Page 25 of Lord of the Underworld

Mother is in constant motion, firing off text after text and conducting several urgent phone calls. By the time there's a knock on the door, I nearly shove poor Zoya aside to open it myself to find a crowd of grinning cousins.

"We thought you could use some moral support," Iris says, eyeing the buzz of activity with some amusement.

"Oh, thank you," I whisper frantically. "If there was something sharp enough to stab Mr. Maurice here in the suite, I would have already used it."

Despite the wedding planner's shrieks about "puffiness!" Caroline opens several bottles of champagne as Iris introduces the newcomers. "This is Ava, our Pakhan Dmitri's wife."

She's blonde, like me, but as small and dainty as a fairy princess. "It's a pleasure," she says warmly. "It's so good to have more female backup in this family. Our strength is in outnumbering the men."

I'm surprised into a laugh before turning to meet Violet. She looks just like Rose and Iris. "Ah, you're the saintly big sister to the twins, I've heard the stories," I say as she reaches in to give me a gentle hug.

"The stories are true," she laughs. "These two are a menace. I'm Roman's wife, and this is Liria."

"Don't worry," Liria smiles sweetly, "I'm the last cousin, I know there's a lot of us. I'm married to Roman and Dmitri's brother Alexsey."

In short order, they gather around Mother, introducing each other and coaxing her to sit down and have something to eat.

"Thank you!" I whisper to Liria. "I don't think she's slept for the last forty-eight hours."

"She does look like…" she hesitates and I know she's looking for a tactful way to say, 'high-strung.' "Your mother looks like she could use a rest."

To add to Mr. Maurice's displeasure, another tea cart is sent up without his authorization, filled with zakuski; tiny sandwiches, blini and caviar, mini pirozhki, and red fish roulades.

"If she passes out from low blood sugar," Ava stands between him and the plate they're filling for me, "it would reflect poorly on you for not looking out for the bride, wouldn't it?"

It's the first time I've seen the angry little Frenchman back down, and thank you, Lord! I'm finally allowed to eat.

Anka is outside on the terrace, watching the activity around the hotel and delivering a steady stream of updates. "The cars are pulling up. I've never seen these many limousines outside of a funeral procession."

"Inspiring, thanks," I say dryly.

"Oh, and there's your brothers," she says. "It looks like Maks is coming down from a big night or he's still drunk. It's hard to tell."

"That tracks," I agree.

"Would Vadim be drunk?" Anka comes back in, looking worried.

We'd both seen more than one groom, hammered to the gills, at these society weddings, and it's always mortifying.

"No," I say decisively. "Not Vadim."

"Yes, even if he's drinking," she says, "I imagine the booze freezes in his system, turns to mist, and then floats away before he could even get drunk."

A few minutes later, my brother Maks pounds on the door. "Let me in! I bring news!"

"Isn't that bad luck to see the bride?" Dasha asks.

"No, that's only the groom," Rose says.

"What if Maks takes a picture and sends it to Vadim?" Dasha seems genuinely concerned.

"You might be overthinking this," Iris pats her hand.

My brother swaggers in, tie crooked and a slightly manic grin that tells me he's been pre-gaming with the vodka. "Hey, Oksana, you look great."

I look down. I'm in a robe and the stylist has just wiped a stinging green face mask off my skin.

"Thank you, brother. Why are you here?"