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Mila glances up sharply, staring at me, and I wonder if Dimitri is right. If he told me, and I, for whatever reason, let it slip to Mila, would she go running to her dad? Is his hold on her that bad? I guess this is a sick, twisted upside to being an orphan.
Soon, the limo comes to a stop. We’re at the rear of what appears to be some factory, the basement doors thrown open and a pocket of yellow light shining into the street. A doorman approaches, opening the door. Dimitri climbs out first and offers me his hand.
Nerves try to throttle me as I take it, then step onto the street. I’m unsure what I imagined, but this is pretty low-key—just two doormen and a large basement entrance.
“Don’t worry,” Dimitri whispers, his hand tightening around mine. “It’ll be nicer inside.”
“Who said I was worried?” I shoot back.
We walk down the basement stairs, down a narrow corridor, and everything completely changes. It’s like we’re suddenly transported into the corridor of a five-star hotel. Luxurious rugs lay over the floor, with flickering actual fires in sconces on the walls. A host approaches us, wearing a sleek suit.
“Mr. Sokolov, sir, I’m so sorry for the delay. Your team has informed you that everything is safe, I trust? Of course, otherwise, you wouldn’t be here!” The man seems flustered and borderline frightened.
Dimitri smiles easily. “It’s fine. I knew it would be safe. I wouldn’t bring…” His hand tightens on mine. “… my people here if I didn’t think so.”
“Some prankster, no doubt.”
“Yes,” Dimitri says. “Or somebody who wanted the party delayed or called off for another reason.”
I wonder if Mila and Ania are fidgeting behind me. The host waves us into a large chamber-like room. Half of the room is underground. The rest is above ground, with tall windows letting in swaths of light through distorted glass, almost like a church. A jazz band plays softly, and the room is milling with people, men, and their wives, but no children.
As we walk across the room, the activity slowly stops. My cheeks burn. My feet feel like they’re trying to trip me up. The heels make me feel like I’m floating from footstep to footstep. Many people look outright angry, especially the men sitting at the table at the front—the table we’re walking right toward.
Mila makes a slight moaning noise, and I can tell it is terror at seeing her father. Nikolai is a sweaty man with a look of purefury on his face—the man who tried to kidnap me. He glares like he’d happily leap from the chair and tear my face off.
“Dimitri,” he says, standing, causing everyone at the table to stand, four men and four women. The table is enormous, like some medieval round table, easily the biggest in the room. “This is… unusual,” he goes on. “You’re going to marry my daughter in a couple of weeks, and here you are, with this, this… this lady.”
It doesn’t take a genius to figure out he wanted to say much more than “lady.”
This is the part that’s going to sting, but I tell myself I’m mentally prepared. When Dimitri gruffly laughs, I take a breath, getting myself ready. “Just because a man’s getting a wife doesn’t mean he can’t have some fun, does it? Relax.”
Nikolai winces like he’s in pain, but it’s nothing compared to the sick twist in my gut. The thought of Dimitri pushing me away, of not caring, hurts. It stings. Even if I know it’s all make-believe.
The men around Nikolai look at each other. Some of them have tattoos all over their neck and hands. Nikolai laughs a moment later. “As long as you put a ring on it…”
The men look disgusted. Nikolai doesn’t even realize. As everybody sits down, he’s busy dabbing at his face with a handkerchief, sweat pouring all over him. A waiter comes and asks everyone what drinks they’d like. I get a soda, but most of the men get alcohol, except for Dimitri, Mikhail, and Nikolai.
“Quite the commotion,” Nikolai says. “Nothing to get people talking like a good old bomb threat.” Nikolai is talking to Dimitri, but his gaze fixates on the table and how Dimitri’s hand moves toward mine. I resist the urge to pull it away. Something is terrifying in the way he glares.
If he had the chance, I know he’d make it impossible for us ever to be together.
“Do you have to be so obvious about it?” Nikolai says, sounding more like a whiny child than a boss. Clearly, he’s a bully, and he looks oh-so small compared to Dimitri.
“She’s my woman, Nikolai,” he says. “You can arrange any marriage you want, but she’ll never stop being my woman.”
“This is—” Nikolai stands up. His hand moves quickly over his head and face, constantly mopping at the sweat. I wonder if he has some kind of condition that causes him to sweat so much. “Dimitri, perhaps we should talk in private.”
Dimitri stands slowly like a man with all the time in the world, making Nikolai seem rushed. “Yes, let’s do that. Away from the women.”
Just like that, he turns and walks away. Nikolai is left to fumble as Mikhail and the other men leave. I must push down my natural response, my urge to go with Dimitri. This was all part of the plan, and now Mila is staring at me. “I didn’t know you would be so obvious about it.”
“We had to be,” I murmur. “We had to make him mad.”
“But you didn’t tell me.”
“Mila, you?—”
“I made a mistake,” she cuts in, referring to the fact that she almost helped get me kidnapped, though she did save me from my would-be kidnapper.
