Page 12 of Lord of Justice

Andrey tilts his head, watching me until I run out of steam, and adjectives. "Of course, it's a set up," he says. "Planted evidence, unreliable testimony. I'm not even sure how they got that addict to make a coherent witness statement. When I checked on him, he was sticking his tongue in a crack in the wall."

"Yeah," I nod. "It sounds like the hallucinogens won out in the battle of the drugs." He raises a perfectly shaped brow. "Have you ever seen one of those?" I'm babbling now but my head is swimming. "When you can tell someone's popped three or four different illicit substances and it's sort of a race to the top?"

"Of course," he says noncommittally, still staring at me. It's definitely not sexual, not appreciativeeven. I've been told I'm gorgeous my entire life, but it's hardly reliable when it's from a guy trying to get in your pants. Andrey is looking at me more… appraisingly. Like he's trying to determine value. Does he sell girls in his spare time?

"The charges - as they stand - could put you away for over twenty years." He straightens the papers again. "The D.A. would consider it quite a coup to get anyone in the Morozov family convicted on these charges, especially someone this high up in the family."

"Are you saying I'm being targeted to make the D.A. look good?" I ask incredulously. "For hell's sake, I'm asister-in-law.Don't they want someone more bad ass, like… a lieutenant or one of yourBrigadiers?"

"Any conviction is good when it comes to the Morozov Bratva," he says indifferently.

That indifference shit is really starting to get to me. I realize now that he's trying to scare the hell out of me and it's certainly working. But he doesn't have to sound like he couldn't care less whether I lived or died. It's not inspiring confidence.

"Okay…" I say, rubbing an itchy spot on my jaw against my shoulder. I get all sweaty and itchy when I'm nervous. "What do we do?"

"That is the question, isn't it?" Andrey's goddamnfinger starts tapping again. After a minute, I slide my hand out onto the table and start tapping too. It's almost syncopated. Two firm taps of his finger, strong, manly taps.

Tap.

Tap.

Three staccato ones of mine.

Tap!

Tap!

Tap!

This goes on for a while.

"Of course, the family's legal resources can make this all disappear," he says. "But you see, it will require favors from several people higher up in the court who might be unwilling to let go of this coup. Favors that I could be using for something far more valuable."

"Are you sure you're the defense attorney here?" I ask. "Because from where I'm sitting - and handcuffed - you're looking a lot more like the D.A. ready to put me away."

"I simply want you to understand the gravity of this situation."

I tap my finger again, ten times, very hard. It kind of hurts my finger so I stop. "What do you wantfrom me, Andrey?" It comes out blunt and kind of awkward. I didn't mean it that way- did that sound sexual? Does he think I'm propositioning him or offering sexual favors?

"For a favor of this magnitude, something significant will be required in return," he says. His dark eyes, as black as Satan's jammies, narrow as he leans back, crossing his legs. "You're going to marry me."

Chapter Six

In which you have got to be fucking kidding me.

Andrey…

Iris's pouty mouth is open and she's staring at me as if she's stepped sideways into some other reality. I can see her lips moving like she's trying to reform my words into a sentence that makes more sense to her.I sit perfectly still, fingers laced as I watch her. She doesn't get uneasy the way most people do. Perhaps she's too stunned.

"You have got to be fucking kidding me." The words come out flat, not high, or agitated. Just a certainty that she knows that I am, no doubt, toying with her and that we'll get this legal nonsense all wrapped up and taken care of.

"Oh, I'm quite serious. I require a wife. You're intelligent, halfway through college at a prestigious institution, and already educated in the ways of the Bratva."

"You know there has to be at least three or four hundred girls within a two-block radius who would leap at the chance to be Mrs. EmotionlessRobot," Iris snaps. "And you'reold.You're like what, forty?"

I barely suppress a smile. "I'm thirty-two."

"Yeah, I'm not into the big daddy energy," she says.