by K. Marie
Nine
G A R L A N D
“Dad and Lilly are on their way back with Autumn, they should be here any minute,” Camry said, walking into the closet wearing a towel.
I glanced at my watch, then aimed a pointed look at the towel. We were due to leave in less than thirty minutes, and my wife was habitually terrible with time management.
“Don’t give me that look! I’ll be ready in twenty minutes; I’m going right now to squeeze my ass back into that white dress you liked so much,” she said saucily.
Ah…that dress. Never has a simple white dress had such a profound effect on my dick. More accurately, my wife’s body in that white dress. Perhaps I was just sex-starved, but when I walked out of my office earlier and saw Camry, every ounce of testosterone in my body responded. My wife looked like a sexy-fucking-goddess. Maybe she was right; perhaps in her constant pregnant state, I’d forgotten just how sexy Camry is.
“Your ass in that dress is every man’s fantasy, I hope to avoid hurting someone tonight,” I told her with a leer.
“Wow, you’ve really got a thing for that dress, huh? You just went total Caveman on me,” she laughed, looking ridiculously pleased.
“It’s this Caveman’s right as your husband, to smash in the face of any man whose gaze lingers just a little too long,” I responded, halfway joking. I’ve never been the jealous type, that’s the mark of a weak man with no balls. However, I am territorial over what’s mine.
“Would it be safer if I wore something different, perhaps something less fist-provoking?” Camry asked, cocking her head with a look of interest.
Her eyes shone with merriment; she was enjoying my alpha-pissing display. As well she should, because this would be the first time in my life I’ve ever put on this particular performance.
“You can wear whatever you want when you want, sweetheart. You are gorgeous no matter what you wear, that can’t be hidden.”
“That’s so fucking sweet of you, husband; you do wonders for a girl’s ego.”
“You actually kiss our kids with that potty-mouth?”
Camry walked over to stand in front of me. “Kissing our kids isn’t the only thing I do with my potty-mouth,” she purred like a sex kitten.
I groaned inwardly, remembering last night in the shower. The last thing I needed was another hard-on.
“Seriously, Garland, you need never worry about other men ogling your wife. Don’t you realize other men tend to fade into the background in your presence?” she asked, eyes sincere.
I groaned aloud this time. Who’s doing wonders for whose ego now?
“Go get dressed, Camry,” I told her, forcing myself away from her. “Twenty minutes,” I reminded.
We were attending an art exhibit for new up-and-coming artists tonight. I would bail if I could, but as a regular sponsor, my attendance was expected.
“Oh, I forgot to tell you!” Camry announced, turning back into the room after she’d made it to the doorway. “I saw that Vlad-guy last night—at the sushi restaurant, it completely slipped my mind.”
“Yes, I know, Joe informed me,” I told her, putting my poker-face in place.
“Did he tell you the man paid our almost five-hundred-dollar tab?” she asked, a perplexed look in her eyes.
Unfortunately, he did.
“It made me feel uncomfortable as hell; I didn’t get the impression the two of you were all that friendly.”
“Did he say or do anything to make you feel uncomfortable?” I inquired, trying to tamp down my annoyance with Vlad.
“No, not really, it was just more so a feeling—you know, an awkward, uncomfortable moment. It’s not like I know the man, I didn’t understand why he was so generous,” she explained.
That was Vlad’s way of fucking with me.
“Don’t worry too much over it.”
“I wasn’t worried, Dracula just creeps me out a little, that’s all,” she said with a shrug, laughing as she turned to walk away.
Dracula? She’d have to explain that some other time, but not right now. Because all I wanted to do right now was murder Vlad.
The asshole had finally crawled back out of whatever putrid dark hole he’d been hiding in. Even before Joe texted me last night, I knew he’d resurfaced. Marcel had already given me that information. The only question is, was his appearance at the same restaurant as my wife coincidental or intentional? I wanted to believe coincidental; there’s no way Vlad could have known Camry would be there.
I tasked Marcel with securing Vlad’s location since he’d been in contact with him. Vlad had come calling for a loan, of course. I would have my men sitting on top of the idiot as soon as he was located. I had reached the end of the road with him.
C A M R Y
The downtown Miami Art Center was a beautiful venue that bustled with lots of people and frenetic energy.
Though I was no good at it, I liked art just fine; my eyes were always automatically drawn to beautiful things. However, when it came to abstract art, I’ve never been one of those people to look at a painted canvas with an objective eye—I’d always judged it as merely bizarre. So, I stood here now, utterly uninterested in the young artist’s narrative on the inspiration behind his work.
We were in one of the many exhibit rooms that were set-up on the second floor of the large, brightly-lit building, making the rounds. Thankfully, tonight’s event didn’t feature only new starving artists, but also arts of the performing variety as well. I was looking forward to the upcoming performance in the Amphitheater; hopefully, it would prove entertaining.
“Does the subject of expressive abstraction bore you?” Garland asked next to my ear, having caught my attention wandering.
“It bores me to tears. Why don’t we sneak behind that large canvas over there and make-out until the torture is over?” I whispered back.
He grinned, eyes dancing with laughter as he tightened his grip where his hand rested at my waist. “Two minutes, then we can sneak out and end the long-suffering,” he told me.
Though Garland was no great lover of art, nor a collector, his patronage was in honor of his mother. Florencia Vidov had been an art student when his parents first met. However, after they married and she gave birth to Garland, she gave up on her dream for many years. She’d started back drawing and painting at some point—and even though she didn’t do it professionally, my mother-in-law was a very talented artist. I had seen some of her work, sketches and paintings she’d given to her son. The woman’s work should be in a gallery.
Garland’s evident love for his mother warmed my heart, it spoke of his heart. It’s said, how a man treats his mother is how he’ll treat his wife. I believe that adage to be true, Garland is a wonderful husband, as well as a great father. It’s that other part of him that I can’t quite process. The part that sometimes tripped me up and had me confused as hell. How can the man standing next to me at an event in honor of his mother, be the same man who would take a life? The same man who acted as if he’d already forgotten about it. Garland and I still haven’t talked about what happened, probably because I had been dead set on sticking my head in the sand and pretending like it didn’t. It was easier for me to cope that way. I knew I would have to confront it head-on one day, but, I wasn’t yet ready.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, glancing down at me.
I had leaned in closer to him, my body’s instinct to seek comfort from my troubling thoughts. Ridiculous, right? To find solace in the very thing that troubles me? That’s the crux of my dilemma.
“Nothing’s wrong, I’m just trying to make it clear to grandma over there, you’re already taken. She’s been checking out my man,” I told him, eyeing the woman standing a few feet away to his right.
I said it only in jest, but it was an accurate statement. The older woman’s appreciative eyes had glanced his way several times. Not that I blame her.
“Is that right?” Garland questioned with a lifted brow. “Then, maybe this will help,” he said, pla
cing a lingering kiss on my lips.
I grinned in amusement.
“Come on, let’s get out of here,” he told me with devilment shining in his eyes.
As we made our way down to the main floor, Garland got stopped several times in greeting by passersby—folks he’d identified as fellow sponsors. However, when we neared the Amphitheatre, we ran into Marcel.
“So, this is where the pièce de résistance of the entire exhibit has been hiding, attached to Vidov’s arm,” said Marcel, lavishing me with a charming smile. “Camry, your beauty is weep-worthy, your husband is one lucky bastard.”
I gave him a glowing smile in return. Marcel’s charm was undoubtedly practiced, but very effective. Add in the French accent, any woman would be taken in by it.
“Go find your own woman to weep over, Girard,” my husband told him.
“Ah…but you’ve set the bar too high, my friend, I’m afraid my findings are likely to disappoint,” Marcel replied, a wistful note in his voice and mischief in his eyes.
I grinned, realizing he was deliberately provoking Garland. “Marcel, your charm is on steroids tonight. If I didn’t have this gorgeous man holding me up, I might have just swooned,” I said, aiding in his efforts.
He responded with a huge grin and a triumphant look aimed at Garland.
“Should his be the first face I smash tonight?” my husband asked, reminding me of our earlier conversation at home.
Marcel held up both his hands in surrender. “No need, Vidov, this face is my only hope of coming close to achieving your greatness,” he said, not repentant in the least. He was enjoying his friend’s show of ownership.
To me, he said, “Congratulations on the newest, Vidov, my dear. That is a fine-looking boy you’ve got; it’s obvious he takes after his mother.”
“Thank you,” I beamed, “You’ve seen him?”
“Have I seen him? I’ve got enough photos to start my own album,” he remarked.
Seeing my surprised look, he reached into the inner pocket of his suit jacket and pulled out his phone. Swiping his fingers across it, he pulled up some photos, and there they were; three photos of Roman. There was one of him in the hospital the day he was born, one at home perhaps a couple of weeks later—judging by the look of it, and then another one that had to have been taken within the past week. I knew it was recent because he’d started to morph more into his father; with his growing hair starting to curl up around his ears.
Someone had been super busy with his phone’s camera. I thought in amusement. I didn’t know that guys even did the whole pic-sharing thing.
I looked over at Garland with a loving smile, wanting to kiss him silly. “Someone’s a proud father,” I teased.
“He’s earned the bragging rights,” said Marcel.
“Thank you again, Marcel, for the beautiful flowers you sent, as well as the gift. That was very thoughtful of you,” I told him.
Marcel had sent flowers to the hospital the day after Roman was born, as well as a ginormous stuffed giraffe to the house a week later.
We had received flowers and gifts from other well-wishers, of course, but it was apparent the two men shared a long friendship. Garland, Marcel, and Greg had all been roomies while attending University in London. Marcel was unable to attend our wedding because he’d been out of the country on business at the time, but he sent us an extravagant Ming Dynasty vase as a wedding present. I was in no way familiar with such things, but the cobalt blue and gold vase was stunning and looked to be very expensive. The vase now sat on display in the living room, on the mantle of the fireplace.
“You are very welcome, Camry. It’s my understanding I’ll get to see the little Prince in person soon; I’m looking forward to it,” Marcel replied.
“That’s wonderful! I can’t wait to show off my little guy,” I gushed. I was unaware of any impending event, but I welcomed it.
“I take it you missed my text?” Marcel said to Garland. “That package you asked me to deliver wasn’t so easy to secure, but you’ve got incoming headed your way. It was the only way I could manage it,” he told him.
Garland gave him an indecipherable look as he retrieved his phone from his pocket; presumably to check for that missed text. After glancing at it, he looked back at Marcel, and a look passed between the two of them that I wished I was privy to.
“Sorry, I had to use you as bait. But I’ve got eyes on the outside until you get your own in place, so keep that phone handy,” Marcel said.
What the hell was that all about? Why did I always feel like I was on the outskirts of every-damn-thing?
“Thank you, I’ll make sure I do that,” Garland responded, sounding not all that thrilled.
“I’m on my way out now, I’ve got to go find myself a worthy woman to weep over. But, Camry, enjoy the rest of your evening, dear—and keep this man on his toes,” Marcel said with a sly wink.”
After bidding Marcel farewell, we set off for the performance in the Amphitheatre.
Ten
G A R L A N D
Marcel texted me a heads-up a short while ago, and as predicted, we’d barely made it out of the theatre before encountering Vlad.
“I thought I might see you here tonight,” the idiot remarked, wearing a full-of-shit grin.
“A distinct possibility; considering I’m listed as a sponsor.”
“Mrs. Vidov, a pleasure to see you again so soon,” he said to Camry, annoying the shit out of me.
“A pleasure to see you as well,” she responded politely. Turning to me, she said, “Honey, go ahead and speak with Vlad, I’m desperate to find a restroom—I’m taking Joe with me,” she added before I could suggest she do so.
Turning on her heel, Camry walked quickly away, giving me the impression that she wasn’t interested in another encounter with Vlad.
Neither was I. However, tonight was a necessary evil.
“Let’s get this over with, Vlad,” I told him, nodding my head towards the door.
Tonight, wasn’t the ideal time nor place to have our particular conversation, but that couldn’t be helped.
“Congratulations, brother, I hear you are the proud father of a new son,” Vlad said as we made our way outside.
I didn’t bother responding; I focused on putting distance between us and the crowd milling around outside the building. Vlad’s blessings on the birth of my son were the last thing I wanted or needed.
“I see you’ve managed to crawl out of whatever hellhole you’ve been hiding in; but let me save you the trouble before you even ask, the answer is no,” I told him, stopping in front of a bronze sculpture near the end of the building.
“Your presence in Miami is not only unwelcome but completely intolerable. So, here’s what’s going to happen. Within forty-eight hours I want you on a plane with a one-way ticket homebound for Russia. Not to ever return here. You’ve put me in an untenable position that would guarantee certain death for any other man; so, consider this me showing you leniency.”
“This is what we’ve come to now, brother, threats?” Vlad asked, managing to sound wounded. “I know I’ve fucked-up on occasion, but your complete abandonment and assholery seem a bit harsh, even for you.”
“Complete abandonment?” I questioned disbelievingly. “My refusal to continue cleaning up your shitstorms or to be your personal ATM is hardly abandonment. No, Vlad, abandonment would be me giving the okay for your numerous creditors to hunt you down like an animal and dismember you.”
Why I was attempting to talk logic with a man-child who behaved like a ten-year-old, was beyond me.
“I’m no safer from my creditors in Russia than I am here. Besides that, there are no business prospects for me in Russia—your father and all of his oligarch cronies have seen to that. What am I to do about money?” he asked sullenly.
“Your financial problems are no longer my concern, Vlad; you’ve pissed away every dime and opportunity I’ve ever given you. It’s time you figured out your own shit. Your continued fuc
k-ups and disregard has brought trouble to my doorstep, so right now, your prospects are a lot better in Russia than they are here. Romanovich’s team will meet you on the other side, so I suggest you take him up on his reluctant offer of help, you’ll certainly need it.” I wanted like hell to throttle the dumbass.
Vlad never ceased to incite my anger. It was a unique talent that he possessed.
“Oh…I understand now—I understand completely, brother, you now feel absolved of your guilt since you’ve managed to replace both my sister and my nephew. But, let’s not forget, I know where some of the bodies are buried. I also know Oleg’s recent assassination was part of your handiwork. I know things about you, Reaper, that could be worth a lot of money if put into the right hands,” the asshole threatened.
I saw nothing but red as I moved like a flash and suddenly found my hand wrapped around his throat.
“You dare to threaten me? Your threats are laughable, Vlad. I’m the only thing right now, standing between you and certain death, you moron. I’ve given you my terms; I want your ass back in Russia, now,” I hissed angrily.
Vlad fought against my grip, clawing at my hands to remove them from around his neck.
“This is the last time we will have this conversation. If you want my protection, that’s the only way you’ll be getting it. I suggest you make the smart choice for once in your miserable-fucking-life because from here on out; I don’t want you contacting me. I don’t wish to run into you at functions you know damn well I’ll be attending. And, if I ever hear that you’ve magically run into my wife again—or have uttered another word to her, I will forget that we were once family. Are we clear on that?” I gritted my teeth; feeling a rage I’d not felt in a very long time, it was taking everything for me not to choke the breath out of him.