Page 108 of Bratva and Betrayal: Kirill

“Stand still for me, honey.” A dressmaker smooths her hand across my waist, tugging the gown fabric tighter.

With more dresses for Kirill’s coronation next week in shades of white and gold lined up on the rack behind me, I stare at myself in the mirror.

I look calm and elegant. As if I belong beside a man like Kirill Volkov. Inside, I still feel scrambled.

“This is the one,” the dress shop owner says softly behind me. “Definitely.”

My fingers brush the bodice absently. “The dress is beautiful, Dahlia.”

The heavy silk hugs my body while the gold threading catches the light with every breath I take.

Did I imagine what this would be like someday? Before the accident? I keep wondering how I felt about being a Bratva queen. Being crowned in a secret ceremony.

Kirill said we didn’t talk about him rising to pakhan. I had to know that being his wife would put me in the spotlight like this. His father wasn’t going to live forever.

The dressmakers keep working, adjusting the hem, the sleeves, asking me to turn left then right.

“Do you want to try on any more, Mrs. Volkov?” Dahlia asks.

I honestly couldn’t tell much difference between the three I already tried on. “This is the one,” I say, lifting the skirt and stepping off the raised platform to go back to the dressing room.

I am halted by a woman with dark hair striding toward me. She’s tall, almost as tall as Kirill. And she’s impeccably dressed in a cream-colored wool duster coat that’s hanging open to reveal a similar colored pants suit. She has a tiny waist and huge breasts. I scan this woman because she’s everything that I’m not, from her long, flowing wavy hair to narrow-toed high heels.

How she walked along the icy sidewalks in them is both a mystery and annoying. I can’t wear anything higher than a kitten heel without feeling dizzy. Yet, the way this woman is looking at me while approaching has pain shooting in my head anyway. I glance at my guard, who watches us, but doesn’t react. They don’t see this woman who is marching toward the pakhan’s wife as a threat.

Standing there in a pinned dress, I say, “Can I help you?”

“It's nice to finally meet you, Mrs. Volkov,” she says, stopping short before me. And not holding out a hand to shake. Odd. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

“And you are?” I give a weak smile.

“I’m Tamara Chernova,” she says with a sultry voice.

My stomach drops. Chernova. She’s Russian. She’s one of them. Wait, so am I.

I keep my expression neutral while my pulse stumbles hard enough that I feel it in my throat. I can’t have this Tamara or anyone else thinking I’m not strong enough to hold on to the Bratva Pakhan.

“Tamara? It’s interesting that you’ve heard about me. I’ve heard nothing about you.” I fold my arms and don’t react to the pinch in my skin from a pin.

Something flickers in Tamara’s eyes. “I’m an old friend of Kirill’s. He never mentioned me?”

I breathe and consider if she knows about my amnesia. Does anyone know what happened? One day I was married to the Bratva heir. We’d just had a baby. Next, I was gone. Did he explain to anyone in the brotherhood where I’ve been?

That I don’t remember anything? Would he let them believe I ran away, and he dragged me back here to make me look defiant, rather than tell them the truth and let me look weak? Like maybe I can’t give him a son who will be the next pakhan?

Whether Kirill mentioned this woman to me five years ago is irrelevant compared to everything I lost. He had a chance to forget about me, write me off, and be with someone else. He waited. He stayed single and celibate for me.

I say what I think will hurt this woman more. “No. Like I said, he never mentioned you.”

“That is so Kirill,” she responds with a bite that quiets the shop.

I fold my arms in defiance. “I would know. I’m his wife.”

“For now.” Her gaze moves over me. Assessing. Sizing me up. “I can’t believe you left Kirill. And your baby.”

Tears prick my eyes as fast as a bullet from a gun. My throat tightens, and I’m helpless to respond. I want to scream that I didn’t. But I don’t know if I left him and Violet with the intent of never returning.

“I’m not sure what you’ve heard,” I counter with a non-answer. “And the fact that I never heard of you tells me you’re not important to my husband.”