Page 22 of Koroleva

The first thing that crossed my mind was that this was her lover, I admit, and although I felt nothing more for Nikita than rage and a sick desire after our nocturnal encounter, I felt the need to follow them.

I saw how they slipped into the room next to where we were holding the banquet and decided to give them five minutes to catch them in fraganti.

One thing was for her to sleep with whoever she wanted before we got married, but it was quite another for her to get intimate with her man on our wedding day. I wasn't going to allow her to make a fool of me in front of my entire family.

Nikita Koroleva needed a major lesson, someone to put her in her place. She wasn't the docile woman my father thought she was, that much was clear. Nikita exuded confidence and power, she was as manageable as a granite pillar, yet under the right pressure, even granite could be broken. And I was going to have that privilege.

The door opened unexpectedly, the five minutes hadn't passed yet. My face turned to stone as the tall, short-haired guy met my questioning gaze. He said nothing. He kept his cool demeanor, which accompanied the entire entourage of the Ice Queen, making it clear he didn't care that I was her husband, because he only answered to her.

He simply walked past and left the way he came. I didn't want to confront him, after all, he was just a pawn and my target was the queen.

A few seconds later, she emerged. My wife. With that dark angel face and body from hell. Wrapped in glitter, as if that didn't betray her status.

I carefully observed her red lips. The makeup hadn't smudged, but that didn't mean anything. She had them coated with one of those lipsticks that don't come off until the next day. I knew because it was the same type my mistress used to suck my dick without leaving a mark.

Had she been making out with that guy? What had happened between them in that room?

I opted to stand in front of her, loading the revolver of my sharp tongue, and fired. Her responses sought to annoy me, she didn't even consider giving me a credible excuse to ease my anger. Why would she bother? She did whatever she wanted, no man had ever dared to defy her, or so Nikita believed.

Why did she agree to the marriage? She didn't even want to meet me, and that made me suspicious. She wasn't one of those Russians who sell themselves online to the highest bidder. She had an agenda, I was sure of it. But what? I couldn't quite believe the whole Putin story.

I knew my reasons, the ones that led me to accept this crazy idea from my father, but hers were foreign to me, and I was determined to find them out.

That woman was poison. As sweet as it was lethal. And I was not about to drink it, no matter that my name was Romeo.

After an unproductive exchange, I let her go to the bathroom and returned to the banquet hall.

I approached Aleksa, my right-hand man, to speak with him.

His father was Croatian and his mother Colombian. He worked for a major cartel and she was a prostitute and a mule. He was born and grew up in a hostile environment, where the difference between killing or dying made you take your own side of the board.

"I want you to keep an eye on him," I said, nodding discreetly towards the man who had been with my wife.

"Consider it done, R. Is something wrong?"

"I don't know, but keep me informed. I want to know every move he makes," he nodded.

As I was about to return to the table, I noticed Adriano in a corner of the room, looking at everyone with hostility. I didn’t like to see him excluded; after all, he was my son, and he deserved to enjoy the party.

I went over to him, squatted down, and looked him in the eyes.

"You can't stay like this, you have to have fun, go play with your cousins."

"I don't want to, you got married."

"We've already talked about this." He crossed his arms and scowled in a very Capuleto way.

"I don't like it, she wants to kick Brutus out, you heard her."

"She didn’t say that."

"She’s allergic!" he defended.

"But she hasn’t said that." The boy pressed his lips together.

"I don't need a mother."

"That’s not true. Everyone needs one."

---