The Life (The Russian Guns)

by Bethany-Kris

  “No, no way,” Anton said quickly. “Definitely not too much, baby. God, you’re beautiful. You’re killing me here. Look at you.”

  With one hand held out, Anton spun Viviana in a small circle, taking an inventory of her figure in a dress he’d never seen before. While his wife always dressed appropriately and looked amazing, it wasn’t often she went to this extent.

  “You trying to prove a point or something, Viviana?”

  “Nope. Just thought it’d be a while before I’d get to dress up like this again. The next few months are going to be what? Spit up, formula, poo, no sleep, and joy.” Viviana laughed a tinkling sound, her hand falling to her stomach. “He’s not going to give me much of a break to be your pretty wife, so, why not?”

  Leaning down, Anton kissed the corner of her mouth, mindful of the lipstick she’d carefully applied. “You’re always going to be my pretty wife, Vine.”

  “Yes, but will I always look the part? That’s the real question.”

  Anton hummed dismissively, dragging his hand down to the swell of her hip. “Yeah, always.”

  “So …” Viviana smile turned into a thin frown. “What’s the plan tonight?”

  “Nothing you need to concern yourself with. You’ll stay no longer than five or ten minutes, and then go. The only ones aware you’re going to be leaving are me, Ivan, and Erik. That way, it’ll be a last minute thing no one expected. I don’t want you there for longer than necessary. The less people who know you’re leaving, the better. It’ll seem unplanned, which is better for us all.”

  “That’s not what I meant, Anton. I mean about handling—”

  “You don’t get to ask about that,” he said calmly.

  “But you are going to deal with it, right?”

  Anton stared at his reflection in the mirror, his eyes immediately drawn to the woman at his side and the swell of her midsection. Yeah, he was going to handle the Belovs. It wouldn’t be pretty. Actually, it’d be downright messy. Erik’s ability to bribe certain city officials was going to come in mighty handy, also when it came time to handle the cleanup.

  “Smile, baby, that’s all you need to worry about. Just smile.” Anton glanced down at his watch, seeing the time. “It’s nearly five, so we need to go.”

  “Joe and Rory aren’t escorting us?” she asked.

  “They already left. Two other bulls are at the restaurant helping them check Sergei, his guys, and Tatiana when they arrive.”

  The wooden box on the bath’s counter caught his eye for a second. Luckily, as Anton nearly forgot about the object in the presence of his wife. Viviana had that effect on him every damned time. She made his mind muddle up something fierce.

  “Also, before I forget.” Anton snatched up the box, opening it up to expose a small handgun resting in a holster. “You’re wearing this, no arguments.”

  Viviana stared at the weapon with barely contained disgust. “But if I’m leaving and there’s no risk for me, why do I need it?”

  Anton shrugged. “Because you’re pregnant with my child and I’m asking you to. It’ll be hidden on your thigh, I know you can shoot it, and it’s just a precaution.”

  “Joe and Rory—”

  “Stop arguing with me on this. It’s important you have a gun on you.”

  “We’re being checked at the restaurant, too, Anton.”

  “There’s not a soul in that room who would dare put their hands between your legs. Not with me standing right there. That dress is too tight for it to be hidden elsewhere, and as you asked for no heat, they won’t expect you to have one on anyway.”

  Bending down, Anton said nothing as he clasped the holster around her thigh and tightened it to fit. Viviana didn’t fight with him as he tugged on the Velcro to insure it wasn’t going to slip down.

  “Comfortable?”

  Viviana shuddered. “No. I know it’s there. So, no.”

  “Vine, listen to me,” he whispered pleadingly. Glancing up, Anton could see the tension in her face, the unease in her eyes. His fingers skimmed the insides of her thighs, hoping to will some of her discomfort away. “Do not take this off until I say it’s okay to do so. Please.”

  “Do you honestly think I need it?”

  “I know what I’m doing tonight. I know what Ivan and Erik are doing. I know what my brothers will do when I ask them to do it. What I don’t know is who has been working with Sergei, or who would hurt you if given the chance. Could someone be waiting outside of the restaurant when you leave?” Anton asked rhetorically, ignoring the wince Viviana responded with. “Yeah, baby, they could. Rory and Joe aren’t going to be inside so they can also keep their guns, but they don’t know why they aren’t allowed inside. They, like everybody else, think you’re going to be there start to finish. Just … do this for me.”

  Over the last two weeks, Anton had provided his wife whatever information she wanted. When she asked about the tires, he told her the truth. When she wanted to surmise on who was going behind Anton’s back, he talked it out with her. While it wasn’t easy, and there was a lot he didn’t want her to know for the sake of her own sanity, he told her anyway.

  If she had the will to ask, she had the will to know.

  Anton made no apologies for keeping it from her initially and Viviana didn’t ask for one.

  “Okay,” Viviana finally said with a small nod.

  *

  As far as Viviana was concerned, the differences between her and Tatiana Belov were obvious. She was an olive hue to Tatiana’s milk and cream complexion. Dark eyes to a slate-blue. Viviana had been born with an Italian set of morals and the Russian girl had been brought up spoiled by her Bratva roots. And while they were both exceptionally beautiful in their own rights, Viviana was not ugly in her heart.

  There was no hatred in Viviana’s stare as she stood across from Tatiana.

  Tatiana, however, did not hide her contempt in the slightest.

  Viviana ignored the burning gaze from Tatiana as Anton removed the fur coat from her shoulders and handed it to a man waiting. The article was dubiously checked, as was the suit jacket her husband removed. She stood in silence, watching as Anton stood off to the side and allowed Sergei’s men to check him for weapons.

  A pen was drawn out of his pants pocket and Anton scoffed. “Really? You’re worried about that?”

  “Boss?” the man asked, turning to Sergei expectantly.

  Sergei waved off the item and the pen was handed back to Anton like nothing was amiss. When the unknown man turned on Viviana, ready to check her as well, Anton growled under his breath.

  “Do not put hands on my wife without asking for permission.”

  “Touchy,” Tatiana said dryly.

  “Shush.” Sergei admonished his daughter with a single look. “Kain, you know better. Anton, may he check her?”

  Anton nodded, his eyes flicked away from the man, dismissive and bored. “Touch her skin and I will remove your fingers.”

  Viviana managed not to shiver as Kain’s hands skimmed her waist. There wasn’t a place on her body she could hide a gun, other than the spot Anton had put the small revolver, so to her the act of being frisked was nothing more than a show. Something to make her uncomfortable. And it did.

  When Kain’s hand unexpectedly roamed over her midsection, Viviana flinched.

  Anton didn’t miss the distress for a second. Without warning, Viviana found herself pushed backwards at the same time Kain was lifted from the floor. His back slammed down to a table. The room went deafeningly quiet as silverware, wine glasses, and a chair toppled over in Anton’s aggression. The warning that shouted from Anton’s mouth in Russian was nothing compared to his clenched fists as he pulled Kain up from the table just long enough to slam him back down.

  It only took a brief moment before people started to move around them. Fortunately, no weapons or guns meant there wasn’t much anyone could do but watch and wait it out. Viviana caught sight of nothing as Ivan tugged her to the side, his arm wrapping to her shoulde
rs and turning her back to the action.

  “Shh,” he said quietly in her ear. “Let him make his point.”

  “You dare to touch my child?” Anton shouted. “Do you think she’s hiding something there, you fucking fool?”

  “I apologize,” Kain said in a gasp of breath.

  “Louder, so my wife will hear it, too.” Another slam of Kain’s back hitting the table resounded. Viviana bit her lip to keep from asking Anton to stop. She understood he was only doing it to keep anyone else’s hands from touching her again. “Now!”

  “I apologize for touching your child, Pakhan.”

  Viviana was allowed to turn around just in time to see Kain moving off the table. Anton was wiping his hands on his dress shirt, seemingly disgusted that he had touched the man at all.

  “I think I’ve had enough of my wife being handled, Sergei,” Anton muttered bitingly. “The next one of your men who do it will apologize with their life. Are we clear?”

  “Funny, my daughter didn’t have the slightest issue being checked by your men,” Sergei replied.

  “My wife is not your daughter.” Anton tipped his chin up, offering Tatiana a baleful look and a cruel sneer. “Viviana is accustomed to my hands, not just any man’s. Can Tati say the same?”

  Sergei turned red but Viviana beat him to the verbal punch.

  “Anton, no more.” It was quiet and forceful, but the statement was enough to level out the emotions running high in the room. Viviana took a step out of Ivan’s hold and laid her hand to Anton’s arm gently. “Apologize. That was uncalled for.”

  Anton glanced down at her, his brow cocking as the corner of his mouth lifted with the ghost of a grin.

  “Acting like a principessa.” His Russian roughened up the Italian word, and Viviana snorted under her breath when he added, “Not the time, baby.”

  “A lady, not a Cosa Nostra princess. Apologize. For me?”

  “Sergei, my wife assumes I’ve offended your daughter,” Anton said, not taking his eyes off Viviana. His smirk grew when the Jersey Pakhan stayed silent. “My wife forgets it was Tatiana who called her a Russian whore months ago.”

  “I didn’t forget, I forgave. There’s a difference.”

  Anton ticked two of his fingers under her chin, winking as he leaned down to kiss her cheek. “True, my merciful little wife,” he said, turning back to the others. “My apologies, Sergei. Are you happy with the restaurant, and did it meet your requirements?”

  Sergei, looking unhappily at his daughter who studied her manicure with the falsest fascination, sighed. “Well enough. The employees were fine with letting my men check the floors and backrooms so long as your men were with them. The owner closed before supper to extend us privacy. It works.”

  “Any feds following?”

  “They trailed after my daughter’s bulls when we switched cars an hour away. You?” Sergei asked.

  “The same, though it took us … What, three switches, Vine?”

  “Three too many,” Viviana said under her breath. She hated switching cars, but the meeting wasn’t one anyone wanted overheard or recorded, so she dealt with it. “May we sit, now? I’m not feeling well, and I’m not to be on my feet for long.”

  “Yes, sit.”

  Sergei wasted no time prodding his daughter into a chair at a ready-set table. Anton pulled out a seat for Viviana, his mouth coming down to graze along her neck as she sat. She couldn’t help but notice the acidic gaze of Tatiana had turned on her once again.

  Viviana met the girl’s hatred head on, unbothered and not willing to give her the rise she so clearly wanted.

  A lady, she reminded herself silently.

  Jealousy was an ugly, horrible color to wear.

  The dozen of men in the room wandered to designated spots as Sergei waved for the man closest to them to sit down at the next table, and Anton waved for Ivan and Erik to sit as well.

  “Your Sovietnik couldn’t join?” Anton asked.

  “His thoughts on this dinner did not match mine,” Sergei said cryptically.

  “Unfortunate,” Ivan stated to Anton’s right.

  “Yes, well, he’ll come around, I’m sure.” Sergei smiled, but the expression didn’t stick with Viviana as true. “Shall we eat?”

  “Vine?” Anton’s hand came to rest on her stomach at the question. Viviana smiled, ignoring the tender ache in her lower back as she straightened a little further in her chair.

  “Let’s eat.”

  *

  Anton watched for the third time as Viviana hid her scowl by tipping up her glass of water and rubbed her lower back with her free hand. Already, she’d been at the dinner for much longer than he anticipated she would be, so it was just about time for her to take her leave. If she was uncomfortable or in pain, it was even more of a reason to get her home and in their bed.

  “Hey, are you okay?” Anton asked.

  All the movement at the table stopped at his question.

  Viviana set her glass to the table and shook her head. “Just … my lower back is starting to act up again.”

  “Pregnancy will do that.” Tatiana observed Viviana from the other side of the table with an almost dismissive quality. Anton bit back his retort. The comment might have been easy to overlook if her next one wasn’t so scathing. “After all, you can’t expect to blow up like a balloon and not have some issues, right?”

  Viviana’s jaw ticked. “Have you been pregnant before, Tati? I didn’t realize you had personal experience in the work of bearing a child.”

  “God, no.” Tatiana scoffed with a roll of her blue eyes. “I would never allow my body to go through that kind of hell.”

  “I’d be pleased to have a grandchild eventually,” Sergei said, keeping his eyes down on his plate as he wiped his mouth. Anton knew Tatiana was Sergei’s only child. The one son he did have died in infancy, regrettably. “Never say never, my dear.”

  “If I get any say, it damn well will be never.”

  Sergei dropped his napkin to the table. “Wonderful.”

  Anton ignored the exchange, his attention fully diverted to his wife. He wasn’t sure if she was faking the discomfort, or if she was really experiencing it. It wasn’t unusual and considering the heels she wore, her back could very well be bothering her. The doctor appointment they went to the day before said she didn’t appear to be close to delivering, despite being one week off from her due date.

  “Vine?” he asked again, a little more forcefully. She didn’t have to answer for Anton to see the obvious anxiety filling up her gaze. The small smile she offered him didn’t quite reach her eyes, either. Lowering his voice, he leaned into her side to only she would hear him. “How long?”

  Viviana all but brushed his concern off. “Since this morning, but nothing is regular or too bothersome. It’s just a back ache, Anton.”

  Anton straightened in his chair, tossing Ivan a look over his wife’s shoulder. “Viviana needs to go home. Immediately.”

  Sergei’s fork clattered to his plate. “But—”

  “But nothing,” Anton interrupted firmly. “She’s in pain and she’s diabetic. What she needs right now is rest, not stress. Considering she only has one more week to do so, I’d like for her to be calm and comfortable. Has my wife not met your desires for this dinner, Sergei?”

  “Tatiana?” Sergei asked instead, glancing his daughter’s way.

  The blonde flicked her wrist dismissively. “I’m sure we’re good, right, Vine?”

  Viviana huffed out a breath of air. It was the first show of frustration she had shown towards the other woman all evening.

  “Sure,” Viviana said dully. “Just fine.”

  Anton stood and Sergei followed immediately. “May I walk her out, Anton?”

  That hadn’t exactly been in his plans, but Anton couldn’t see the harm. Unless Viviana didn’t agree, that was. “Vine, you good?”

  She nodded. “Yes, of course.”

  Helping Viviana to stand, he couldn’t help but notice
how hard her stomach seemed to be under his palm. She shook off his second voice of concern with a roll of her eyes. Anton took a moment to say goodbye, kissing her mouth and letting her wipe the red stain the kiss left behind on his lips.

  “Love you, hmm?” he whispered.

  Viviana grinned as Sergei offered his hand for her to take. “Like crazy.”

  Anton didn’t watch Sergei walk his wife through the restaurant, but he make sure Boris followed close behind. Knowing it would probably be his only chance to get Tatiana in private, he turned back to the table and sat down, meeting the girl’s unbidden, vile gaze.

  “I can’t help but wonder …” Tatiana lips curved with a spiteful grin as she regarded Anton. “After she’s had that child of yours, will she still be so pretty? Will you still pant at her feet like her puppy dog? Who do you think your first whore will be, Anton, someone you know, or someone you don’t? Do you think she’ll cry?”

  Anton took her words for what they were worth: absolutely nothing.

  “How much does it bother you, Tati?” he asked back quietly. “Enough that you had to hire a photographer to watch her at our home? Did you want to punish yourself so much that you had to have proof she was mine, that she was pregnant, safe, and happy? Was that it?”

  Tatiana leaned back in her chair, a perfectly shaped brow lifting in her contemplation. “Why would I want to watch your wife, Anton?”

  The arrogant smugness in her tone couldn’t be hidden. It prickled at Anton’s nerves like nothing else. “That’s not a denial.”

  “Oh, he’s good-looking and quick,” Tatiana quipped.

  “Your reason—it’s jealousy. It always has been. It was jealousy that made you come to my club after Vine and I were engaged, because in your crazy head, I couldn’t have possibly found a woman to tie me down. It was jealously that made you check up on me weeks ago. My wife was right, Tati. She is not the one between you who feels envy, because she already has everything you don’t. But, slashing her tires, photographing her at home, that’s a whole other ballgame. Do you hate me that badly? Is your father truly stupid enough to go along with it?”

  “Not you. Her. Sergei doesn’t give a shit about her, he just wanted what should have been his so he let me be.”