Til Death Do Us Part (Kornilov Bratva Duet #2) - Nicole Fox Page 0,68
say, wrapping my arm around Viktor’s elbow and pulling him to his feet. “Viktor gets what we like to call ‘hangry.’ If he goes too long without food, he is liable to take down the first warm-blooded thing he sees for sustenance. I have to keep him fed or else things get dangerous.”
As we move the party to the dining room, Niamh stops to admire the pictures Viktor and I just hung up earlier in the afternoon.
“You two look so happy,” she says, tilting her head to the side and smiling. “I wish we could have been there.”
Given what happened only a few minutes after the picture was snapped, she really wouldn’t have wanted to be there, but she doesn’t know they were only taken this afternoon. She doesn’t realize they are all manufactured memories.
“They are such a beautiful couple, aren’t they?” Niamh asks, prompting Seamus.
Viktor nudges my arm, grinning down at me, proud of our success. I’m proud, too. I swell slightly at the compliment, thrilled that Viktor and I are viewed as a real couple. Though, there is another part of me that is twisted with worry and shame.
I hope to consider Niamh a true friend, and I’m lying to her. And not about something small like my favorite food or whether I like her haircut. I’m lying to her about being married when I’m really not. I’m pretending to live a life that is entirely different from the one I actually live. And I have to wonder if she would still like me as much if she knew the truth.
“They are definitely a beautiful couple,” Seamus agrees. “But do you know what would be even more beautiful? Dinner.”
Niamh groans. “You’re incorrigible.”
Viktor laughs and leads us all to the dining room where the cook has laid out four plates around a crispy and golden roasted chicken. In small trays around the chicken are various vegetables and side dishes.
Niamh tells the story of a time when Seamus ate something unidentified at a business lunch and ended up with swollen lips and a rash because he was allergic to shellfish. Then, Seamus counters with the time Niamh tried out temporary lip injections and looked like a scary movie mask for two weeks.
The two of them are easy with one another, bantering back and forth without any hesitation, and I wonder if Viktor and I will ever have that. I certainly hope so.
Because this is nice. Sitting around a table with friends and talking, it feels normal. This is the kind of life I’ve always imagined for myself. Or, rather, the life I was too afraid to imagine for myself. Having friends like these and regular dinners like this seemed too good to be true, and I didn’t want to be disappointed. Now, it could be a reality.
The trouble is, the life of crime comes right along with it. The two can’t be separated, and I have to decide whether one is worth the other.
“We can’t thank you enough for having us over,” Niamh says at the end of the evening, holding both of my hands in her own. “I want to see you both again soon, but I better be seeing you even sooner, Molly. You have me far too excited about my new library.”
“She is telling the truth,” Seamus says. “She won’t stop talking about it.”
“Molly has amazing ideas,” Niamh says, smiling up at Viktor. “I may force Seamus into a full remodel of the house if I love the library enough.”
Seamus grips his heart like it hurts, but Niamh just rolls her eyes and then pulls me in for a hug. “Take care of yourself, dear.”
The men shake hands, and we wave to them from the doorway until they are in the elevator and gone. Then, we slip back inside.
Dinner will be cleaned up by the staff, and I’m eager to get out of my tight dress, so I head upstairs, wash my face, and slip into a loose nightgown. When I get back downstairs, Viktor is still sitting in the same spot on the couch he was when I left, staring straight ahead at the fireplace.
“What are you thinking about?”
He starts at the sound of my voice and then smiles, trying to play it off. “Nothing.”
I sit down next to him, my legs curled underneath me. “Is that true? Or do you just not want to tell me?”
Viktor grabs my hand and lays my fingers across his palm. He strokes my knuckles gently with his thumb, looking