The Marriage (Darkest Lies Trilogy Book 3) Bethany-Kris (read this if txt) 📖

fingers while his gaze jumped between father and son, the rest of his men stood in a small semi-circle behind him.

A silent wall of threats.

What a greeting.

Dima was taking extra effort to command their respect—from the unknown location that was out of the way, to the quiet men eyeing them, ready for their first move. It was laughable.

“It’s been a while, Dima, and I was starting to get worried about you,” Roman said jokingly.

Dima didn’t seem to appreciate the dry humor. “Quit playing the fool. You should be fucking grateful I didn’t kill you on that highway when I had the chance.”

Roman nodded, smirking a little. “No, you just left me there to bleed or freeze to death. It was exactly the reminder I needed.”

“Reminder of what?”

“That I don’t like being told what to do. You’re right, man, you should have killed me when you had the chance.”

Dima’s face molted with his rage but despite the way he glared like he might jump out of his chair at Roman, he only muttered back, “All of this can be over very soon. You have something of mine, and I want it back. Just like that—simple. It’s all I’m asking.”

“It?” Roman asked, his tone edging dangerously low.

“You know what I’m talking about. I told you, yeah? We’re done playing stupid—and I refuse to indulge spoiled sukas. We’re here to do what we have to do, no? Let’s do that, pup.”

Roman didn’t even acknowledge the insult.

The bastard wanted it.

Dima leaned towards one of his men, sticking his cigar between his lips. The guy lit it without question, and the two were cloaked behind a cloud of smoke for a few passing seconds.

“Karine isn’t an object to own,” Roman stated, wanting that to be clear. He didn’t care how his tone came off, or if he had plastered just enough fuck you in it for the other man to hear, but he figured the words did the job regardless.

Demyan made the slightest movement beside him, likely to serve as a reminder for Roman to not lose his shit. He’d already figured that was going to be a toss up. They did need this asshole to back off a little in New York because his antics caused an already-growing pile of problems to get larger.

Roman couldn’t forget that side of things, either. There were so many reasons this meeting needed to go well, and so many more that he had for it to end as bloody as possible.

Dima smiled.

It truly was a strange sight, knowing what he did about the man ... He could make his face seem so friendly, even if it was without sincerity, but one wouldn’t necessarily know it straightaway. Disarming, really, that monsters looked so much like everyday people.

“Is that what you think she is—human?” Dima barked out with a laugh. “She’s nothing but a bitch who’s lost her marbles. If I had a dog, yes, he would make more sense than she fucking does.”

Roman considered ending the man—he went as far as to mentally count the steps it would take to cross the room, reach him, and strangle Dima with his bare hands. Of course, the men with the weapons would have made it impossible but nonetheless ... he considered it.

It might have been worth it.

“So, what will it be? Are you going to sacrifice your bratva to keep my property hidden temporarily? Because you know I will find her,” Dima continued, shrugging though his facial expressions didn’t waver from his jovial, kind smile. “I will keep coming until finally I hit the mark. What then? You’re the one whose home reeks of pig shit lately, old—”

“We’re not friends.”

It was Roman’s turn to chuckle, the sound of it wiping that smirk from Dima’s face as he scrubbed his palm down his own, and shot his father a quick look from the side. The man was an idiot.

“She’s gone,” he said with a little grin.

Dima’s façade slipped—his brows dipped low.

Roman lifted a shoulder, not giving the prick a chance to respond before he added, “Yeah, man, I couldn’t believe it at first, either. We can’t all be perfect, though, but you made a big mistake.”

Dima started to stand from the chair, asking in a snarl, “What do you think you know about my mistakes, huh?”

“I know that you left someone alive, and you were trying hard to keep everyone else from finding out, too.”

Demyan lifted a hand, as if silently saying hello, before adding quietly, “Your attempts at getting a meeting with me was for nothing after all—we don’t actually have what you want. And seeing as how Chicago hasn’t cleaned up its own mess, I’m sure you can understand why New York will take a step back from here. Unless you want word to travel about Maxim ... I mean, how long are you going to last here in the state once word gets around that you’ve been lying to gain people’s favors? Pretending to be a king ... I already sent out a few messengers to specific heads of enterprises I know you’ve worked with since arriving. You’re one big target, Dima.”

Roman’s father flipped an indifferent wave of his hand, letting the steaming man across the room bear the brunt of more disrespect. Like he was saying he was done in a gesture because nothing more was worth the effort.

“And the beauty of this is—even I don’t know where she is,” Roman told Dima, nodding, “but she’s not with you, and that’s all I give a damn about.”

Dima finally lost his composure, shouting, “She’s to be married to me!”

Yeah, about that ...

“Too late—she already married me.”

It took a second to register.

A glorious second.

“What did you just say?”

Dima’s face mottled red.

Time to bounce, Roman thought, already spinning around to leave with his father on his heels. He could hear Dima’s tantrum spilling over, but Demyan’s threat was clearly a real concern for the asshole because his men let them leave.

He waved a hand high, saying, “Yeah, we got married—kept it