Page 10 of Devious Truth (Vicious Sinners #3)

“ Y ou’re not going to wear that, are you?” Maxine screws up her face as though the sight of the dress laying across my bed not only looks bad but smells bad, too.

“What? It’s a nice dress.”

I pick it up by the hanger and drape it over my body while turning to the full-sized mirror on the back of my closet door.

“Put it on, you’ll see what I mean.” Maxine sinks onto my bed, pulling a pillow into her lap and hugging it.

I roll my eyes. “Fine.”

Smoothing the skirt down a few minutes later, I step back in front of the mirror. Nothing about this image is working.

The dress was a vibrant cobalt when I purchased it years ago.

Now, it’s a dull, washed-out blue, and the fabric clings awkwardly to all the wrong places.

The neckline has stretched out from too many washes.

And the material has lost all its structure, making it boxy and shapeless. It’s more of a forgotten relic.

“You’re right. I’m supposed to be there to help raise money for the charity, not look like I am the charity.”

“You have to have something else.” She jumps from the bed and combs through my closet.

“They’re all like this one, old.” I frown at my wardrobe.

It’s been so long since I’ve needed anything other than everyday wear, I haven’t bothered to add anything to my closet other than jeans.

She keeps looking. “You can go through my closet, but my clothes are all going to be too big for you.”

“I think I still have a black dress.” I reach past her for the last hanger in the row.

I’ve only worn it once.

“Hmm. I don’t know.” She tilts her head one way then the other, inspecting the simple black dress with the long skirt and three-quarter sleeves.

“It’s not very sexy.”

“No. It’s not.” It had been a last-minute purchase when I realized I didn’t have anything black to wear.

After the funeral, I’d stripped out of it and hung it up. The day had been so horrible, filled with so much grief, I can’t remember if I even washed it before I put it away.

“Maybe that’s good though? It won’t give him the wrong impression.”

“And what’s that?” She quirks an eyebrow.

“That this is anything other than a business transaction.”

“You are the only woman in the world who can look at that man and not want to give him a reason to take the dress off.” She shakes her head.

“I’m not saying he’s not attractive; he is, but he’s?—”

“If you say he’s your boss, I’m going to smack you.

” She yanks the hanger from my grip and tosses the dress on the bed.

“If that’s the only reason you have, it’s weak.

Obviously, there’s some interest there, at least on his end, right?

I mean, you said yourself, he could have asked anyone to go with him tonight. ”

“But—”

“No more buts. You’re going out. You’re going to have a good time. But first, we need to do something to make that dress look better. Where’s your jewelry?”

“Jewelry?”

The hope falls from her face as a knock sounds from the front door of my apartment.

“He’s early?” Her eyes widen.

“No. Even he isn’t crazy enough to show up two hours early.” I laugh on my way to the front door, but secretly, in the pit of my stomach, I know he’s just that sort of crazy.

He might want to be here to pick out my clothes, or to be sure I haven’t gotten cold feet and ran away.

“Vivienne Frost?” A woman with a tightly wound bun and perfectly applied makeup smiles sweetly at me when I open the door.

“Yes, that’s me?” I lean a little to the side, noticing another woman and a young man standing behind her along with…is that a covered garment rack? And a makeup trolly? “Can I help you with something?”

Like maybe directions to whoever ordered a personal dressing service?

“Just tell us where to set up.” She gently brushes me aside, easily done given my surprise at them being here, and sweeps into the living room.

She wheels the garment cart past me, and through the sheer plastic of the covering, I lose count of the number of dresses hanging inside. The man is last to enter, carrying several jewelry boxes with him.

Just as I’m about to close the door, Lev Yakovlev enters, pushing another rack.

“Mr. Yakovlev?” Before shutting the door, I double check that none of Ivan’s other associates are going to come through.

“Holy shit, what’s all this?” Max has entered the room with Marion tucked under her arm.

“Exactly my question.” I fold my arms over my chest while trying to figure out where to aim my irritation.

“My name’s Nicolette. Ivan wanted to be sure you had everything you needed for your date tonight.” The black-haired beauty with the tight bun grins. “So, we have dresses for you to choose from, complete with shoe options and accessories. And we have makeup and hair for you too!”

The other woman, a bit shorter with wavy, shoulder-length, brown hair grins. “Hi! I’m Nelle. Depending on the dress you pick, we’ll figure out if an updo is best, or something different.”

“You’re makeup, then.” I point to the lanky man with a perpetual frown standing behind the hair woman.

“Oh no. That’s Adam. He’s my assistant. I do hair and makeup.” Nelle turns to Adam. “Checkout the bathroom situation, we may have to set up in the kitchen if it’s as cramped as I think it will be.”

“It is, but here, I’ll show you.” Max waves Adam in the direction of the bathroom. It’s just large enough for one of them to step inside.

My cheeks flame as I turn to Lev. “And you? Are you here to do my nails?”

His eyebrow raises.

Nicolette laughs, rushing to his side. “No, Oh god, I can’t imagine him even holding a nail polish bottle.”

“Nicolette is my sister. I’m only here to make sure she arrived safely.” He stalks to the window and peers down at the street below.

His positioning reminds me of Ivan being in the same spot, doing the very same thing.

“And I have, so you can go now.” Nicolette flutters over to him. “We’re fine here, and you have that guy downstairs.”

“What guy?” I push away from the wall, hurrying to the window. “Who’s downstairs?”

Two black SUVs are parked across the street from my building, sticking out amongst the beaten-down used cars lining both sides of the street. Max appears next to me a moment later.

“I know it’s not the fanciest neighborhood, but you can stop acting like we’re about to be shot.” Max spins around to face Lev. “It’s not a war zone.”

“Ivan mentioned there were gunshots the last time he was here,” Lev says to her.

“If it’s so dangerous, maybe you should take your little sister and your entourage and go.” Max’s brows furrow together as she glares up at him.

“He didn’t mean to insult you.” Nicolette shoves his arm. “Did you?”

Lev’s glaring down at Max. The space between them fills with angry silence, but I’m not exactly sure which one of them is angrier.

“Lev, tell her you’re sorry.” Nicolette nudges him again.

Lev moves his glare to his sister, which makes her roll her eyes.

“Just tell her you didn’t mean to insult her. They have a nice apartment here. You’re being rude.”

Lev’s jaw tightens as he steps closer to Max. “I’m not insulting your apartment.”

“Don’t you think the person being insulted gets to determine that?”

“Who is the man downstairs?” I ask before the vein in Lev’s neck actually bursts.

Maxine knows as well as I do that we do not live in a good neighborhood. But it’s ours, and she won’t allow anyone to make her feel less than because of where we live.

Not even the Russian mafia, apparently.

“He’s one of mine. He’ll stay out of your way. Nicolette will let me know when she’s done so I can come get her.”

“Or she can just ride back in Adam’s car,” Nicolette mutters under her breath.

“We’ll have to set up in the kitchen,” Adam announces, with impeccable timing.

“Let’s get these covers off the racks so we can get down to business.” Nicolette spins away from us and gets to work.

Lev’s jaw works beneath the thick stubble. He’s either trying to come up with some scathing remark to level Maxine with, or he’s trying not say something that will further insult her.

“I have to go. Call me when you’re done.” He turns on his booted heel and stomps out of the apartment.

“Well, wasn’t he a joy.” Max frowns.

“Sorry about him. He can be a real asshole sometimes. Especially when he’s getting all protective.” Nicolette scratches behind Marion’s ear. “You really do have a nice apartment. It’s cozy.”

I laugh. “It’s a shoebox.”

Her cheeks tint.

“Thank you though.” I touch her arm. “I assume me turning down the dresses and make up and all isn’t an option?”

Now she laughs. “I’ve only met Ivan a handful of times, but I didn’t get the impression that he’s a man who would be happy to have his gifts returned.”

“Gifts?” My throat dries.

“Yeah. I’m sorry, Lev got all rude before I could explain everything.” She stands between the two racks, one filled with dresses and the other with slacks, shirts, and jackets. “This is all yours. We only need to choose which dress for tonight. The rest are to go directly into your closet.”

“My closet.”

“Holy shit.” Max drops Marion on the couch and starts looking through the clothes. “Vee, there’s a Versace tag on this dress.”

When I turn my shock on Nicolette, she’s beaming with excitement. “That one is my favorite, but I don’t think it’s good for tonight. Too many buttons.”

“Too many buttons?” I’m speechless as she leads me over to the rack filled with designer dresses.

The second rack is more of the same, but more casual.

“For tonight, I think this one.” She pulls a one-shouldered, black, silk crepe dress from among the dozen contenders. “It will be perfect on you; you have the hips for it.”

Instinctively, I press my hands to my hips.

“It’s a hellava lot better than the black dress you were going to wear,” Max says, sidling up next to me to stare at the beautiful gown Nicolette holds out to me.

“Are those diamonds?” I lean forward to inspect the glittering jewels sewn into the sculpted, twist-cinched waist.

“Crystals.”

“Could you imagine, diamonds on a dress?” Maxine taps her elbow into mine.

“With this dress, I think simplicity is best for the jewelry. Diamonds.” Nicolette hands the dress over to me and starts digging through the jewelry cases.

“I don’t think I can do this,” I whisper.

“Oh, honey, I think we’re past the point of you being able to get out of this.” Maxine wraps one arm around my waist. “It’s dinner and some dancing. You can do that.”

“If you’re ready, let’s get started.” Nelle holds out a black robe for me. “I’m going to give you a little trim before we do your hair, and for that dress, definitely an updo.”

Marion runs between my legs, rubbing against my ankle mewling.

“Even she thinks you got this.” Maxine scoops her up into her arms. “Go on, sit down. I’m going to go through the rest of this stuff.”

“Okay.” I sink into my kitchen chair after letting Nelle shove my arms through the robe sleeves. “But don’t put anything away. I can’t accept all of this. He’s going to have to take it back.”

Nelle looks me dead in the eye with horror. “You’re going to tell Ivan Volkov to take back the entire wardrobe he had picked out for you?”

“It’s nothing personal, I’m sure it’s all great stuff, but I can’t take it from him.”

“She’s still in denial.” Max leans a hip against the counter.

“I’m not in denial.”

“You sure as hell are. You really think a guy just sends over a full wardrobe for a woman he’s not into?”

“Well, look at my clothes, Max. He probably realized I needed something to wear for tonight so I wouldn’t embarrass him.” I lean my head back as Nelle gets to work brushing out the day’s tangles.

“You’re right. She’s deep in denial.” Nell laughs.

My phone beeps from the coffee table, and then it goes off again.

“Can you hand that to me?” I hold out my hand for Max. “It’s probably Caroline, she’s stuck at work tonight.”

As my eyes sweep over the text message that came through, my stomach sours.

“What’s wrong? She doesn’t want you to take her shift, does she?” Max puts her hands on her hips.

“No. It’s nothing.” I turn off the ringer and slide it onto the table beside me.

“Well, ladies, and Adam…we have exactly one hour before Ivan knocks on that door.” Nicolette stands in front of me with a hopeful grin.

“One hour?” Nausea rolls through me. “That’s it? An hour?”

“You got this.” Max pats my knee. “It’s just dinner and dancing.”

She keeps saying that, but she doesn’t understand. It’s not just dinner and dancing. It’s dinner and dancing with Ivan Volkov.

And then the rest of the night.

My phone dances on the table as two more messages come through.

“You need to get that?” Nelle stops her work.

“No.” I close my eyes and take a deep breath.

Hold for five seconds.

I’m safe.

Blow out for five.

But the words of the text light up in neon over and over in my mind while Max, Nelle, and Nicolette work on chiseling off my ordinary life and replacing it with something straight out of a fairytale.

Need another favor.