Til Death Do Us Part (Kornilov Bratva Duet #2) - Nicole Fox Page 0,22

it all without telling anyone. I’m sorry.”

I’m still frustrated, but it feels wrong to yell at him about this.

“Just get your ass to the meeting,” I command. “That will show me your attentions aren’t divided.”

Petr agrees with my plan to drop a few of our fronts to consolidate, and even though it was my plan, I’m disappointed.

I built those businesses myself. I put them in place and kept them running. They made us money and operated as stash houses for our less legal dealings. Even though I didn’t go around bragging about them, I was proud of what I’d built. And now, because of my own brother, I have to give some of them up to protect what I have left.

It is necessary, but the meeting leaves me feeling restless. I have too much energy to just go home. I need to go out.

Before Molly, that would mean stopping off at the club, tossing back a few drinks, and then dragging one of the willing club girls back to my bed. I’d fuck her until exhaustion and then kick her out to find her own way home.

Now, I just want Molly.

I’ve been trying to keep my distance from her. Not only to give her time to adjust to this new element in our relationship, but also because I need to keep my sights focused on Fedor as much as possible. I need to stay cold so I can react and make decisions as necessary, and being with Molly gets me anything but cold.

I’m calling her before I even realize what I’m doing. She sounds hesitant when she answers.

“Hello?”

“Do you want to go out with me?” Again, I’m operating on autopilot. The question blurts out of me before I can find a more eloquent way to phrase it. “Like, to lunch?”

The silence stretches out so long I’m sure she has hung up, but finally, Molly clears her throat. “Hannah would have to watch Theo.”

That isn’t a refusal. She’s willing.

“I’ll call the nanny to come back over, too.” I hope she can’t see my offer for what it is—distrust of her friend. “Just in case,” I add.

To my surprise and delight, Molly doesn’t argue or refuse. She tells me to pick her up in twenty minutes.

She meets me outside wearing a devastating pair of jeans and a low-cut gray sweater, and I whisk her towards my favorite lunch spot—a quiet Italian joint with flickering candles on the tables and soft music in the background. When I’m halfway there, however, I remember the night after the ceremony. The way Molly felt uncomfortable in the fancy environment of etiquette and gowns. The Italian place isn’t fancy, but it isn’t what she is used to.

On nothing more than a feeling, I turn away from where I was headed and casually scour the roads as we drive, searching for a suitable alternative. When I see a greasy spoon I’ve been to a few different times, I pull over and help her out of the car.

The booths are lined in red vinyl, neon lights wrap around the ceiling, and pictures of Elvis and Marilyn Monroe cover the walls. It is Americana in all of its glory. The menu is, too—nothing but hamburgers, French fries, and milkshakes. Given Molly’s recent penchant for onion rings, I know she’ll approve. The smile on her face as we are seated confirms it.

“I can’t believe a lunch with Viktor Kornilov involves paper cups of ketchup,” she says, dunking a French fry in the sauce.

“What did you imagine?”

“Silver serving trays and five-hundred-dollar bottles of wine.”

“Only five hundred?” I ask, brows pinched together in mock surprise. “You insult me.”

She laughs, and the sound of it rings in my chest, opening my lungs for what feels like my first breath of fresh air in weeks. This is what I want my marriage to Molly to look like. My entire life has been heavy. Death and drugs and crime. It is the life I’ve known and, there is no sense denying it, loved. But it feels good to balance that with Molly’s lightness. Her laugh and her ease. I worry every day that my darkness will drag her down with me, but I pray that isn’t true. I hope, once everything with Fedor is settled, she’ll pull me a little closer to the light.

“This is amazing, though. Really.” There is a soft emphasis in her voice, and she purses her pink lips together until I can’t think about anything other than leaning across the table and