Page 27

W e’ve been shopping for hours. My feet throb inside my brand-new pair of black Gucci Horsebit loafers. After spending an afternoon shopping with Elana, I stopped asking how much things cost. She would just shrug and tell me to hand over Alexander’s card.

I’d let Elana talk me into changing into the dark-olive straight-legged trousers and ivory silk blouse I found at the last store we were at. I’d wanted to keep my ballet flats on, but I lost that battle—just like every other battle waged today.

She hadn’t even fought me; she’d just picked them up, carried them to the saleslady, and asked her to get rid of them.

Elana can say whatever she wants, but she is every bit a Volkov.

“I’m starving,” Elana announces as she hands over the last of the bags to Artem, our guard and chauffeur for the afternoon. “We’re going to walk over to Cafe Spiaggia, Artem. Come join us?”

He looks down the street. “Why don’t you get in the car, and I’ll drive you there, then we can all walk into the restaurant,” he says while stashing the bags into the back of the SUV.

“It’s half a block,” Elana protests. “I’ll get us a table for three.”

He eyes us for a moment, already sensing he’s lost. It’s Elana after all.

“I’ll get a seat at the bar.”

“Your choice!” Elana laughs and loops her arm through mine. “Let’s go before he changes his mind and throws us in the car.”

The street is bustling with people as we make our way across the intersection. Feeling eyes on me, I look over my shoulder and find Artem watching us from the curb.

“He’s still there.” I tug on Elana’s arm.

She sighs. “He’ll probably wait until we’re inside the restaurant. The only reason he even let us get this far out of reach is because my brothers promised me they wouldn’t keep a bodyguard on me.”

Once inside the restaurant, we’re seated at a table with a small porcelain vase with a single flower.

“Good afternoon, ladies.” Our waitress pops up as soon as I have my purse hooked on my chair. Elana rattles off an order before I can even ask for a menu.

“Thanks.” Elana smiles at the young woman who hasn’t written anything down as she walks away.

“What was all that you just ordered?” I would have been fine with a Caesar salad, but it sounded like she ordered a several-course meal.

“Oh, not much. Burrata for an app, then black truffle risotto, spaghetti with clams, and Tagliatelle alla Bolognese. We’ll just put it all out and share. The food here is amazing.”

“It sounds like it,” I say.

The waitress comes back with two glasses of white wine and disappears again. As I watch her walk away, I find Artem walking in from the back of the restaurant. He takes a seat at the bar where he can see us clearly.

“Artem’s here.” I take a small sip of the most delicious wine I’ve ever tasted.

She’s on her phone, tapping away and scrolling. Her brows pull tight, and her thumbs fly over the screen.

“Everything okay?” I touch her arm to get her attention.

“What? Yeah.” She tries to force a smile, but I know the look.

“Arguing with a boy?” I tease. I want to look at her screen, but I manage to fight off my nosiness.

“No.” But she says it with way too much force. “I mean, he’s not a boy.”

I grin. “Older?”

“Than me? Yes.” She looks down at the screen as another message comes through. “He’s just being stubborn right now. I need to call him. I’ll be right back, promise.”

“Of course.” I lift my glass while she wiggles her way through the tables to the front of the restaurant. Artem watches her with narrowed eyes but stays perched on his stool.

She must feel his eyes on her because she stays in front of the restaurant window where he can still see her. If she strayed, I’m sure he’d jump off his stool and go after her.

Maybe he would like to be out there with her now, but he’s stuck inside because that’s where I am. If Alexander really did promise Elana he wouldn’t have a bodyguard on her at all times, that means Artem is here because of me.

His jaw is tight, and his eyes are so focused on the window I’m half expecting lasers to shoot out of his eyes at the glass. When his features finally soften, I know Elana has come back inside.

I wonder if she knows Artem has feelings for her.

“Sorry about that.” Elana sits back down and puts her phone in her purse. “No more phone, promise.”

“Do your brothers know you have a boyfriend?” I keep my voice down to be sure Artem doesn’t hear us. Not only because it might upset him, but because he’ll tell on her in a heartbeat.

“No.” She sighs. “And you have to swear on your life that you will not tell them.” She grabs my hand, squeezing it tight. “Please. Promise me, Megan.”

I cover her hand with mine. “All right. I won’t say anything.” I pause a moment. “Do you think they’d be mad or something?”

She chuckles. “Oh, they’d be pissed as hell.”

“Because they’re so overprotective of you?”

“They just wouldn’t understand, that’s all.” The Burrata shows up and she digs right into the cheese.

“You know, you’re twenty-one. You’re allowed to have a boyfriend if you want one.” I spread the cheese over the toasted bread and slide a piece of roasted pepper on top.

Now this is how you do a snack.

“It’s complicated,” she says. “It’s not so much that I have one, it’s who he is. They wouldn’t like him.”

“Why? Is he like really old?”

She laughs. “No. He’s only twenty-six. Not like you and Alexander. A twelve-year difference is a lot.”

“It’s not so much,” I say and pop in the last bite of the toast.

“He’s going to be forty before you’re thirty. And even if you have a baby right away, he’ll be almost sixty when it graduates high school,” she points out with a teasing smile.

I know she’s joking, just some playful banter. But she’s right. He is twelve years older. And I’m not sure I want a baby right away.

Putting my hand over my stomach, I swallow hard. I could be pregnant right now.

“Oh, shit.” She reaches over the table and grabs my arm. “I’m sorry, Megan. I was only joking. He’s a young thirty-seven-year-old. Hell, I don’t think he can even get old; he’s too stubborn.”

I force a smile, but my stomach is rolling over in a fabulous tornado fashion.

“I scared you.”

“No.” I shake my head. “I just hadn’t thought about it. Everything has happened so fast, and I haven’t even really decided if I want to stay married to Alexander after all this mess is over with.”

She laughs but covers it by clearing her throat when I shoot my gaze up to her.

“Sorry. It’s just… you know Alexander is never going to let you leave him, right?” She leans closer to me. “You’re married. There is no divorce option.”

“But… his mother left his father, right? She’s in Russia?”

“Yeah.” Elana nods. “But they were still married. Our father didn’t love her, and he still wouldn’t let her divorce him. He let her go to Russia, but she was never free from him. Not until he died.”

I take another bite, giving myself a moment to think.

“If he wanted other women, why wouldn’t he?”

“Because our father was an evil prick,” she says with such severity it shakes my soul.

The rest of the food arrives, and Elana arranges the dishes on the table and two fresh plates are settled in front of us.

“So if I want out, Alexander will just send me away?” I watch her plate herself some of the pasta dishes.

“Alexander? No.” She takes my plate and fills it with more food I can even think of eating now with my stomach rolling around like it is.

“Why?”

“Because, Megan.” She puts the plate in front of me. “My brother is in love with you. He would sooner lock you back up in that tower room than let you leave him.”

My eyes go wide, and she laughs.

“Just because I don’t live there most of the time doesn’t mean I don’t know what goes on.”

“But—”

She grabs my arm and squeezes.

“It’s okay. He’s a lot. I know.” She rolls her eyes. “But he wouldn’t marry you if he didn’t love you. Even if he’s too stubborn and stupid to admit it. Maybe he doesn’t even know yet. I mean, you’re taking your sweet-ass time realizing it, too.”

“Realizing what? That he likes me?”

She shakes her head while chewing her pasta.

“Nooo,” she says after swallowing. “Not likes you, loves you. And you haven’t realized you love him back. But you do. I can see it when you look at him, even when you’re pissed. And I know my brother.”

Love him?

The background noise of chatter and forks clanking against plates blends into a soundless blur, making my heartbeat the only sound registering in my mind. I sit back in my chair.

Can he have feelings for me?

“You okay?” Elana asks, swiping her napkin across her lips.

“Yeah.” I nod, but I’m not. I’m so far away from okay I can’t even see okay. “I just need to pee.”

I get up from the table so fast my chair almost topples over. The gentleman behind me grabs it before it does and straightens it for me.

After muttering an apology, I search for the restroom sign.

“That way. Just to the left of the bar.” Elana takes pity on me and directs me.

Artem is talking with someone when I pass him, but his eyes catch mine. I give him a little shake of my head when he looks ready to bound to his feet, then I hurry to the bathroom.

The bathroom is more luxurious than I’ve ever seen. This isn’t even that upscale of a restaurant. They don’t even serve dinner here.

I’m so out of my element.

And not just at this restaurant.

All of this is normal to Alexander. It’s second nature for him to have the best clothes, eat the finest foods, have a fucking tower in his mansion for his enemies.

I stare at myself in the mirror at the Alexander McQueen silk blouse and the Andrea Lieberman trousers I’m wearing. I have never in my life owned designer anything, and now everything I’m wearing has a label.

This isn’t me.

Friday night pizza and bad movies with Mira on the couch, drinking whatever wine was on sale at the grocery store—that’s me.

It’s all right.

I can’t panic.

After we deal with this Dexter Thompson problem, I’ll just have a very calm, very stern, very real conversation with Alexander.

I just need to figure out what conversation it will be.

Taking a few deep breaths and fighting off two more panic attacks, I roll my shoulders back and throw open the door to the restroom. Everything will work out.

Everything is going to be fine.

“Megan Reed? Is that you, dear?” A soft voice pulls me to the left.

I turn, but something thick and rancid smelling is thrown over my head. Before I can lash out, there’s a sharp poke in my arm.

Everything’s heavy.

And then everything goes black.