Page 22 of The Bratva’s Innocent Sold Bride (Fokin Bratva #9)

I wasn’t sure if I got the short end of the stick in this bargain, but the dress Mat chose for me was so beautiful that it smoothed away my prickly edges a little bit.

The fabric was as light as a feather and showed off every part of me that I actually liked.

It fluttered low around my shoulders, revealing the tops of my arms and collarbone, which I considered my best features.

It fell to the top of the matching slingback shoes in regal waves of silk and hugged every curve on the way down.

So far, I had blatantly ignored anything that appeared in my closet in a jewelry box, but there was no way I could go to the Exavier ball unadorned. Mat would have carried me right back upstairs and put it on me himself if I tried it, anyway, so I snapped open the new velvet cases.

The jewelry was stunning, tasteful, and must have cost more than most cars.

Gold, diamonds, and jade so fine it was almost transparent, gleamed up at me.

The necklace fell right to the top of the plunging neckline, the teardrop-shaped jade pendant almost an exact twin to the dress.

Matching small drop earrings and a bracelet were in the second box.

My hair was up in a bun, which I hoped people would associate with Audrey Hepburn instead of suspecting that my super straight hair wouldn’t do much else. A quick sweep of mascara, blush, and the same lip gloss I wore on my wedding day, and I headed downstairs.

Was there actually a flutter in my stomach?

Mat waited for me, breathtaking in a black tux that molded to his muscles. His dark hair that normally looked a bit windswept and unruly was neatly tamed, his strong jaw freshly shaved. I had to make an effort to keep my mouth from dropping open. Was I still mad at him?

Oh, who was keeping score? He looked like a million bucks, and I told him so.

He couldn’t keep his eyes off me, up and down and back again, holding my hand so I’d give him a twirl. I didn’t even feel silly. How could I when his gaze was so transfixed?

He mumbled something in Russian, and I hid a grin. It didn’t suck making someone like Mat Fokin speechless, at least in his second language.

“You’re stunning,” he said, reaching for me.

I stepped back, still not quite over the sting of being used as a useful ticket into this shindig. “The dress will wrinkle,” I said primly.

Inside the car, we only spoke about the event, both of us being pleasant and polite. It was good practice for when we got inside, but it was also uncomfortable after the glimpses of how we could be together.

At the event, he gave his car keys to the valet, who was dressed like an ancient Roman gladiator.

I groaned inwardly as we made our way down the throng of people waiting to get on the step and repeat, a layout like a red carpet at Hollywood premieres.

Behind a golden velvet rope, a crowd of bloggers and gossip news reporters waited to get pictures of everyone, and maybe a tidbit of something juicy if they sucked up hard enough.

By the time it was our turn, I was ready. I may have hated these things, but I was good at them. My father could never be bothered, but my mother lived for them, and I’d been going to the Exavier ball and other events like it since I was ten.

The whole theme was the Glories of Rome, and burly, oiled-up men wearing short togas stood holding torches by tall white pillars every eight feet.

In between, we stopped and smiled and made small talk with the reporters for a minute or so, then moved on.

Women with foot-tall piles of curls on their heads and not much on their bodies waited at the entrance to give us our first glasses of champagne.

Another man dressed in a toga, but who had on his everyday glasses, blew on a horn and showily announced us to the crowd.

Everything was gold and white, and despite the absence of live elephants, it was truly more opulent than any of their other attempts.

Palm trees in golden pots lined the walls.

Tall candlesticks winked in the middle of the tables that were surrounded by golden chairs with white velvet seats.

There were pillars that rose to the high ceiling everywhere, as if someone had decided that was the hallmark of ancient times.

Grapes and white roses twisted with ivy were hung in swathes everywhere, and the thousands of crystals in the huge chandeliers overhead sparkled blindingly.

At the moment, a subtle string quartet played, but if we made it to midnight, there was sure to be a surprise concert from whatever band was hot right now.

It felt good to be out of the house, dressed up and dripping with beautiful jewels, and everyone around us believed that the handsome man at my side was madly in love with me.

“Oh, congrats, dear. Your wedding was so perfect, I’m so sorry I didn’t get a chance to speak with you much then.” Dana Emerrich ran up to me and air kissed my cheeks.

Barely into her thirties, she acted like an old-time society matron, herding everyone together for pictures.

Not many people knew that she secretly ran one of the most accurate gossip sites, or considered how it got so much insider information.

She was discreet as long as you played along and pretended not to know anything.

Cross her and you could be ruined, or at least badly humiliated.

Mat looked like he was bursting with pride as he wrapped his arm around me in the small crowd of other couples while Dana got her photos. At first, I thought it was because he was in the mecca of the rich and powerful, but he only had eyes for me.

He was proud of me for little more than getting along with the people I’d known for my whole life. I didn’t get him, but it still made me feel good. I needed to be good at something, or it didn’t feel like I existed.

We went through the buffet, which was laden with rich and exotic food, including a whole roast goose and suckling pig. Everything was adorned with grapes, apricots, and tiny mandarin oranges, and there was a six-foot-tall tower of miniature cakes decorated to look like landmarks in Rome.

I popped a mini Trevi fountain into my mouth and led Mat to the sidelines to peruse everyone. We’d arrived about halfway, so there were still many working their way down the photo line, or planning on showing up late to miss it altogether.

“You’re amazing,” he said, scowling at his tiny frosted colosseum. “What a waste of time.”

“I told you,” I said, smiling because I knew he meant the elaborate confection.

“It would taste just as good, shaped like a normal slice of cake.

“But then no one could brag about how long it took the celebrity baker to make each one,” I told him. “Are you not entertained?”

He hugged me close to his side as his eyes swept the crowd. “I’m not only entertained, I’m enlightened. Is that the right word? I’ve discovered another facet to my little treasure.”

“What? Me?”

He nodded, still scanning the crowd. “Everyone loves you.”

“No, they don’t,” I said seriously, and he looked down at me. “Some of them are okay, some are my friends, at least I think so. But when word comes out that Taurus Ingenuity is bankrupt and my father is ruined, this all goes away.”

“It won’t,” he said, as solemn as a promise. “I’ll be running this place by the time that happens, and you’re my wife.”

I wriggled out of his grasp. “All my life, I was someone’s daughter, and now I’m just someone’s wife. Can you really not understand why—”

He cut me off with a kiss, wrapping me in his strong arms. “I do understand, CJ,” he murmured against my ear, swaying with the soft music. “But please, let’s enjoy this evening. Who’s that man with the gold cane?”

I nestled against him as we kept swaying, and I filled him in on everyone he pointed out.

He was especially interested in the newcomers as they arrived, and the man with the horn announced them.

But as the party got underway and more couples started dancing, he led me out onto the proper dance floor.

“Is it wrong to want to show you off?” he asked, his tongue practically in my ear.

I shivered and pulled myself closer as everyone around me drifted into the background. Mat could have started unzipping my dress, and I would have been okay with it.

“Probably, but I don’t mind,” I said, then tipped my chin to smile at him.

This was better than arguing. Much better.

“You don’t exactly make me want to hide in a corner.

” He kissed me for the compliment, his hands moving lower.

“We have to remember where we’re at,” I sighed when he started moving his lips down the side of my neck.

His hands slid back up to a respectable spot on my low back, giving me a mischievous look. “When we get home, we’ll have our own private dance floor.”

“Out under the stars,” I said, tilting my head so he could kiss that spot I liked so much, right behind my ear.

“Without so many clothes between us.”

“Do you promise?” I asked. When he touched me, he could twist me around his little finger, make me do or say anything. I wanted a little of that from him.

“That and more,” he said.

The horn blaster made him swivel his head around to check who was arriving, and the moment was lost. But I had that promise of more for later, and I was going to hold him to it.

Someone who had started a huge nondenominational church in the last two or three years and was at all the big fundraisers came in with his haughty-looking wife.

“Those two can’t be more different,” I said, nodding subtly as they walked toward the buffet. “He’s just about as nice as can be, welcoming to everyone, and she’s always got that bitter lemon look.”

Mat smiled down at me, dipping me at a swell in the music, kissing me on the way back up.

“I know something about the good reverend, I bet you don’t.

All those refugees he took in last spring?

Most of them weren’t fleeing anything except maybe bad debts, and he’s got them working for him in everything from illegal gambling to prostitution now. ”

I was so shocked I stopped dancing and stared up at Mat with my jaw to my chest. “No. Absolutely not.”

“His wife tried to divorce him, but he’ll implicate her, which is probably why she looks like she bit into something that tastes bad all the time.” He looked smug. “You’re not the only one who can find out secrets.”

“But this is big. This isn’t just white-collar illegal, it’s… awful. It’s human trafficking. Mat…”

“You want me to do something like I did for the dogs? Not a chance. I have enough trouble with my current enemies.”

“Enemies?” I hissed. “What enemies?”

He laughed, a flash of pity crossing his eyes. “How do you think I got to be in my position without having enemies? Every man and some of the women in this room have someone who wouldn’t hesitate to kill them if they could get away with it. You’re much too innocent, even for your own town.”

He didn’t say it, but I could hear it echoing in his thoughts.

That was why I needed protection. That was why I was confined to activities that could accommodate a full-time, armed guard.

It was clear by the look in his eyes that he believed I needed him to survive.

Sometimes his macho act was hot, but now it was infuriating.

Did I want to blow what wasn’t a bad evening with another fight?

We were always on the precipice of one, and the tiniest wrong move could have us tumbling over in an avalanche of bitterness.

There wasn’t time to decide, because although it was getting late, the announcer blew his horn again to let us know another worthy had arrived.

As usual, Mat’s head whipped toward the entrance, festooned with grapes and roses and golden ornaments.

“Mr. Terrance Hendricks.”

There was a low murmur because Hendricks was an up-and-coming tech genius who had just arrived on the scene.

Less than a year in the area, and he was already the buzz of the community, about to set the world on fire and become the new shining star of the tech world.

He was practically a recluse, keeping to himself, which was why everyone was so curious to get a glimpse of him.

Even my father had tried to hire him when he first showed up out of nowhere, but he had refused the offer, maybe sensing trouble on the horizon.

I figured we’d start gossiping about him, since he had to be someone Mat wanted to know.

But Mat looked like he’d seen a ghost and was frozen to the spot until he abruptly pulled me off the dance floor and away from the crowds.

His eyes never left Terrence Hendricks, who was chatting coolly with Dana, while she probably tried to get exclusive photos without seeming like it.

“We’re leaving,” he said.

“What? Why?” On any other occasion, I would have been running out the door, but we’d been having fun. Sharing secrets. Being normal.

Now he was stone-faced, his blue eyes glacial. “Because I said so,” he answered.

Oh, well, of course, we had to go if he decreed it.

I asked him if something was wrong, but he remained tight-lipped, only leading me out a back way and circling around to the valet station.

He stared down at his phone, as still as a statue while we waited, but impatience practically bubbled under his calm exterior.

There was no use continuing to ask anything. I’d only be ignored, which would piss me off. I still had that promise he made while we were dancing to redeem. Maybe he’d shake off whatever was bothering him when we got home, and I could remind him.

But he never got out of the car, just dropped me off at the front door and zoomed off again into the night.