Page 12

O livia

P iotr is being a lot nicer to me than I expected him to be.

In fact, I would describe the way he’s acting as sweet.

He’s been super-attentive and now and then he whispers a compliment in my ear.

It’s mainly about how I’m being a good girl.

That should raise my hackles, since I’m desperate to assert my independence, but I kind of like his praise.

Has he unlocked a kink I didn’t know I had?

As we mingle with our guests, he keeps an arm wrapped around my waist, giving me the occasional encouraging squeeze when he realizes I’m close to being overwhelmed by the relentless exchange of pleasantries.

I don’t know how he reads my discomfort so easily.

I’ve been trained from a young age to project a confidence I don’t always feel, yet he sees right through the facade.

When we sit down to enjoy our celebratory meal featuring an array of Italian and Russian dishes, Piotr makes sure I have enough to eat and drink.

He limits me to a single glass of Prosecco, but I won’t hold that against him.

Keeping a clear head for tonight is a good idea.

I don’t want to be drunk when Piotr and I are finally alone.

Losing my virginity holds a certain amount of dread for me, but I want to be lucid when it happens.

By the time Piotr takes my hand and leads me onto the dance floor in front of our many guests, I can’t help wondering if he’s putting on an act.

Perhaps he’s trying to project the image of the perfect son-in-law to keep my mother happy.

After all, she’s marrying Piotr’s uncle soon, and any apparent discord between me and my husband might cause issues for them.

“Are you having a good time, malyskha ?” Piotr asks.

“Yes.” I’m surprised to find I mean it. I hadn’t looked forward to this wedding, but I am enjoying myself. “Are you?”

“I am, but I’m afraid we must leave soon. We have a plane to catch.”

Though Piotr sent me a message via Antonio telling me to have a bag packed, he didn’t tell me where he intends to take me. I know little about his plans for our future. In fact, I haven’t got a clue where we’ll live. Piotr has an apartment in New York, but he also has properties in Europe.

“Where are we going?”

“To Paris, for a couple of days.”

“Paris?” I can’t hold in a squeal of delight. Should I read anything into him taking me to one of the most romantic cities in the world? Does it mean I’m more than a business acquisition to him? I won’t get my hopes up.

“Yes.” His lips twitch in response to my obvious delight. “Have you been?”

“Once, but that was years ago.”

I don’t remember a lot about that trip, except that I was disappointed my father didn’t make time to take us to the Louvre or the Musée d’Orsay, both of which were on my wish list. We saw the Eiffel Tower and the Arc de Triomphe, but only in passing.

Mainly, we were there to be shown off at dinners with my father’s business associates.

His apparently perfect family was a symbol of his stability and trustworthiness.

My mother took me to Notre Dame and the Sacre Coeur, but churches have never interested me, no matter how impressive the architecture.

I did like the chaos of the Montmartre, though.

“You’ll enjoy it,” Piotr says. “Lots of boutiques to spend my money in.”

That rubs me the wrong way. His money? Does he intend to grant me an allowance? What conditions will I have to meet to receive his beneficence?

“I have my own money.” Antonio allowed me access to the inheritance my father left me as soon as I turned eighteen, but still met all my expenses, so I have a decent sum squirreled away.

“You’d have more fun spending mine.”

“It depends on what strings are attached.”

“No strings. My wife needs to uphold a certain image. You’ll have access to a bank account and credit card.”

“Okay, but I don’t just want to shop in Paris. There are museums and galleries I’d love to see.” I don’t want my new husband thinking shopping is all I’m interested in just because I happen to be good at it. “And I’d like to do a boat trip on the Seine and have a picnic in the park.”

“Well, we’ll be there for a few days, so I’m sure you can do all that.”

I can ? My heart sinks. “Won’t you be coming with me?”

Piotr shakes his head. “I have business in Paris, but don’t worry, I will make some time to enjoy my new bride.”

“Oh, will you?” The nerve of this asshole. “Lucky me.”

Piotr shows no response to my irritation.

As the music slows, he brings us to a stop and performs a courtly bow.

The guests gathered around the dance floor break into raucous applause.

If Piotr’s trying to sell the image of a golden couple, I guess they bought it.

He takes my hand and leads me toward our table.

We’re halfway there when we’re met by his uncle and my mother.

Both are grinning broadly. I guess they’re sold on the fairytale too.

“Mamma,” I acknowledge her as she pulls me in for a hug.

“You look so good together.” There are tears in her eyes as she releases me and enfolds Piotr in an embrace I’m sure he doesn’t want. “Don’t they, Boris?”

“Yes, the perfect couple.” His accent is more heavily tinged with Russian than Piotr’s.

It occurs to me I know nothing of my new husband’s background.

Did he grow up here? He mostly sounds like any other New Yorker, though he throws in the occasional word from his mother tongue. “I believe you need to leave soon.”

“We do.” Piotr checks the platinum watch on his wrist as he untangles himself from my mother. “Imminently, in fact.”

Boris nods. “Then I will make the announcement.”

“What announcement?” I ask as Boris puts his arm around my mother’s waist and steers her toward the stage.

Rather than answering, Piotr shushes me. It’s so patronizing I want to punch him in the face. I don’t, of course. First, I don’t believe in violence and second, it wouldn’t make an auspicious start to our union if I got his blood on my beautiful dress.

The band abruptly stops playing as Boris grabs a microphone. He calls a waiter with a tray of drinks over to him and takes two glasses of Prosecco, handing one to my mother.

“My dear friends,” he addresses the crowd.

It’s a testament to his power that everyone stops what they’re doing to focus on him.

“As most of you know, I’m about to embark on a new chapter in my life, with this beautiful woman by my side.

” He smiles down at my mother, who’s gazing at him as she always does, like a love-struck teenager.

I don’t begrudge her the happiness she’s found with him.

She adored my father, and he loved her, but he didn’t pay her the attention she deserved.

Boris does, and I’m grateful to him for that.

“And so I’ve decided that today, on the occasion of my nephew’s marriage, that the time has come for me to step aside.

Piotr, I hand all of my power and responsibility to you. ” He raises his glass. “ Za bratva .”

I only know a handful of Russian words, but I’m guessing that was some sort of toast to their brotherhood.

I glance at Piotr and find his expression steadfastly neutral as he inclines his head in acknowledgment of the great honor he’s been given.

He appears entirely unfazed, but I’m stunned.

My stomach churns and my head spins. I feel as if I’m going to throw up.

This is a monumental change and I’m not sure I’m ready for it.

Though I knew it was only a matter of time before Piotr became leader of the Reznov Bratva, I didn’t think it would happen so soon.

I hoped we’d find our feet as a married couple first. But Piotr is now king, and I guess that makes me his queen. Fuck! I am not ready for this.

As people flock to us to congratulate Piotr on his elevation and ingratiate themselves with the new Pakhan, I spot Alessia sitting alone at a table at the back of the room. She’s staring into space, running a finger around the rim of her glass. Even from here, I can sense her unhappiness.

“Please excuse me,” I tell Piotr. “I need a quick word with my cousin.”

“Very well, but make it quick. We leave in five minutes.”

“Of course.”

Nodding in response to remarks from the wedding guests about how wonderful it is that Piotr’s taking over for his uncle and how excited I must be, I make my way through the crowd to Alessia. She looks utterly miserable, but when she sees me, she sits up straighter and smiles.

“Well, Mrs. Pakhan.” She grins broadly. “Aren’t you going up in the world?”

“I guess.” I take the seat next to her. “You seem upset. Did one of my brothers do something?”

I didn’t see any of them speaking to her, but it’s a fair bet one of the assholes is behind her low mood.

Alessia sighs heavily, which I take as confirmation. “It’s nothing, Liv. I don’t want to spoil your day.”

“It’ll be spoiled if I spend it worrying about you.”

“Really, it’s nothing.”

“Okay, then I’ll ask Antonio if he knows who upset you.”

As I rise from my seat, Alessia grabs my arm and pulls me back down.

“It’s not a big deal. I just won’t be working for Antonio, that’s all.”

“He told you that?” I ask, and she nods. “I’m sorry, Less. He’s such a prick. Did he give you a reason?”

“None I wanted to hear.” Alessia takes a large gulp of wine and sets her glass down. “Enough about me. How are you enjoying your big day?”

“It’s more fun than I thought it would be.”

“I can’t believe you pulled this off in a week.”

“You know how it is. Money talks.” I shake my head in disbelief. “I’m still amazed we got an ice sculpture in time.”

Alessia laughs. “It’s really fucking tacky. Your mom’s idea?”

I roll my eyes. “I couldn’t talk her out of it.” Grabbing Alessia’s glass, I take a sip. “It’s been a great day, but I wish Jimmy was here.”

Aside from close family, my bodyguard is the one person I wanted to have with me today.

I haven’t seen him since I returned from Italy.

I think that’s Antonio’s fault. He obviously preferred to have his own men watching me this week.

Perhaps it’s because he knows Jimmy’s loyalty lies with me and not him.

If I’d wanted to disappear before the wedding, my faithful guard would have made it happen.

Jimmy has messaged a few times to let me know he was thinking about me and apologizing that he couldn’t accept my invitation to the wedding.

I get that. He’s uncomfortable around a lot of people.

Now that Piotr’s whisking me off to Paris, I don’t know when I’ll have the chance to catch up with him.

I hate not seeing him for so long. He’s so much more than an employee to me.

“Yeah, I noticed he was missing. What’s with that?”

“You know how he is at big events. He was afraid he’d scare the kids.”

“Those little horrors.” Alessia motions toward the other side of the room where several of my young cousins are tearing one of the floral arrangements to pieces and throwing petals at each other. “It would take more than a few scars to scare those beasts.”

“He’s sensitive, and most of these assholes don’t have a filter.

” Mobsters aren’t known for their considerate natures.

I’ve heard some of the men in this room say truly horrific things to people.

While Jimmy doesn’t show any sign of being bothered by his scars when he’s on duty, I haven’t seen him at any social gathering since he was injured.

“He said he had a surprise for me, though. I guess I’ll find out what it is when Piotr and I get back. ”

“Where are you going?”

“Paris.”

“Paris?” Alessia groans. “Lucky bitch.”

“I know, right?” I don’t tell her I’m likely to be enjoying one of the most romantic cities in Europe alone. Well, as alone as I can be with a security detail trailing after me. I’m sure a man like Piotr won’t allow his wife to wander around unprotected.

I look up as one of the servers approaches the table.

“A message arrived for you, miss.”

I hold my hand out to take the small white envelope from her. “Thank you.”

When I tear open the envelope, my heart stops. Inside is a photo. It’s me, sitting on the bed in that cheap hotel room Dario took me to. I’m completely naked. I flip the photo over to find a message scrawled on the back. Does the Pakhan know what a slut his new wife is?

My heart practically stops. I scan the room, trying to work out who sent this to me.

It has to be someone here because the announcement about Piotr becoming Pakhan was only made a few minutes ago.

The thought that one of my guests might be watching me right now, waiting to see my reaction to the photograph, makes me sick to the stomach.

“Are you okay?” Alessia asks.

“No.” I stuff the photo into the envelope and crush it in my hand. I pass it to her as Piotr approaches the table. “Burn this for me.”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Promise me, Alessia,” I hiss under my breath.

She nods. “Of course.”

“What’s that?” Piotr asks, pointing to the crumpled paper in Alessia’s hand.

“Nothing.” I get up from my seat to block his view of my cousin. “Someone’s idea of a joke.”

Piotr’s cold blue eyes narrow. “Show me.”

“It’s really not worth seeing.”

“Yet you seem flustered by it.”

The man is far too perceptive. His eyes bore into me. “I’m not. Really.”

I turn to Alessia, hoping she reads my pointed stare correctly. She does. Getting up, she hurries off toward the house, where I know she’ll dispose of the offending photo for me.

Piotr grabs my arm and pulls me to him. “I don’t like my wife keeping secrets from me.”

“I’m not.”

“Go say your goodbyes. We’ll discuss this further on the plane.”

“There’s nothing to discuss.”

“Oh, but my dear, sweet wife, I think there is.”

Pulling free from his grip, I hurry off to tell my mother we’re leaving. A shudder runs down my spine, and I look back to see Piotr staring at me. It’s hard to read him, but the tightness in his jaw tells me he’s angry. I guess the Mr. Nice Guy act is well and truly over.