Ah, of course he was in the corner. The man brooded well. He had it down to an art form. Arms crossed, shoulders straight back, amused smirk firmly in place while pieces of dark hair fell across his forehead. If Sergio was dark, Nicolai was darker, and that was saying a lot. I wouldn't exactly trust him with my first born… or a goldfish for that matter.
"Two Russians in my home, God save us all." Phoenix smirked as he made his way over to us from the other side of the room. He held out his hand. "Nicolai, always a pleasure."
Nicolai shook his hand and nodded. "Business is good."
I knew that question. It was a typical mafia question. "Business is good" was always said as a statement, never a question, because if it wasn't, it typically meant you were the reason it wasn't going good. This was usually followed by a gunshot or getting messed up.
Phoenix's face didn't give way to any emotion. He simply shrugged and said, "As always."
"Can we trust him?"
Nicolai asked the question I hadn't wanted to even acknowledge needed answering. I wanted to inch closer but knew it would give me away. Instead, I perked my ears and pretended to be interested in the commotion around me.
Phoenix glanced at me out of the corner of his eye before answering. "Yes. And if something goes wrong. I'll simply pull the trigger, so you won't have to get on a plane."
"Generous of you." Nicolai laughed and patted Phoenix on the shoulder. "I'll be leaving soon after this, but I was wondering about that favor?"
Both men shared a look with one another before turning to me. That was my cue.
"Loud and clear boys." I pointed behind me. "I'll just go make myself scarce."
I walked away from them but not before I heard the word sister. Yeah, they were talking about my family. I only hoped that meant that Phoenix was going to work hard to keep me safe from them.
The last thing I needed was to be captured and used as collateral against the Abandonatos. Then again, Sergio hated me so much I highly doubted he would actually go to war just to bring me back. He'd probably be relieved he didn't have to kill me himself.
Or watch me die.
Death.
Death.
Death.
Wow, I needed to stop thinking so much about it at my wedding. I was supposed to be happy. I deserved happy. I'd never been one of those people who sat around depressed, wondering why the world wasn't doing me any favors. We had free will; therefore, I imagined I had the power to change anything about my circumstances. All it took was a step, one choice, and the universe shifted. It was a simple equation of cause and effect. Nothing changed in your world if you didn't will it to happen.
I wanted happy.
And I was going to get happy.
Even if it meant my ending was going to be a bit more tragic and dramatic than most. Then again, I'd come from a crime family, so who was to say I wasn't going to die young anyway? Odds weren't exactly in the favor of a Petrov living to fifty, just saying.
The sound of a dish crashing onto the floor had me nearly colliding with the wall. A hand gripped my shoulder and steadied me on my feet.
"You drunk already?" Sergio teased, or at least I thought he was teasing me; his mouth wasn't exactly forming a scowl, and I could see a bit of light in his eyes. Then again, I could be hallucinating the whole thing, considering the man had no soul and ate small children for breakfast.
"No." I jerked away. "Sorry, just… woolgathering."
"Wool what?" His blue eyes narrowed. "Is that English."
"It sure as hell isn't Russian," I said in a sweet voice.
"I may regret this later…" He crossed his arms. "…but I'll bite. What's woolgathering?"
"Reading, Italy. You should try it." I tapped my head with my finger and winked.
"I read."
"Romance." I said it slowly. Heck, I would have spelled it too, but by the look on his face, I imagined it wouldn't earn me any points toward wife of the year.
"Ha!" This time he did crack a smile. "Ridiculous fiction at its finest. Romance, the kind I'm sure you're reading, doesn't exist in the real world. They even have to make up words."
"Real word, dude." Chase came up behind him. "Mil read it in some Dukes of Horny London story a few weeks back."
"Now that's a fake title," I pointed out. "Though I can see why it would sell really well."
"Woolgathering." Chase cleared his throat. "To be lost in one's thoughts."
"Don't say one's." Sergio shook his head. "Ever."
"Nice British accent." I held up my hand for a high five.
Chase winked and slapped it. "I have my uses."
Sergio smirked. "Yeah, you can cook better than your wife, read historical romance, and, oh wait, I'm sorry. Do you even remember where you left your balls? Or did you even have them in the first place."
"He's just nervous about the wedding night," Chase said to me, ignoring Sergio completely. He leaned in and whispered, "Virgins always are."
"I'm not a virgin!" Sergio shouted, his face red with what I hoped was rage rather than embarrassment at Chase telling the truth. Then again, Sergio hadn't really answered when I'd teased him about it the night before.
All activity in the kitchen stopped.
And silence.
Chase bit down on his lip, smiling so hard I was afraid he was going to crack his face or something.