Russian Mobster's Princess Read Online Free

stretched into a tight smile. “And you get your wish.”
    She followed him down a narrow hallway to a door on the right. He put in a key and pushed his way inside. Kira followed, holding her breath and almost dreading what she might see.
    “Sorry,” Viktor muttered. “Although it could certainly be worse.”
    Kira didn’t answer. She walked to the middle of the room and spun a tight circle. The dingy green shag carpet certainly didn’t do anything for the space, nor did the dull brown linoleum in the kitchen, or the chipped Formica countertops. There was a small refrigerator and a stove that looked as if it had seen better days. Someone had put a microwave on one countertop opposite the sink.
    The rest of the apartment wasn’t much better. A sagging brown couch, a recliner that was almost threadbare in places that sat before one tiny television on a rickety cart. At least the bathroom was tolerable. The white porcelain fixtures looked as though they hailed from another era, but there were no massive cockroaches waiting in the sinks.
     
    VIKTOR WAITED FOR Kira to notice what he already had. He saw her drift into the bedroom and then come out and open a closet door. Then she turned and looked at him with an expression of uncertainty.
    “There’s only one bedroom?” she demanded, an obvious note of panic in her voice.
    Viktor nodded. There was really no need to soften the blow. “That’s right. If we sleep on opposite sides of the bed, it will be perfectly proper.”
    She snorted. “Considering we are married, it would be perfectly proper anyway. I’m just not accustomed to sharing a bed with anyone.”
    He could not have said why, but that statement gave him immeasurable relief. Still, he saw no need to treat her like a princess. “I suppose you can sleep on the sofa, if you’d like.”
    She gazed with distaste at the sagging cushions and hard, unforgiving arms. “I’m a dancer, not a pygmy! I’ll be a pretzel by tomorrow if I try to sleep there. My rest is very important.”
    “Then I suppose you’ll be sleeping in the bed with me.” He shrugged.
    She looked huffy. “You know, you’re not much of a gentleman.”
    “Why? Because I would rather share a bed with my wife than go sleep on an ancient couch made for dwarves? Yes. That does make me quite an ass.”
    “Exactly!”
    “I do not recall you being such a diva when we were married,” Viktor said irritably. “Or have you forgotten who it is that continues to pay your bills?”
    She froze in the middle of trying to answer him back. He could see the shame on her face and felt horrible for being the one to put it there. Still, she needed to remember how things worked. But instead of being contrite, she stomped over to her bag and pulled out what appeared to be a bankbook.
    She then thrust the book at him. “This record shows where all of your stipend money has been going. I created a savings account in your name, and every month when you send me the payment, I put it in this account.”
    For some reason, this really pissed Viktor off. “Why would you do that?”
    “Because I can take care of myself!”
    Her vehemence confused him. “Why are you shouting at me?”
    “You’re the one who is shouting.” She pointed at him.
    Finally she turned her back to him and stalked over to the sofa. She was muttering in Russian, too low and fast for him to understand. Viktor didn’t get it. Kira had been unassuming and almost docile when he had first met her. Where had this attitude come from?
    She was digging in her bag. Finally, she plopped down on the floor and began to stretch. He watched for several moments before he realized he was staring.
    “Why are you doing that?” he asked.
    She didn’t even look up to meet his gaze. “Because if I don’t, I will be sore as hell tomorrow. I danced tonight, but you interrupted my cool down. Normally I would have gone through all of these stretches in my dressing room.”
    “Oh.” He couldn’t really fault