Page 93 of The Marriage

He waved a hand high, saying, “Yeah, we got married—kept it small and private, sorry you didn’t get an invite. I have a feeling you don’t love weddings. Don’t really seem like the type, you know?”

“It doesn’t mean shit,” Dima yelled at his back.

“It does,” Roman murmured over his shoulder.

Of course, it meant something.

EIGHTEEN

Demyan Avdonin had never been the type to believe all was well, even when things worked to his favor. So even as the scene with Dima faded into the distance, seemingly over for a moment, the bratva boss’s mind was still making sure everything was fine elsewhere.

Which was why as his man driving put more miles on the freeway, Demyan sent a message to his wife. He’d promised to, after all.

Tonight was one of the most difficult of his life.

In many ways.

He was an old friend to loss, and a long time ago, would have welcomed death just to escape the monster of that trauma. Yet, nothing quite matched up to what it felt like to stand in a secluded, dilapidated farmhouse surrounded by men who would have killed him and his son without hesitation—if it came to that.

Demyan had needed to be so sure of his hand walking in there, and he’d only been a little comfortable, to be honest.

A bad ending was never out of the question. It could have happened at any moment.

He’d done that enough in his past—rise, when nothing else was certain. Anything could have changed everything at the drop of a hat.

This time it was different because his son was there. All too often, it felt like Roman was the one running his own show. A lifetime away from his father’s reach. Out of Demyan’s control.

Claire would never have forgiven him had their only son not walked away from this night. She would have blamed him for encouraging their son to go to this meeting, and he would have let her do it.

Before they left, she was sent to a safe house for the duration of the meeting. Just because he and Roman had made choices in life that placed them in dangerous situations didn’t mean his wife couldn’t be safe while they did business.

So, he told her as much.

Claire would understand.

There was a lot more he wanted to tell her, but never would. He’d learned a long time ago she didn’t enjoy watching her son step into the shoes and shadows of men who came before him.

Nonetheless, Roman had impressed him tonight. There was a lot on the line for his son, and Demyan supposed he was finally starting to show just how far he’d go for it.

Like always, Roman did things on his own time and schedule. Sometimes, he’d fit in what others around him needed, but at the end of the day, he still took what he wanted. Did what he had to do.

Like all leaders.

There was a reason they got to the top.

Claire’s reply to Demyan’s text, her confirmation she had arrived home before him, didn’t come until he was minutes away from their gated community. By then, he’d gotten another text.

From security at the main gates.

Demyan paid a lot of money for the association of their community to look the other way and disregard his guests, along with not keeping a proper log to trace. He left nothing to chance.

“Drive faster,” he demanded of Pavel in the front seat when he read the text from the guard.

A Mr.Yazov has been granted access to the community as your guest.

Demyan filled Pavel in on their new situation as he shot his message a message to Claire right after—Get a gun.

He only knew one Mr. Yazov.