Page 72 of Lord of Justice

"It is now deconsecrated and it is an even more beautiful restaurant," Andrey murmurs. "I think you're going to love the Karelian trout rissole; they add an apple confit that-"

"Did we miss anything?" Nikandr steps up, guiding a slightly disheveled Caroline, who's trying to smooth her hair. I see why they drove separately.

I press my lips together, trying to hold back a smile. "Hey girl, let's visit the ladies' room."

"That's a good idea," Caroline sighs.

Andrey…

Dinner is a multi-course affair, with countless toasts and the careful observation of an endlessstream of the courtesies and rituals these oligarchs hold so dear. Moscow is its own separate kingdom where these families have ruled for generations.

Iris is having a good time, talking with some of the daughters who surrounded her, seemingly fascinated by her and Caroline. This meal feels endless. I want to take my wife home and defile her.

Ivan Bukharov leans closer, his face flushed with expensive vodka and good cheer. "Your wife, she's lovely. This is a fine match, though I am surprised to find you married."

"Traditionally, I'm not hasty." I acknowledge.

Ivan snorts into his drink.

"All right, I am never hasty. With Iris, I knew it was inevitable. She is quite extraordinary."

There's not many love matches in the Moscow Six, but Ivan has one of them. Looking down the table at his wife Anastasia, he smiles, his sharp eyes softening. "This, I understand."

Chapter Thirty-Four

In which nothing kills the mood faster than a creature of the night waiting for you in the back seat of your car.

Iris…

Violet once told me that Roman was completely different when they traveled to Russia. His speech became more formal, he carried himself differently. The lighthearted husband she knew morphed into someone else.

This was backed up immediately by all the sisters-in-law at lunch. The Morozov men went back to their essential Russian roots in some way. I'd asked Violet if it was a little scary that he had changed so quickly, and she laughed.

"Oh no, it was hot as hell." The other girls snickered. "Masterful, authoritative Roman? I could not get enough of him." I remember cringing and begging her not to tell me anything else.

I understand it now. Andrey has always had a lordly air about him. Seeing him here, though, with some of the older Bratva families, makes me proud. I see how they hang on to his words. What he says is important. The power and authority he carries in this group of Bratva billionaires, theseoligarchs, is surreal.

He catches me watching him, and gives me a long, speculative glance that lights me on fire almost instantly. I'm trying to subtly rub my thighs together without looking like a panting freak. Thank the lord, the dinner is over soon and we all rise, kissing cheeks, shaking hands.

Oksana Vasiliev, who’s been the sweetest of the daughters, invites me and Caroline to an event she's having at their horse stables. I'm not sure if she means a ride, or a hunt, or eating sandwiches while looking at horses, but I'm down with anything besides shooting an animal. Do they use handguns here? Arrows? Poison? I was never in the rich girl horse crowd at home.

Andrey's hand is cool against my lower back, and he nods politely. "If you'll excuse me, ladies, I must take my wife home."

They all smile, some much less warmly than others, I note with some amusement. I can't blame them, I'd heard from Tania that there was some hope that Andrey, at least, would marry anice Russian girl with excellent breeding. Much like the horses.

I quickly say goodbye to Caroline before my giant husband has me out the door and away from the group in seconds, our security forming a perimeter around us. "Did you get everything you needed?" I ask. He's walking faster, his arm looped around my waist and almost lifting me off my feet.

"Other issues came up that needed to be prioritized," he says.

"Really?" I ask. "Like what?"

Leaning down, he kisses my cheekbone. "Specifically, my cock. I need to be inside you. Now. Ripping up that tight cunt of yours, feeling you squeeze against me. Do you want my pearls pushing inside you, my filthy girl?"

Verdict: so fucking turned on.

My knees weaken. "That'ssodirty," I sigh appreciatively, and he laughs. Sweeping me up in his arms, he strides towards the car. An amused Trofim pretends not to hear our discussion as he opens the back door.

This fun and blurry mood ends like a record scratch as we realize we're not alone in the back seat. I'm startled into a scream before I slap my hand over my mouth. A shadow moves in the farcorner, and even Trofim looks shocked. "Boss. I didn't see him here. I didn't-"