How to rule a king

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Alexei:

My eyes must have fallen out of their sockets the moment I saw my wife making her way through a crowd of rather sultry dressed dancing girls, while her small right hand was linked with a left one belonging to the towering form of her best friend Eliza.

What is she doing here? And what the actual FUCK is she wearing?

After we had waved goodbye to Natalia when we had reached Nice a day ago, we had finally arrived in Marrakech this morning. Ronja had still been fast asleep on top of me when I had woken up due to the sudden stop of movement of the ship. I had just convinced myself to let her sleep in instead of having a heavy make out scene, which she probably still hadn't been ready for. I had just decided on getting out of bed and leaving a message informing her of my whereabouts when Vasyli had rushed through the door waking her up as he jumped onto the bed bouncing up and down on top of it. I had already opened my mouth ready to scold him when Ronja had placed her hand on top of my bare chest, urging the ever brooding storm inside me to calm down as she had gathered my son in her tiny arms to cuddle the child against her chest while she moved her back against my front as we all lay in bed together. I surely hadn't planned on participating in any cuddling, yet Ronja must have sensed my hesitation as her hand had gripped onto my arm before she practically forced me to hug them both from behind. So it came that I, Alexei Volkov, had been running late for an important business meeting as I had been occupied with cuddling my family.

If Piotr gets wind of this, he'll never let me hear the end of it.

I had been so sure they would be fine and would stay well behaved without me watching over them for a few hours as I had left them (and a huge amount of food) on top of the dark, king-sized bed watching some stupid animated movie before heading for the meeting with an informant. An informant who had told me everything I wanted to know just after me asking him very nicely. Well, at first he might have not been so pleased to wake up chained to a metal chair in an empty, dirty warehouse, which smelled of a combination of piss and puke. He might have been even less happy, when he connected my beautiful face to my rather fearsome (and even more beautiful) name. If I was honest with myself, I had to admit that at this point he had been screaming promises of his unawareness of the bombing, which had gone down only two days ago. Maybe I would have believed the poor fellow's crocodile tears if it hadn't been for Piotr dragging his unconscious body out of debris one day earlier. Of course, he had tried the whole "I was just a guest" number on me, but then again, I knew who I had invited to a private birthday party. It had after all been my birthday that had been celebrated.

Anyways, after a while, I had grown tired and rather hungry from all the trash coming from his ugly mouth. Even though Piotr kept introducing the poor man's head to his fist he had still not been ready to give us anything of value. Yet, once I had decided I wanted to end this charade, he had been willing to talk quite quickly. All it had taken had been a bullet to his left kneecap and a freshly loaded gun tightly pressed against his, let me tell you this, rather small dick and soon he was talking faster than Quicksilver had ever run. Well, at least until I had grown tired of his squeaky mouse-like voice and had put a bullet through his ugly face and useless brain.

When I had finally left the malodorous warehouse, the sun had started to set again. This prick had wasted hours of my precious time. Well, maybe not wasted, after all I had gotten the information I required. Still, it had been hours. Hours I could have spent with my wife and son. Cuddling. I desperately had needed a drink after having a rather unfulfilling day. Somehow with one thing leading to the other I had ended up calling TT, of whom I knew he had flown not only himself but also Eliza to Marrakech the night after my wedding to celebrate one big party for the next two weeks.