Page 94 of Jewel of the Assassin

“Privet, moya dorogaya, Mamochka.”

I don’t need to know anything about Russian to know he just addressed her as “Mommy”. Playful. Mocking. Playful again. My cheeks turn redder. Total mortification.

And tipping his head back with a roaring laugh, he says, “I’d like to introduce you to mywife.”

32

“Valentina will give me all the answers I require.”

ROMAN

No, I admit I did not expect this would be the first time Valentina would meet my mother, but it’s as good a time as any.

Unlike my father and brother, Mamma and I have a healthy relationship. Tonight will be a worthy test. Valentina will undoubtedly wonder why she and my mother have never met. And I’ll admit, I have no worthy explanation. I’ll leave that to my equally cunning mother.

“Roman, you have been a very bad boy again, haven’t you?” Mamma scolds me, her eyes nearly feral, as commanding as mine.

I shrug, not losing my grin.

Valentina bucks and mouths, “Get out”. I grin. But as my Queen commands…

As soon as I leave the hot, wet heaven of her pussy, Valentina stands straight up, turns around, and burns her eyes against mine. So adorable with her fists balled as she stares me down, coveredin my teeth, my welts, my everything. I tilt my head and smile at my cum dripping down her thighs and onto the chapel floor.

With a huff, she shoves me out of the way. Naked and unashamed, I hug my arms and eye her as she picks up one of the towels Mikhail left.

“I did not give you permission to wipe yourself off, did I, Moya Koroleva?” I croon.

A sweet smile encroaches on her face, but I read the mischief there as she takes two steps toward me. Flashing me a grin, Valentina promptly shoves the wet towel right in my fucking face.

“You didn’t give me permission to dothateither,” she snipes, and by the time I chuck the towel away, she’s out of reach, wrapping a fresh blanket around herself and walking down the platform steps and to the aisle.

Despite my own cum coating my face, I cock my head, admiring how my wife walks with a noticeable limp and congratulating myself. But I’m more intrigued by how she will address my mother—unless she’s too embarrassed and departs without a word. My chest tightens. I hope for something in the former definition.

When Valentina pauses before my mother, though she is shorter, my wife rises, standing tall and proud. And then…oh, great heavens, Valentina crosses one foot behind her, curtsying low, bowing her head, and holding the curtsy for a good few seconds.

“Vasha Blagodat,” Valentina begins, and my mother and I both lift our brows in surprise. Seems my Jewel has been practicing her Russian. In this case, she addressed my mother in a dramatic regality of ‘Your Grace’.

“It’s an honor to meet you. If you’ll pardon mybarbarianof a husband,”—she tosses her hair back with a knifing glower—“I would love to invite you to share a late-night refreshment with me in the sitting room. Chef Emilian will be only too pleased to help me entertain such an esteemed guest. Naturally, I will change first and meetwith you shortly.”

I reach for a fresh towel and wrap it around my waist as Valentina limps out of the chapel, leaving my mother and I alone. Zina and Mikhail stand outside the door, equally awed. Pride fills me more.

“Roman Leonid Makarova,” Mamma addresses me, her voice sharp and authoritative. “Ty vstretil svoyu ravnuyu.”You’ve met your equal. “I am adopting her. You are the accessory, moy syn. If you let her go, I will personallycastrateyou.”

I throw my head back with a hearty laugh before advancing to she who birthed me. My mother snivels as she eyes my state, but it doesn’t take long for her to roll her eyes and offer me an approving smile. “You have some explaining to do, Roman.”

“Hmm, indeed.”

“I suspected you had stolen away your brother’s bride,” she notes, expression shrewd and matter-of-fact.

“One cannot steal what belongs to them,” I correct.

She nods. “Your father had no right?—”

“Chto bylo, to proshlo.”What’s past is past.Old Russian saying.

“I do not blame you, Roman.” She removes her gloves and taps them against her palm, her eyes cautious. “And I kept my distance in case my suspicions were true. I did not wish to take the risk of exposing you or your home. Not until I was certain your father and brother were not tracking my movements.”

“Spasibo, Mamma.” I tighten my grip on the towel and glance at the entryway to the chapel. Valentina is gone, but I still keep a low voice. “The situation with my wife is…delicate to say the least.”