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“We were acquaintances,” I explain reluctantly. “In prison.”
Her bedazzled chest flushes a deep mauve. I can’t say that I blame her—I never talk about what happened there.
“Perhaps, now that we are both out, we can be friends?” Lucio suggests with a charming smile. “After all, your grandfather and I were very close.”
“That’s reason aplenty to keep our distance.”
Natacha looks thoroughly confused now. “Yeremy Adamov was a great man. My father speaks very highly of him.”
“Did you ever meet him personally?” I ask.
“Well, no, but?—”
“Then count yourself lucky. Come on, Natascha. It’s late and I’ve had enough of this circus.” I give Lucio the smallest of nods. “Lucio.”
He folds neatly to the side with a slight bow.How the tables have turned.Then again, it’s much easier to intimidate a seventeen-year-old prison inmate than it is to go toe-to-toe with the billionairepakhanof the Adamov Bratva.
“We’re actually leaving?” Natascha hisses. “Now?”
“Stop whining and keep up.”
She does stop whining and she does keep up, but she fumes silently as I lead her out of the ballroom, walking fast enough that we can’t be lassoed into unnecessary conversation.
The moment we’re in the elevator, she smacks her hand against the gold railing. “I was having a good time!”
“I thought you hated coming to these things with me. Or so you keep saying.”
“I bought this necklace special for the occasion,” she protests. “And the dress is new, too.”
“Glad to know my hard-earned money is going to good use.”
“Please. Your money comes from the grandfather you seem to hate so much.”
I turn my glare on her, even though this is my fault. I revealed a sore spot by admitting my dislike of Yeremy. The more information Natascha has, the worse she is to be around.
I swallow down a retort and grit out. “I’ll be passing Riviera Heights. I’ll drop you off.”
Gedeon is waiting downstairs for us in the Bugatti. Apart from Dominik, Ged is the only othervorin my inner circle that I trust completely. Which is why he’s frequently on Natascha Duty.
It’s also the reason he receives a special monthly bonus ever since I married her.
The moment we’re in the car, I disappear into my phone, pointedly ignoring how Natasha is staring daggers at me. The woman won’t win any awards for subtlety, that’s for fucking sure.
“Aren’t you going to ask me how my night was?” she snaps at last.
Without looking up, I drawl, “Do I ever?”
“Three people asked me if we were going to have a baby. The news is circulating.”
“I expected as much.”
“You could’ve prepared me. I barely knew what to say!”
“Say we’re having a baby through a surrogate because the fiery, sulfurous environment of your womb makes it inhospitable for human life. Everyone will believe it.”
She gasps. “You… you…”
“Asshole?” I supply generously. “Bastard?Mudak? Take your pick. I invite them all. Probably deserve them all, too.”
