“Is it too soon to address the irony in this situation?” Luka snickered.
I gnashed my teeth, even though he couldn’t see it. “Yes.”
“And here I thought I’d be the first one down the aisle,” Cris threw out, obviously muffling his laughter.
That sent everyone else into coughing fits in attempts to disguise their own amusement.
I felt the tiniest urge to grin. A small part of my usual self peeked out to give a quick salute before crawling back into his newly-formed pit of marital despair.
“What can I say,” I quipped to Cris, “you know I’ve always been competitive. If you’re not first, you’re last.”
“You asshole, we didn’t even get to throw you a bachelor party.” This from Luka.
“Wait, what the hell is Mom going to say?” Ace asked.
Everyone simultaneously groaned, even Dad. “I’m not telling her,” he said adamantly.
I sighed again, squeezing my eyes shut in dread. “I’ll tell her when I get back.”
“Which should be when?” Rome asked.
I glanced down at my watch, realizing that Lexi’s hour-long time limit to gather her belongings was up. “Two days. We’re leaving Moscow this afternoon, and I’ve got one more stop to make on the way to Brooklyn. I’ll let you know before we take off from there.”
“Watch your back, son,” Dad said in a somber voice. “I don’t like the state of things over there. Instability is always dangerous.”
“I always do.”
I tipped my head back and downed the last of the toxic abomination.
“Oh, before you go,” Luka interjected before I said my goodbyes. “I forgot something.”
“What?”
“A toast to the bride and groom! May the two of you always find happ—”
I hung up on the bastard.
I had enough shit to deal with.
My asshole brothers could get their shots in later, when I didn’t have to go collect my sassy wife and get on a plane so I could put this balls-cold, whiskey-less, desolate wasteland of a country in my rearview mirror.
Since my driver had already packed my bags into the waiting town car, I had nothing to carry as I left the guest suite except for my phone.
The Kozlov compound just outside of Moscow was more of a fortress than a home. The mansion itself was like a palace with its gilded décor and sky-high buttresses. Butlers—yes, there was more than one—housekeepers, cooks, and guards milled about the house, silently going about their respective jobs.
To say that my new wife had grown up in the lap of luxury was an understatement.
I had been standing in the foyer for only about thirty seconds when I heard a series of feminine grunts, followed by hissed Russian coming from the main stairwell.
The scene when I looked up was nothing short of comical.
Lexi was doing her damndest to muscle three giant suitcases down the stairs all by her skinny little self. With every step, she tottered precariously under their massive weight, knocking the hulking objects against her legs and the stair railing. She’d wriggle two suitcases down a few stairs, then reach back up for the third and repeat the process.
Watching her struggles shed light on one glowing aspect of Lexi’s personality.
She wasn’t the type to ask for help.
I couldn’t say I liked much of what I’d seen from the woman so far, but I at least respected that. After all, you could respect someone without actually liking them. There were about a dozen people in the house she could have thrown those suitcases at and strutted off without another word. So, she wasn’t a totally useless, spoiled, whiny, brat.
But why for the love of God did she have to look kind of…cute?
She still wore the same outfit she’d had on for the ceremony—which was admittedly sexy as hell. It showed off her svelte form, her long, lithe legs, slim waist, and high, tight ass. Her breasts were no bigger than teacups, which was fine with me because she had those legs to make up for it.
Legs for days.
Slender enough to contort into any position a man could want. Long enough that he would always have something to grab onto, guide himself into her by. The kind that were made for wrapping around a man’s waist and squeezing him so good as he pounded into her. I had to confess that ever since I’d gotten my first glimpse of the woman, I’d been imagining myself as the man who had those legs wrapped around him like vines.
And don’t even get me fucking started on that cherry red lipstick. A woman could get pretty creative with the