Page 52

Instead, I remain exactly where I am. I refuse to make a scene. I'm not that woman. Slowly, I finish the last sip of champagne.

The bubbles do nothing to settle the strange knot growing inside my chest. When a waiter passes, I place the empty flute onto his tray.

"I need to use the bathroom," I tell the bodyguard quietly.

He nods. "I'll remain outside the ladies' room, ma'am."

I make my way down the hallway and slip into the restroom. The moment the door closes behind me, the noise from the ballroom fades.

I step up to the mirror, and for a long moment, I simply stare at my reflection. Then I pull out my compact and begin touching up my makeup.

"Get a grip," I whisper to myself. "It's nothing."

I smooth a finger beneath one eye. "You're overthinking."

But the words don't convince me. Not after what that elderly woman said.

What a powerful couple you and Katerina would have made.

The sentence keeps replaying in my head. Did he ever date Katerina? If that's true, then why did he marry me? Why not simply marry Katerina?

Unless… marrying me was always about power. The alliance between the Sokolovs and the Morettis strengthens both empires. It benefits Roman just as much as it benefits Papa.

That's what I am, a bargaining chip. I grip the edge of the marble vanity.

Another thought follows, the days Roman stayed away from me. Was he with her?

My chest tightens painfully. Am I going to have to share him with her? Am I doomed to walk the same path as my mother?

My vision begins to blur. I blink rapidly. No. Absolutely not. I will not cry over this.

I square my shoulders and take a slow, steady breath. Whatever this is, whatever Katerina means to Roman, I'm not giving her the satisfaction of seeing me break.

I finish touching up my lipstick and the restroom door swings open. Katerina walks in. She's smiling. I pretend not to notice her.

Turning back to the mirror, I smooth a nonexistent wrinkle from my dress, hoping she'll do whatever she came in here to do and leave.

No such luck. She strolls over to the sink beside mine, turning on the faucet as if she'd simply come to wash her hands.

For a few seconds, neither of us speaks. Then she glances at me through the mirror.

"You don't have to look so miserable."

I don't respond.

She dries her hands leisurely. "The fact that Roman married you doesn't make him your man."

My fingers still against the vanity.

Her smile widens. "I'm sure you already know why he married you."

She shrugs and turns fully toward me. "So don't confuse a marriage contract with love. Roman isn't yours."

My jaw tightens as I slowly turn to face her. "So that's how you see it?"

She folds her arms. "That's exactly how it is."

I hold her gaze. "Then tell me something."