I apologize if I made you uncomfortable, dear. In our world, as I’m sure you’re aware, scars are commonplace. I sometimes forget that they’re born from trauma. Lord knows we all have enough of that to go around.”
I’m honestly a little stunned. Is Aunt Sona actually trying to be kind for once in her miserable life? I don’t think I’ve ever seen her show any empathy before.
It’s like watching a vicious, rabid dog playfully lick its owner.
“Thank you for understanding,” Dasha says lightly, and I can tell she’s struggling to control her emotions. “It was a long time ago, but sometimes it feels like it happened just yesterday.”
Aunt Sona pats her leg. “I understand. If you ever want to talk, feel free to look me up.”
The room goes quiet. I think Arsen’s shocked too. He gives me a look like, What the hell was that? Before Aunt Sona changes the subject and asks Dasha about her father’s business.
We make more small talk. I’m on edge the whole time, ready to defend Dasha at the slightest provocation. But Sona’s on her best behavior, and Arsen even manages to make her laugh once or twice, and by the time I usher them out of her room, Dasha seems pretty okay.
“I have another meeting,” Aunt Sona announces in the hall, checking her phone. “And about twelve missed calls I have to return.” Her face returns to that ugly stern glare. Life returns to normal. “Tigran, your wife is a delight, and you don’t deserve her.” She turns smartly and strides off.
“God, that old shrew,” I mutter when she’s finally gone. “When are you going to let me kill her?”
Arsen laughs and puts an arm across my shoulder. “Never. She’s too useful. Now, let’s talk about Dasha.”
“Please, I’ll pass.”
“You like her.”
“She’s my wife.” I shove him back.
“You defended her from Sona. You were ready to jump down my throat too. The whole time you were hovering over her like a lion watching over its pride. Come on, you like her.”
“I’m loyal to my wife,” I say through gritted teeth. But I don’t even know why I’m annoyed. What’s wrong with wanting my wife to be happy?
I don’t have to love her or something absurd like that.
But I can still want her to be comfortable.
“You look at her like a rose tilting its face up toward the sun.”
“God, you’re such a shit poet. Please stop.”
He punches my arm, grinning widely. “Never thought I’d see the day that the black-hearted Tigran melted under a woman’s warm embrace.”
“If you weren’t my brother and my patron, I’d murder you.”
“I know, isn’t it great?” He sighs and checks his phone. “You have to bring Dasha over to meet Lena and Roman soon. Or maybe I can bring them here. We’ll work it out.”
I walk him to the edge of the steps. “I bet Dasha would like that. Lena’s a good one. Your kid’s okay.”
“Please, you’re a simp for your nephew.” He shoots off a text and gives me another smirk. “I’m happy for you, though.”
“Why?” I grumble. “It’s just an arrangement.”
Arsen shakes his head as he walks off. His guards fall in at the front door and escort him outside.
I watch him go, not happy about that conversation. What’s wrong with defending my wife? Why’s he acting like it’s a big deal that I’m protective of her?
Dasha’s reclusive. She’s got issues she’s working through. It’s bad enough dragging her here and taking her away from everything she’s ever known.
Throw in a close call via car bomb, and she’s just barely holding on. Top it off with some baby-making, and she’s probably a wreck.
I’ve lost enough in my day. I’m not going to lose Dasha too.
Not like I lost Natalia.
No, that nearly broke me, and I will not go back to that.
Aunt Sona’s right about trauma. Everyone in this family’s got enough to drive them insane, and I’m no exception. Only I won’t let my past get in the way of my present.
I’ll be a good husband and a reliable protector to Dasha until our baby is born, and then I’ll follow through on my promise to her.
