Beautiful Beast - Page 108

“What?!”

“Police caught them street racing last night. They were driving way over the speed limit. Roman decided to leave them stewing in the precinct’s holding cells today, so they could learn their lesson. He’ll send the lawyer tomorrow to arrange bail.”

“Great.” I sigh and take a seat next to Yulia while Rafael takes the chair on my right.

Mom dances into the dining room with my dad on her heels. His face is still a mask of rage when he takes the seat at the head of the table.

“Did you hear the news?” Yulia pushes me with her elbow. “Dad agreed to me moving out. I’ve found an amazing studio in Hyde Park and—”

“Forget that studio,” Dad interrupts her. “Start looking for a two-bedroom apartment.”

“What?” she shrieks. “But I already put down the deposit. And why would I need two bedrooms?”

“The Ukrainian Mafia is trying to invade our turf. We’re going on high alert, so you’re getting a bodyguard until further notice.”

“Not happening!”

The dining room door flies open, hitting the wall.

“You won’t believe what Luca got me,” Uncle Sergei bellows as he steps inside the room and lays a huge semiautomatic rifle on the table, just next to the platter of pork chops. “What? No lamb today?”

“Get that thing away from the food!” Mom snaps.

“That thing is a KR-101X. A premium, civilian-legal, AK rifle. It’s the newest Kalashnikov, peeps,” he exclaims, visibly offended. “An exclusive, limited pre-production release, with side folding synthetic stock, a sixteen-point-five-inch barrel, and it takes magazine-fed chambered seven-six-two by thirty-nine caliber rounds.”

“It’s a five-five-six NATO,” Rafael comments as he reaches for the bowl of mashed potatoes.

“No, it’s not.” Sergei leans over and grabs the rifle, fumbling with the magazine. “Fuck me. It is.”

“Jesus fucking Christ!” My dad slams his palm on the table, making the glasses and cutlery rattle. “Put the blasted thing away, Sergei! We’re eating!”

“Always a party pooper.” My uncle rolls his eyes. “At least Rafael here can appreciate high-quality firearms. De Santi, did you get a chance to try one out?”

“As a matter of fact, I did.”

Oh no. I put my hand on Rafael’s thigh under the table and squeeze. “Rafael, don’t!”

“A shipment for the Ministry of Defense somehow got misdirected and ended up in the Catania Port last week,” Rafael continues. “And magically, my name was on the shipment documents. Something must have gone wrong on their server.” He looks down at me, pride written all over his face. “Amazing work, baby.”

“You hacked the goddamn Italian Ministry of Defense for him?” Dad snarls, leaping out of his chair.

“Don’t you dare raise your voice at my wife, Petrov!” Rafael roars back.

Ugh. I put my elbows on the table and bury my hands in my hair. The yelling match continues with my dad and husband exchanging curses and death threats. Over the noise, I can hear my mom instructing my aunt to remove the knives from the table. Uncle Sergei is on the phone with someone—probably Grandpa Felix—inquiring about the next arms shipment for the US DOD and the likelihood of having it intercepted.

“Is it always going to be like this?” I mumble.

“Probably.” Yulia shrugs, reaching for the salad. “I’m definitely marrying a dentist.”

A loud bang comes from the kitchen. Everyone stops shouting, snapping their heads toward the source.

“What was that?” someone asks, but the question gets lost in a cacophony of screams and clamor that explodes beyond the adjacent door.

“Um . . . Igor snuck away from the retirement home.” My mom smiles sheepishly while hiding the steak knife behind her back. “He’s trying out a bourbon shrimp flambé recipe, kotik.”

Smoke and the smell of something burning slowly permeate the room. The upgraded fire alarm that Dad had installed after the microwave incident starts blaring, and, a second later, water surges from the overhead sprinklers, soaking the food and everyone sitting at the table.

I push the wet strands of hair off my face and look at my husband. “Welcome to the family, baby.”

The End