Champagne Venom (Orlov Bratva, #1)(40)

Hot, angry tears burn my eyes. My hands, clasped in my lap now, tremble miserably.

“Do you understand?”

“Yes,” I hiss between my teeth. “I understand.”





29

MISHA

Neither of us says a word for the rest of the meal. Paige barely touches her food. I watch her push the disgusting pile of yard clippings around her plate until I can’t take it anymore. Then I drive her home.

She makes for our bedroom immediately. Since I’ve maxed out my asshole quota for the night, I choose to go to my office instead.

The moment the door shuts, I let my frustration unfurl. “Fuck!” I punch the wall hard. The drywall cracks and dents beneath my knuckles.

Out of the corner of my eye, a head pops up from the sofa. “Heyo, Big Meesh,” Konstantin quips.

“Bad night?”

“Goddammit,” I growl. “Shouldn’t you be balls deep in some unfortunate young woman by this point in the evening?”

He smiles heartily. “If I were balls deep inside her, she would no longer be unfortunate, would she?”

“Not what Katerina Volkov said, if I recall correctly.”

Konstantin’s face drops like a sunk stone. “First of all, I was fourteen. Second of all, Katerina was a stuck-up bitch. Third of all, you’re not going to distract me from your bad mood. Trouble with the wifey?”

The smile is back on his face. One eyebrow is arched mischievously.

“She’s not my wife yet.”

“Ooh. So that’s confirmation? It is indeed Paige causing you woe?”

“I didn’t say that,” I mutter. I drop into the armchair across from him, still nursing my bruised knuckles.

“You didn’t have to. You stink of relationship trouble.” He smiles and shakes his head from side to side like a proud parent. “I never thought I’d see the day. You’ve always been so clinical when it comes to women. It’s good to see you feel something.”

“There’s no relationship trouble,” I grumble. “It’s not about emotions. It’s just an adjustment issue.

Paige needs to understand her role in this house and in my life.”

“Well, there’s your problem right there, buckaroo. Nothing turns a woman off more than hearing about all the rules you expect her to live by.”

“Turning her on is not high on my to-do list,” I say. I flex my hand until the knuckles pop and the pain eases. “Now, why are you here?”

He sits up and pulls something out of his pants pocket. “I wanted to hand it over to you personally.”

I stare at the little velvet blue box he’s offering me. It’s small, but I can feel its weight from here. Like it has a gravity all its own.

I’m not quite sure why I feel the need to give Paige the family ring. I just know that the image of it was burning behind my closed eyelids every time I laid down to sleep.

I snatch the box from him and tuck it into my pocket without opening it. I’ve seen the ring in all its glittery perfection before. I don’t need to see it now. I especially don’t need to imagine it on one particularly delicate finger.

“Bro, are you okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Well, for starters, you’re planning on getting married without telling a single member of your family.”

“I told you,” I argue. “There’s one.”

“I’m your right hand man. I don’t count.”

I wave the thought away. “I don’t want the pomp and circumstance. I don’t want the fucking noise.”

“And your solution is to get married and then introduce her to the family? That is going to be nothing but noise, broseph. They’ll be pissed.”

“It’s simpler that way.”

“It’s also cruel. Aunt Nessa—”

“My mother will understand,” I say, cutting him off. “And if I need a lecture, Konstantin, I’ll go to my sister.”

“Ouch,” he complains. “Low blow.”

“Like I said, having a fancy wedding implies this marriage is more than it is. It is a business proposition, nothing more. Paige is a straightforward way for me to continue my legacy without having to deal with the messiness of—”

“Love and romance? Vulnerability? Being an actual human fuckin’ being for once in your entire robotic life?”

“Something like that,” I mutter.

Konstantin gives me an amused smile, but there is worry speckled throughout. “Maksim had a wedding, lest you forget.”

“Maksim was—” I stop short.

Maksim was a better man. He was better in every way. And now, he’s dead.

“Maksim was different,” I finish, though I know that Konstantin has already made note of my stumble.

“Can I trust you to keep your mouth shut and make the preparations? Or do I need to handle it myself?”

He raises his eyebrows. I stare him down until he finally yields with a sigh.

“Alright,” he says at last. “But when your momma brings the roof down, I’m not sticking around to bail your ass out.”





30

PAIGE

“Are you okay, Mrs. Orlov?” Rada asks.