The Score (23 page)

“Spousal privilege—”

“Mr. Lavrov is correct,” the judge interrupted, blinking down at Viviana from his spot above her. Understanding had dawned on the man’s features, and he almost seemed like he didn’t believe it. “I understand your frustration, Mr. Penny, but she is not required to give information on that aspect unless you can open her to the topic of the Belovs and their affiliation with her husband.”

“What about her affiliation to them? Or did that suddenly change, also?”

The judge shot the A.D.A with a look that would burn. “Are you being smart with me?”

“No, I’m just—”

“Ask about
her
affiliation, or move on.”

Frustrated, the A.D.A turned back on Viviana. “Were you friends with the Belovs, Mrs. Avdonin?”

“I wouldn’t call us that,” she muttered. “Tatiana Belov wasn’t fond of my husband’s affections for me.”

“She was jealous?”

“She never told me that.”

“But you two were seen having an argument on the night of your husband’s birthday?”

“Yes,” Viviana replied. “She made it clear she thought I wasn’t the right kind of woman for Anton, and I made it clear her opinion wasn’t needed.”

“Did you dislike Tatiana Belov or her father?”

“I didn’t know her father well, but I wasn’t particularly fond of her, no.”

“Why?” the A.D.A asked.

“You could say we were raised with different values,” Viviana said, shrugging.

“The night of the fire that killed the Belovs, where was your husband?”

Viviana repeated the spousal privilege, but it seemed the man expected that.

“Where were you, Mrs. Avdonin?”

Viviana met Anton’s gaze from across the room and he knew without a doubt she could see every ounce of worry and pain swimming through his veins with just a glance. Not once did she have to lie, so far, but that one question brought his wife into very dangerous territory.

“With my husband,” Viviana answered, not taking her eyes off Anton.

“Where with your husband?”

Anton’s relief at the wrongly phrased question was earth-shattering. Viviana opened herself up to questioning on the Belovs, if the A.D.A hadn’t been so damned frustrated not to realize it. Instead of pointing it out and asking her where her husband was, he asked where she was with him.

Sweet fucking relief.

Ivan’s hand was suddenly clenching so freaking hard on Anton’s wrist to keep him seated in his chair, that Anton didn’t even realize it until he felt his bones creak from the pressure.

“Told you,” Ivan whispered.

“You’re a fucking asshole,” Anton mumbled back.

“A fucking asshole who probably just won this case.”

“Viviana, please answer my question.”

With a single slant of her head, Viviana dismissed the man’s probing. “I plead the fifth.”

There was silence, and then there was more arguing. This time, Ivan didn’t need to say a word. Viviana had every right to keep the A.D.A from questioning her on a topic that very well might incriminate herself in a crime, even one she had unwillingly participated in or knew about. Beyond that, if he couldn’t ask about her, he couldn’t get her to talk about Anton’s involvement.

It was in no way an admittance of guilt for Viviana, or of Anton’s, and by law, it couldn’t be seen that way.

“Jesus Christ,” Anton breathed.

Ivan nodded, tightening his grip on his friend’s wrist again. “He’s almost done, man.”

Agitation covered the A.D.A’s features as he moved back to his table, sitting down with a glare. “You talked about your son, Mrs. Avdonin, can I ask you a question on that, or will you find a way around it, too?”

“Objection!”

“Withdrawn.”

“Ask,” Viviana said, unbothered.

“It’s been months since your son has seen his father, correct?”

“Two, actually. I brought my son to visit his father on the first day of the proceedings, but I haven’t felt comfortable exposing him to this again.”

“That must hurt him and his father,” the man observed.

For the first time, an honest show of emotions flitted over Viviana’s face by way of tears that shined in her eyes. “It does, but I won’t confuse my child.”

“You mean to say you don’t want him to hear the truth. That his father is a murderer.”

“I mean, the man you claim my husband to be is not the man Demyan knows. I will not have you, or anyone else, tarnish my son’s love for his father. And that love—it’s beautiful.”

The A.D.A stopped his questioning.

Chapter Nineteen

“Fucking fantastic, Vine,” Ivan said, holding her face between his hands. “You did absolutely perfect.”

Viviana nodded, but she still felt weary and unsure. Being up on the witness stand was far more nerve-wracking than she thought it would be. Being under the prosecution’s constant stream of questions, not knowing where the man was going to take it next, was horrifying.

Then, there were the eyes. God, so many fucking eyes watching, judging …

“Everyone was looking at me,” she whispered.

Viviana didn’t realize it until Ivan began rubbing his hands up and down her arms, but she was shaking.

“And what was that shit he tried to pull about Demyan at the end, anyway?”

Ivan sighed. “Probably just a cheap shot at Anton. If you won’t let your son see his father, then how must you really feel about Anton’s actions? That kind of thing.”

“Did I give the right answer back?”

“You did it all perfectly,” Ivan repeated.

“Mr. Lavrov, one minute until the recess is over,” a guard informed from the side.

Viviana flinched at the idea of going back inside the courtroom.

After her testimony, Ivan must have seen the anxiety that built up in Viviana because he asked for a five minute break to consult with his witness before closing statements began. The judge easily agreed, seemingly tired and finished with the trial himself.

“It’s almost over,” Ivan told Viviana quietly. “Don’t let Anton see you nervous or worked up, Vine. Especially at this point. He’s done incredibly well going on your lead alone. If he sees you’re stressed out, it won’t be good. It gets him anxious and I won’t be sitting beside him while I do my closing statement to reign him back in.”

Bleakly, all Viviana could do was nod.

“Ready to get this over with?”

“Yes,” Viviana said. More than ever, she wanted to say.

“Then let’s finish it.”

Closing statements were a two hour long process that simply recapped the entire trial in a short amount of time and with less words. Viviana sat behind Anton in silence, keeping her eyes drawn down to her stomach where her hand rested, feeling the movement of the baby. It helped to keep her calm.

The prosecution side focused on the thing they had and knew. The witnesses at the hospital the night Sonny was killed who were adamant Anton wasn’t in Viviana’s room until the next day. The thirty-five percent DNA match on the cigarette butts at the Carducci crime scene. The witnesses who put Anton near the Belov crime scene, his affiliation with the owner of the ruined restaurant, and so on. They also focused on the obvious, public strife between Anton and the victims.

Ivan, however, focused in on the reasonable doubt. He was quiet and sure as he talked about the things the prosecution hadn’t proven, the evidence they didn’t have to show. Like the prosecution, he named his own witnesses, the ones who put shadows on the prosecution’s witnesses’ testimonies. His mannerisms and voice stayed confident as he recapped his own case, having never changed direction once in the entire trial.

By the law’s standard of reasonable doubt, he stated, Anton was owed freedom.

It was as simple as that.

But was it, really?

Even with all Viviana and Ivan did, blackmailing the judge and getting rid of Natalie, was it enough? The fact of the matter was simple, no one knew. The judge could just as easily give a guilty verdict and take the chance of the photos going public. It would likely result in Anton getting a new trial, and possibly even being released for a short time. That would be the best outcome, next to a not guilty verdict. If Anton was able to get released, Viviana was going to get him the fuck out of the country in a heartbeat.

“Vine?” Ivan asked, pulling gently on her elbow to get her attention.

“Let’s go.”

***

Anton’s mouth ghosted along Viviana’s knuckles, touching down on each and every one to lay a tender kiss. After the closing statements were finished, the judge took to his chambers to deliberate. There was still an hour or so left in the day, so Viviana had a short while with her husband in the defence chambers before Anton was taken back to the prison.

“What were you thinking?”

“I was thinking I was a good distraction, and an opinion people wanted to hear,” she answered.

“They’re going to investigate you, now,” he pointed out.

“Let them. They’ll find nothing, Anton.”

“Still fucking crazy.”

“It worked,” Viviana said. “You know it did. Are you angry with me?”

“Proud,” he murmured. “Worried. Never angry.”

But he would be, she knew. He would be so very angry with her.

Viviana made the decision weeks ago to tell her husband the truth about the judge situation and the blackmail that followed. Even if the judge found him guilty, Anton would eventually find out. She wanted to be the one to tell him, not Ivan, or anyone else.

She just couldn’t do it yet.

“How’s my baby?” Anton asked softly.

With one hand, he reached between their chairs to feel the hard swell of her midsection. Despite the baby’s activeness in the courtroom earlier, it was now quiet and unmoving. Anton had yet to feel the child’s kicks and movements. It broke Viviana’s heart knowing how badly he wanted to, and all that he was missing.

Like finding out the gender of the baby … She still hadn’t told him that, yet, either.

She did bring the little black and white photos of the baby’s ultrasound pictures for him to see, though. From the pictures of the feet, to the curvature of the baby’s spine, he’d been so enamoured with the tiny little pictures. At her next appointment, she remembered to record the sound of the heartbeat for him to hear.

“Good. Heartbeat is still strong. Everything looked good on the ultrasound, like I said.”

Anton smiled, sweeping his thumb back and forth. “A new year’s baby. Do you think you’ll make it that long?”

The baby was due on the first of January, but that was only an estimation given Viviana didn’t know the day she conceived and didn’t have a last period to go on.

“We’ll see. Probably not, though.”

“Is two enough, baby?” Anton asked, cocking a brow at her. “Or is it awful I’m already thinking about the other bedroom that’s still empty?”

Did Viviana want more children? “Slow down, Anton.”

Anton sat back in his chair, tension writing lines over his strong features.

“What’s wrong?” Viviana asked.

“It’s almost over,” he replied. “And it doesn’t feel like it.”

“Doesn’t it?”

Anton shook his head. “Not to me. I don’t know why.”

Viviana’s guilt pounded away at her insides. “Everything is going to be okay.”

“You keep saying that.”

“And I mean it.”

It would be another four days before the judge came back with his verdict.

***

Not guilty.

Not guilty. Not guilty. Not guilty.

Not …

Guilty …

Viviana’s hand was secured tightly in her husband’s, just as it had been when the judge slid his verdict across his desk with a frown. The courtroom had exploded in noise from every side. The judge smacked his gravel over and over until the people settled down enough for him to speak.

Viviana still wasn’t sure Anton believed it as she pulled him through the crowd outside, ignoring the reporters, the cameras taking their pictures. Behind them, she could hear Anton’s lawyer making a statement, and the A.D.A arguing from the steps that regardless of double jeopardy, this wasn’t the end of everything.

Ivan had made it clear to her when they got word that the verdict was in what she needed to do. Get him out of that courthouse, he’d said. Take him somewhere quiet. Let him breathe, Vine.

She could understand why, now.

Anton was deadly silent behind her. Whether it was from shock, or confusion, he was too quiet. He’d not said a word. Not when the judge told the prosecution their case had lacked real depth, or the evidence required to put a man behind bars for the rest of his natural life. Not even when the judge then went on to say he believed Anton’s guilt was likely, but he didn’t have the proof to say it for sure. And certainly not when the judge wished Anton good luck, and granted his freedom.

Nothing.

Not a word.

“Vine …” Anton started to say behind her.

Painful. Oh, Jesus, he sounded like he was in pain.

“Just a minute, babe. We’re almost gone,” she told him, squeezing his hand.

“Okay.”

Down the steps they went, eyes following their every movement. She took him across the parking lot to the car he adored so fucking much. Viviana decided on the Bugatti for two reasons. It was the only show of wealth she allowed in the entire trial. They had been very careful not to appear overindulged, or dripping in money to the public. And for two, Anton loved that car.

Fast with an engine that roared like a thousand hooves of horses beating to the ground, and memories of a sweeter time, it was exactly what Anton would need. Something to get them gone, to get him out of his head.

Viviana turned and pressed the keys into his palm. “Drive.”

Anton blinked. “Drive?”

“Wherever you want to go. As fast as you need. Drive.”

“I want to go home,” he told her, his brow furrowing. “Our son … My mom …”

“Okay, then home it is. But you get to drive.”

Viviana didn’t think she’d be able to, what with her hands trembling like they were.

Despite claiming he wanted to go home, the moment an exit for the highway came into view, Anton changed lanes and took it. In seconds, the Bugatti was shifting from one gear, and then slamming into the next. Over and over, they swerved in and around other cars to pass them at a rate of speed that pushed Viviana back into her seat from the force.

She wasn’t afraid, though.

“Jesus,” Anton growled.

“Talk to me,” Viviana said from the side, barely glancing over at her husband.

Clipped and short, Anton’s words strained to get back his clenched teeth. “I thought … just, wasn’t sure.”

“You thought you’d be going back,” she assumed.

Anton nodded, his grip on the steering wheel tightening to a white-knuckled grasp. The hand on the stick shift slipped it into the last gear without even hesitating and the car lurched forward, moving faster. Without a word, he turned on the car stereo. The CD they hadn’t taken out from the last time they drove the car starting blasting through the speakers, pumping bass into the floor.

“I told you it would be okay, Anton.”

“Not everything is black and white,” he replied.

“Ivan and me, we handled it,” she tried to explain. “I’ll tell you everything. I wasn’t going to let you—”

Anton slammed an open palm to the steering wheel, cursing severely under his breath. “Shut up, Vine.”

Hurt and surprised, she asked, “What?”

“I don’t want to know. Okay? Just shut up, and don’t tell me whatever you think you need to tell me. My wife doesn’t get herself involved in business. She doesn’t put herself under the scrutiny of investigators. She doesn’t keep things from me, like the fact that she was going to be a witness in my trial!”

Anton didn’t even know what Viviana did and already he was pissed off.

“What in the fuck were you thinking? The Italians are going to be in a fit over your statements. I’ll be smoothing that shit over for years!”

“Anton, relax.”

“Vine, I said—”

“It wasn’t business. It was
you
. You’re not business to me. And I spoke to Conrad. It’s fine.”

Anton’s head whipped in her direction, his eyes blazing. “You spoke to the Italians without me?”

“Erik and Ivan went with me, and Aunt Lucy was there. It wasn’t an official thing, Anton.”

“Like that fucking matters!”

All right, Viviana had taken just about enough of his yelling.

“Stop it. Stop shouting at me. You couldn’t do anything behind bars, so I handled it. I’m fucking capable of having a meeting with Conrad and my aunt without setting off a war inside the city. In fact, I did. No one was killed over a short dinner. The trial is over. We’re fine.”

Anton snorted. “You have no idea.”

“No, Anton, you don’t.”

“I …”

Anton clamped his mouth shut and glared out the windshield. This was not how Viviana expected their first conversation to go outside of the confines of the court. Anton should have been relieved and thankful for his freedom. Instead, he was frustrated and snapping out at the closest person he could. Unfortunately, that just happened to be his wife.

“You’re still stuck in your head. Thinking when you turn around, you’re going to have to go back. Aren’t you?”

“God, I just don’t understand,” Anton whispered. “He said it. I might as well be guilty for it, they just didn’t prove it. Was it really that fucking simple after four months in hell?”