Page 23 of Marrying the Silver Fox

“I don’t speak much Russian,” I confess, and he shrugs.

“It’s a difficult one to learn, so I’ve heard,” he replies. “But something tells me your tongue would be able to keep up.” He lowers his gaze to my mouth.

Though Nikolai is engaged with the conversation happening before me, I can feel him watching out of the corner of his eye, all too aware that there’s something going on that he would not approve of.

“I don’t know, I’ve never been good with foreign languages,” I reply, playing at dumb, as though I don’t have a clue what he’s getting at.

His own tongue darts out, skimming across his bottom lip. “All you need is a good tutor,” he replies. “And if you need one, I’d be glad to step in if my brother isn’t as…capable.”

“Max,” Nikolai cuts in, his voice low, warning.

Max looks to his brother, raising his eyebrows, playing at dumb. “What is it?”

Nikolai replies to him in Russian—though I don’t speak the language, I can guess just from his tone that it’s a warning of some kind, telling him to keep his distance, to remember who he’s talking to. Max snaps back to him, petulant, but turns on his heel to walk away.

I glance to Nikolai, frowning. “What was that?”

“Pay him no mind,” he replies, staring after his brother as though making sure he’s gone. “He doesn’t know what he’s saying.”

I part my lips, about to ask more—but I think better of it. I need to play it cool tonight, keep from making too much of a scene. Rubbing along with everyone is the best I can do this evening, and as much as I can tell that Max is trying to hint at something more between us, that doesn’t mean I need to entertain it for a moment.

Nikolai turns back to the conversation he was having before, and Max retreats to the other side of the room.

I glance over at him, making sure he’s truly gone. And I find, with a creeping sense of discomfort, that he’s watching me from where he stands. He lifts his glass to me when he catches me looking in his direction, and I swiftly avert my gaze once more, not wanting him to think that there’s anything happening between us.

Because there isn’t. I’m married to his brother, even if he seems incapable of respecting that. And no matter how difficult it might be for Max to make sense of it—I trust Nikolai more than I trust him.

And in this world, I’m starting to get the feeling that who you put your trust in can be the difference between life and death.

11

NIKOLAI

“Here,” I murmur, offering Andie my hand as I help her up the stairs. She’s a little wobbly on her feet, no doubt from the champagne as well as the heels she’s wearing, and she giggles as she grips hold of my hand.

“Sorry,” she mumbles. “I’m just…not used to all that attention, you know?”

Her eyes are sparkling as she makes her way up the stairs. I guess she deserves a chance to let loose a little, given how careful she has been all night. I couldn’t have asked for a wife who fit better into the expectations that my family had for her. Andie was attentive, charming, witty, and engaged with every detail that came out of the mouths of our guests.

Which means I should be pleased with her. But instead, all I can think about is the way they looked at her—and how certain I am that I need to prove, once and for all, that she’s mine.

“You’re not?” I reply. “I find that hard to believe.”

“Why?”

“You handled it so well.”

She shrugs as we make our way up the stairs toward her room. I’ve fed the household staff some lie about Andie needing her own space to sleep, and nobody has pressed too much into it. I’m not even sure she has noticed that we’re both heading to her room right now, but I’m not going to be the one to stop her and point it out. Not when I’ve been watching her in that dress all night, the way it hugs her body, the curve of her hips beneath the velvet.

“Well, I guess it’s just practice,” she replies with a shrug. “I mean, I’ve been doing this wedding planning thing for ages. You get used to figuring out how to handle it when you’re dropped into a room full of people you’ve never met.”

“I suppose so.”

She glances at me as we reach her bedroom door, frowning slightly. “What is it?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why did you say it like that?”