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

small and private, sorry you didn’t get an invite. I have a feeling you don’t love weddings. Don’t really seem like the type, you know?”

“It doesn’t mean shit,” Dima yelled at his back.

“It does,” Roman murmured over his shoulder.

Of course, it meant something.

EIGHTEEN

Demyan Avdonin had never been the type to believe all was well, even when things worked to his favor. So even as the scene with Dima faded into the distance, seemingly over for a moment, the bratva boss’s mind was still making sure everything was fine elsewhere.

Which was why as his man driving put more miles on the freeway, Demyan sent a message to his wife. He’d promised to, after all.

Tonight was one of the most difficult of his life.

In many ways.

He was an old friend to loss, and a long time ago, would have welcomed death just to escape the monster of that trauma. Yet, nothing quite matched up to what it felt like to stand in a secluded, dilapidated farmhouse surrounded by men who would have killed him and his son without hesitation—if it came to that.

Demyan had needed to be so sure of his hand walking in there, and he’d only been a little comfortable, to be honest.

A bad ending was never out of the question. It could have happened at any moment.

He’d done that enough in his past—rise, when nothing else was certain. Anything could have changed everything at the drop of a hat.

This time it was different because his son was there. All too often, it felt like Roman was the one running his own show. A lifetime away from his father’s reach. Out of Demyan’s control.

Claire would never have forgiven him had their only son not walked away from this night. She would have blamed him for encouraging their son to go to this meeting, and he would have let her do it.

Before they left, she was sent to a safe house for the duration of the meeting. Just because he and Roman had made choices in life that placed them in dangerous situations didn’t mean his wife couldn’t be safe while they did business.

So, he told her as much.

Claire would understand.

There was a lot more he wanted to tell her, but never would. He’d learned a long time ago she didn’t enjoy watching her son step into the shoes and shadows of men who came before him.

Nonetheless, Roman had impressed him tonight. There was a lot on the line for his son, and Demyan supposed he was finally starting to show just how far he’d go for it.

Like always, Roman did things on his own time and schedule. Sometimes, he’d fit in what others around him needed, but at the end of the day, he still took what he wanted. Did what he had to do.

Like all leaders.

There was a reason they got to the top.

Claire’s reply to Demyan’s text, her confirmation she had arrived home before him, didn’t come until he was minutes away from their gated community. By then, he’d gotten another text.

From security at the main gates.

Demyan paid a lot of money for the association of their community to look the other way and disregard his guests, along with not keeping a proper log to trace. He left nothing to chance.

“Drive faster,” he demanded of Pavel in the front seat when he read the text from the guard.

A Mr.Yazov has been granted access to the community as your guest.

Demyan filled Pavel in on their new situation as he shot his message a message to Claire right after—Get a gun.

He only knew one Mr. Yazov.

What was Maxim doing now?

*

He found them in the kitchen, but Demyan sensed something was different the moment he’d stepped inside his house. The one thing he hadn’t concerned himself with were his men—they’d known what to do the moment Pavel made a single call.

Claire would be safe until he got home.

That was all he cared about.

He stopped in his tracks at the kitchen door when he saw Maxim Yazov sitting at his kitchen table. He had been almost completely certain Maxim was alive, so much so that he’d been willing to send a number of messengers about such a fact, but Demyan was still taken aback to see the man just ... there.

Claire was making coffee with her back turned to him, but she looked over at Demyan with a sweet smile.

Always perfect, she seemed entirely unconcerned by the scene, or the fact there were men posted just beyond her kitchen door. Of course, the bulls came and went often, but they weren’t so formal.

Not like they currently stood, eyes averted when their boss walked in.

Demyan noted the gun his wife had set on the edge of the island, except it wasn’t one he recognized. Maxim seemed to notice his stare.

“I offered her mine at the door,” his old friend filled in quietly.

Demyan nodded, but said nothing else.

The kitchen was mostly dark, other than a dim light at the counter that helped Claire do her work making coffee.

It took him a moment to speak again; to find the words ...

“You look well for a dead man,” Demyan said.

Maxim immediately broke into a smile.

Claire brought two cups of coffee over to the table and placed it there. The second cup wasn’t for herself, but for her husband. She glanced disapprovingly at Demyan, and he could read her mind with nothing more than a look into her eyes.

She was unhappy. Anger and frustration tugged her lips into a frown.

Her son and husband’s lives were in danger tonight—and the man who was at the core of that was now at her kitchen table. She would be hospitable and polite, but she wasn’t going to be friendly or warm.

Demyan didn’t expect more.

She also retrieved the gun from the island, and placed it right in the middle of the table.

“I’ll be in our room if you need me,” she said before taking her leave from the kitchen. Her job was done. Maxim was Demyan’s responsibility now, and