Page 22

My sulking had turned into a quick nap as I lay in bed, exhausted from all that thinking. My mind needed some time off, and I didn't realize that I'd drifted off to sleep until now.

The gentle buzz of my phone resting on the bedside table caught my attention, pulling me out of my slumber. My eyelids fluttered open, and I felt a pang of irritation at this quiet interruption that had seeped into my little moment of peace.

I didn't want to be disturbed by anyone. All I wanted was to be by myself. Was that too much to ask?

I rubbed the remnants of sleep from my eyes and flung my hand to the bedside table, groping for my phone. The quiet hum was an indication that I'd received a text message, and just before my fingers grasped the phone, my brows narrowed in displeasure.

There was a seventy-five percent chance that the text was from my dad. Maybe he was still trying to get me to have dinner with him. I'd turned down his offer the last time he reached out and still hadn't changed my mind.

It would take some time before I'd let go of the pain of him selling me off in exchange for wealth and power. He hadn’t cared when he willingly sacrificed me to save his empire, so how come he suddenly grew a conscience?

I was almost certain that the text was from him, and no matter how much he tried to reconcile with me, I wasn't going to make things easy for him. No. He hurt me more than he could possibly know, and the pain was still fresh.

My fingers wrapped around the phone, and I squinted at the brightness of the screen, my thumb sliding down the notification bar. My brows arched, and I slowly sat up at the content of the text and the identity of the sender.

It turned out that the message wasn't from Dad; rather, it was from my least favorite person in the world.

Alexei.

This was a huge surprise. I hadn’t expected to hear from him, given that we hadn't been on talking terms all day.

The message read, “Be ready by 8 P.M. We have an event to attend.”

My brows furrowed, forming faint creases between them, as I felt a flicker of vexation at his tone. Who did he think he was texting, a thirteen-year-old? I gritted my teeth in annoyance, tossing the phone away on the bed.

I was still mad at him for his condescending attitude from last night, and he just had to fuel my rage with his arrogant dominance. Alexei had no respect for my rights whatsoever; he behaved like he was oblivious to the fact that I was human with free will and the ability to decide for myself—to make my own choices.

He hadn’t even been polite enough to ask whether I'd like to go to the event with him; he didn't bother to ask if I was feeling alright, knowing my condition. No. Alexei, as usual, only cared about what he wanted and about being respected. His message was laced with finality, meaning he was leaving me with no choice but to do as I was told.

My jaw tightened, fingers squeezing against the sheets as I seethed in silence. I didn't entirely blame him for treating me with this much condescension. It was Oscar Campbell's fault— he was to blame for all of this.

Alexei, with all his power and influence, would never have had the opportunity to treat me like a piece of property if Dad hadn't sold me to him. He didn't think that I was capable of making my own decisions because I'd succumbed to my father's bidding and sacrificed my life.

He had no respect for me as his wife, no regard for the mother of his unborn child. All he cared about was himself, his reputation, and the fear he commanded.

What a haughty, narcissistic prick!

I'd rather stay back, sulking in bed all night as I'd been doing all day, than go out with that self–absorbed, arrogant man. He knew his violent outburst had hurt my feelings, yet he had the audacity to command my presence.

Was he really that cold that he didn't realize the damage his reaction had done to me?

Was this the same man that I’d been starting to grow affection for?

I cupped my face in my palms, resisting the rising urge to at least step out.

No, I won't go out with him. Not with that tone , I reminded myself, trying to silence that voice in my head, but it wouldn't quiet.

The more I tried to shove it to the back of my mind, the more it rang loudly.

You’ve been in here all day, doing nothing. Going out would do you some good.

I covered my face with a pillow, biting into it as I struggled to come up with reasons why I should just stay home. Unfortunately, none popped into my head. The voice was right; going out and mingling with other people would help my mental state.

Besides, I could use some fresh air. Going out with him wouldn't be out of fear; rather, it would be because I prioritized my peace of mind. These thoughts had been running through my mind all day, threatening to drive me insane. I needed a break from them.

I exhaled sharply, massaging my temples. My eyes darted toward the phone laying carelessly under the sheets. I reached out for it, hit the side button, and the screen came alive. It was almost 6 P.M. I still had a couple of hours left.

A silly thought flashed in my head as though a light bulb was lit, and my lips twitched into a smirk.

Alexei Tarasov might be an arrogant devil, but he was also a man—a man who admired and had eyes for good stuff. I, on the other hand, was a woman blessed with the kind of good stuff that a man like him wouldn't be able to resist.

My smile grew more mischievous as I made up my mind to go out there and have a good time instead of wallowing in self–pity.

I got out of bed feeling refreshed, my bare feet striding across the cold marble floor while I glided over to the wardrobe. My eyes roamed here and there, a finger resting on my chin as I contemplated what to wear. I needed to look outstanding—irresistible, hot as hell.

The goal was to make him realize the beauty of the woman he treated so badly. That I was his wife didn't mean that other men wouldn't admire what they'd see when I stepped out. I wasn't sure if he was a jealous man, but I was about to find out.

I selected the sexiest and most sleek gown in my collection—in crimson red—and the finest, most expensive heels, a pair of black stilettos. Then, I strolled back to the bed. There, I dropped the heels at the base and draped the gown over the bed.

My plan to draw as much attention as I could to myself was set in motion. I'd never been the type that loved the spotlight, but this was the easiest way to get back at my husband. I needed to make him realize the kind of woman he had as a wife—the kind that turned heads wherever she went.

If things went according to plan, Alexei would try to be possessive once he realized how much attention I was receiving from other men. It'd piss him off a little, and he'd subconsciously hold me close. He'd want me again, considering we hadn't been together since our wedding night.

And then, I'd choose what to do next: give in or make him suffer. But I'd most likely go for the latter.

This thought of getting under his skin gladdened my heart, and my face lit up with a smile as I glided over to the bathroom to get all cleaned up.

I took my time when bathing, and once I was done, I stepped out with a white towel wrapped around my torso. In front of the mirror, I dried my hair, wiped my glistening skin, and creamed my body.

Strolling back to the bed, I picked up the gown and slipped into it, the soft fabric hugging me in the right places. I strapped my heels on and checked myself out in the full-length mirror, admiring the beautiful woman looking back at me.

The spaghetti-strapped, crimson-red gown had a long, sinuous slit up the side that revealed a tantalizing glimpse of my alluring thigh—not too much, but enough to tease. This should do.

I stood a few inches taller, thanks to the heels fitted perfectly on my feet, adding a touch of elegance to my overall look.

My lips curled into a smile.

Almost done.

I styled my hair in loose, effortless waves that cascaded down my back like a waterfall, with a few strategically placed strands framing my face. For my makeup, I opted for something light and natural that blended with my skin tone, enhancing my features without overpowering them.

My focus drifted to my lips, and I chose a deep, bold red shade that complemented the crimson of my gown. With a fluid and precise move, I outlined my lips with a lip liner, cautiously tracing the curve of my mouth.

Once done, I straightened, pressing my lips together, feeling the smooth, creamy texture of the lipstick. In the mirror, my eyes crinkled at the corners, my face lighting up with a beaming smile.

Now, I was ready.

I strapped my silver watch to my wrist and glanced at the time. It was already past 8 P.M. I spritzed on my signature scent, a French perfume that wrapped me in an aura of elegance and sophistication. Grabbing my purse, I headed out, my heels clicking against the floor.

From the head of the steps, I saw him standing in the living room, all dressed up in a nice black suit, his cologne enveloping the air around him. He had his back against the staircase, his attention toward the door.

Alexei's eyes dropped to his wrist as he glanced at his watch, a testament that his patience was wearing thin. Excellent.

As I descended the stairs, my movement purposely graceful and elegant, he turned around, eyes traveling across my body with slightly raised brows. Alexei's lips parted, his mouth shaped like he wanted to say something, but no words were produced. He just stood there, transfixed, eyes glued to me as I approached him.

He blinked a couple of times as if trying to get a hold of himself, but his eyes betrayed him. I could see the perfect mix of lust, admiration, and a hint of pride flickering in his gaze, a gaze he couldn't tear off me.

Alexei swallowed, tucking a hand into his pants pocket and exuding an air of confidence even though my appearance completely mesmerized him.

He could fake being in control all he wanted, but I could see right through him for the first time. I had caught his attention, and despite his attempts at masking his lust, I still saw it in his eyes.

My plan was working.

Perfect.

He cleared his throat, fingers adjusting his tie—not that it needed any adjustments anyway. “Shall we?” A small smile played on his lips as he extended a hand.

I offered a seductive grin, eyes crinkling at the corners, and my elbow gracefully slipped into his.

*****

The atmosphere was filled with the soft hum of conversations as impeccably dressed men and women lingered around the expansive space in small groups.

The rich aroma of champagne, blended with the scent of perfumes and colognes, wafted through the air, adding to the ambience.

Soft lights from the chandeliers cast a warm glow on the faces of the guests, who were chatting and laughing, cradling glasses of wine in their hands.

Waiters and waitresses, dressed in their signature black-and-white outfits, strode across the hall carrying trays of champagne and canapés.

I could feel the gazes on me as Alexei and I walked further into the hall. Heads turned in our direction, and my husband was beaming with pride. A faint grin was plastered on his face, his movements majestic, and his fingers intertwined with mine as he led me through the crowd of affluent socialites.

Maybe dressing to impress hadn’t been such a good idea because now, almost everyone was staring. It was like I was the center of attention, and I was starting to feel embarrassed.

The plan worked; I had people's attention, including my husband's, but now, the whole thing just felt awkward. However, I started this, and I was going to see it through. Alexei, on the other hand, wasn't quite jealous. No, not really. He was filled with pride, and that pride led him to introduce me to his top business associates.

At first, I was a little bit shy, but watching him proudly refer to me as his wife had a way of easing my tension. Some of his associates were mean-looking, serious-faced. Others were jovial and easygoing, but they all seemed to respect and honor the wife of Alexei Tarasov.

“Alexei, darling!” A woman, nearly as old as Alexandra, the housekeeper, approached us, her shiny dress glittering in the lights. “I'm so glad you could make it.” She halted in front of us, her warm smile contagious. Her hazel brown eyes sparkled with mirth when she looked at me. “You must be Lorena. You're even more beautiful than he described.”

My cheeks flushed at her remark, and I mirrored her smile.

“Lorena, this is Natalie Hemsworth,” Alexei said, his voice smooth, a grin spreading across his face. “She's an old associate of mine.”

My lips curved into a genuine smile as I took the woman's outstretched hand. “It's nice to meet you, Natalie.”

Her eyes simmered. “Oh, the pleasure is all mine, dear.” She chuckled, leaning closer to whisper. “It’s not every day you meet the woman who stole Alexei Tarasov's heart.”

I glanced at my husband, retaining my smile, my mind thinking about how handsome and insanely hot he looked this evening. It was obvious that we’d both dressed to impress each other, and from the looks of things, it appeared we had.

He'd caught me stealing glances at him a couple of times and vice versa, but despite his charm, I was still mad at him for hurting my feelings.

After Natalie Hemsworth greeted us and left, the rest of the evening unfolded nicely, even though Alexei and I didn't talk much, let alone address the elephant in the room. Maybe we'd have that talk later, but for now, I was glad I came out with him. Being around these people was a lot better than sulking in bed.

Just as I was starting to feel at ease, a hush fell over the room. The lights dimmed, and a spotlight shone on the stage.

My brows narrowed ever so slightly, my face a mask of confusion, as my eyes darted around, wondering what was going on.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” a smooth baritone voice boomed through the microphone, filling the room with anticipation. “It's now time for a music performance,” the announcer declared. “Please, help me welcome on stage…the Bolshoi Ballet Orchestra!”

As the crowd erupted into a round of applause, my eyes widened, brows arched in disbelief. I felt my heart sink into my belly, and my breath caught in my throat.

Did I hear correctly? I wondered, but while I questioned my hearing, the band appeared on stage with their instruments, ready to create magic.

“Oh, my God. It is them,” I muttered, heart racing with anticipation. My chest heaved slowly as I tried to curtail my excitement.

The Bolshoi Ballet Orchestra was my favorite classical music band! I'd always wanted to watch them live, but tickets were impossible to come by.

Standing here, watching them perform the legendary Tchaikovsky’s iconic pieces, starting with my personal favorite, Swan Lake , felt like a dream come true.

My eyes misted with tears of joy, excitement coursing through my blood as I felt myself getting lost in the music. My gaze was pinned on the performing orchestra, the notes washing over me.

I was so carried away by the enchanting, soul-healing music that I didn't realize I'd been squeezing Alexei's hand.

The moment I got a grip on myself, I let go immediately, taking a step away. I'd glued myself to him without even knowing. His gaze lingered, and when I looked at him, there was a self-satisfied smile playing on his lips.

My eyes narrowed, forming faint creases between my brows as I pondered the mystery behind that smile.

Did he plan this?

It would make complete sense if he had. Why else would he text me to get dressed and be ready by 8 P.M.? Plus, that mischievous glint in his eyes said it all. He was behind this.

But how did he know that I liked classical music? How did he know my favorite band?

None of that mattered, anyway. The fact remained that he’d made an attempt to make me feel better after hurting me.

This was his silent way of apologizing.

So, he did care about me.

Slowly, I felt my anger dissolve by this singular gesture. My heart melted, leaving room to accommodate the sensual thoughts running through my mind. I'd refused to let myself delve into how attractive he was tonight, but now that I was less mad at him, I found myself harboring provocative images.

His sexy gaze was starting to turn me on, and I felt a flutter in my chest, followed by a tingling sensation between my legs. Reflexively, I batted my eyelashes at him before realizing and tore my gaze away.

Even while refocusing my attention on the live band, I could still feel his stare, and it stirred up something in me—something…sexual.

With this much tension building between us, tonight might end with the two of us getting all sweaty and exhausted.

The thought of this alone sent shivers down my spine.