Til Death Do Us Part (Kornilov Bratva Duet #2) - Nicole Fox Page 0,59
craziest part?” Molly whispers.
No, I think. I don’t.
Molly turns around and tears are tracking down her cheeks now. She is still in the wedding dress she wore during our photo shoot and mascara is slipping down her face.
“The craziest part is that I’m not sure I want to leave.”
A sob slips between her lips, and I pull her against my chest. She leans into me, not knowing how much I need this. How much her presence is comforting to me, even if it is wrecking me at the same time.
17
Molly
Viktor holds me for a while—how long, I’m not entirely sure—and when he pulls away, his eyes are far away from me.
“I need to—”
“Stay,” I say, cutting off whatever he was about to say. “Please. Don’t go. Please stay.”
Viktor’s face softens, and he tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “You don’t need to be afraid. The house is well-guarded.”
“I don’t feel safe without you.” It’s true. Not only will I not feel safe, but I’ll never be able to relax, wondering where he is and what he is doing. Worried he will go after Fedor for revenge. “Please stay.”
After a few seconds of thought, he nods. “Of course. I’ll stay.”
Viktor undoes his tie and hangs up his suit, and I slip out of my dress and into a pair of jeans and a sweater. Then, we start decorating the house with some of the things Viktor brought from his place. Enough has happened in the last twenty-four hours that I almost forgot about Niamh and Seamus coming over. And honestly, compared to nearly dying, Seamus doubting the truth of our marriage seems like nothing. Certainly not something to risk our lives over.
Still, I’m grateful for the distraction of decorating. I set up some of Viktor’s photos in the living room and the office, arranging one from on the desk where he brought me to a soul-crushing orgasm only a few days ago. I notice there are no pictures of Fedor in the bunch, and I assume that is on purpose. Probably for my sake, but maybe also for his.
I want to ask how Viktor is taking the news that Fedor is the reason his parents are dead, but I don’t want to pry. Besides, I think we both need a distraction from reality right now.
We’ve just finished with the decorations he brought when the pictures from the photo shoot are delivered in a manila envelope. We planned to print them ourselves, but we were in no state to leave the apartment, so Viktor made a phone call and someone arranged it. It sure is nice being powerful sometimes. I’m surprised the photographer pulled himself together enough to edit them. They aren’t perfect, but as long as no one studies them intensely, they won’t notice the fake scenes in the background or the slightly inconsistent lighting. For being done on such short notice, they look pretty good.
“What about the toothpaste cap?” Viktor asks from the downstairs bathroom.
“What about it?” I ask, putting down the last frame on a bookshelf and moving to stand in the bathroom.
“Well,” he says, pointing to the toothpaste tube I dropped on the back of the sink this morning. “I’ve noticed you are a barbarian and leave the cap off the toothpaste, but I am civilized and put it back on once I’m done.”
A shocked gasp rushes out of me, nearly a laugh. “Excuse me? I’m a barbarian?”
“Unfortunately,” he says, pressing his lips into a flat line. “So, should I leave it off to show that we actually live here and are slobs, or should I put the cap on and hide it in the drawer to impress them?”
Despite everything, I have to fight back a laugh. “If those are my only two options, then leave it off.”
“Why?” he asks, eyes narrowed.
I lay a hand on his chest and press up onto my tiptoes to give him a soft kiss. “Because I want them to know I always get my way.”
I spin out of the bathroom and move up the stairs before Viktor can argue, but I feel him hot on my heels. Just before I get to the bedroom, he wraps an arm around my waist and spins me around, pinning me to the wall.
“Fine, we can put the cap on,” I say, holding my hands up in surrender and trying not to dissolve into giggles.
Viktor shakes his head and bends low, his lips less than an inch from mine. “No, we’ll leave it off.”