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A crazed laugh slips out against my better judgment. “Sorry, that’s not… None of this is really funny. This is your life, not some joke.”
Bee puts her hand on my knee. “If we can’t laugh, we cry—and I, for one, would much rather laugh. Dmitri’s my lifesaver, Wren. My way out. Vittorio was planning on marrying me off to this old bastard who was as sadistic as he is. Hated people like me as much as Vittorio and he knew about my so-called ‘perversions.’ He would have killed me long before he converted me. That’s why Dmitri stepped in and proposed. He likes to say that we’re both getting something out of it. I get to live free, more or less. And he inherits the Zanetti mafia when the time comes. But the truth is, he would have done it regardless.”
I exhale sharply and drop to a seat on the couch next to Bee. “Fuck, that’s… I mean, that’s a lot of information all at once.”
She winks and pats my knee. “Hey, if it makes you feel better, I forgive you for ruining my hookup.”
I manage a weak smile. “Why didn’t you tell me all this sooner?”
She shrugs apologetically and tips the bottle of gin to her lips. “It was Dmitri’s call. He thought it would be simpler this way.”
Simpler? Maybe.
But for whom?
44
DMITRI
There’s a disturbance in the penthouse. Something has changed.
I sense it the moment I walk into the kitchen after my morning workout and find Bee and Wren at the island with their heads together, whispering madly back and forth.
The suspicious part? They fall silent the moment they spot me.
Even as I assemble a breakfast, I’m vaguely aware of the secretive glances being traded behind my back. Neither one is particularly subtle, but at least Wren is genuinely trying to be. Bee couldn’t give a shit less.
I finally slam the milk carton down on the marble countertop. “Okay, what the hell is going on?”
Wren glances down immediately. Bee just ogles me with that insatiable grin of hers. “What ever do you mean, Mr. Egorov?”
Scowling at her, I add a splash of milk to my coffee. “If you’re plotting to leave the penthouse, don’t bother. It’s not safe out there just yet. I’ll let you both know when you can have an outing. Fair warning: it will be a heavily guarded one.”
“We’re not plotting anything, darling. Don’t you worry.”
But the side smile she throws Wren is troubling. Very troubling.
Surely Bee wouldn’t have crossed the line with Wren, right? Wren is her type, she claims—or at least, she claims in order to piss me off—but the situation is so complicated; she’s carrying my baby, for God’s sake. And Bee would never do that to me. Despite the fact that I’ve said repeatedly that I have no real interest in Wren…
Fuck.
No. No. I’m spiraling now. I can’t afford to?—
“You okay, big boy?” Bee inquires, sipping her coffee delicately.
“Yeah. Fucking peachy.”
She just shrugs and turns to Wren. “Oops—sweetheart, you’ve got a little something on your mouth there. Wait, let me get it.” She licks a thumb and brushes it over the corner of Wren’s lips a little too sensuously for my liking.
The question bears repeating: what the hell is going on?
“Excuse me,” Wren says awkwardly, jumping to her feet and trying to keep me from seeing how bright her cheeks are burning. “Gonna go, er, organize the seating chart for the wedding.”
“I’m right behind you,” Bee calls out as Wren disappears around the corner.
I wait until she’s safely in her room before I storm around the island towards Bee. “I asked once and I’ll ask again: what the fuck is happening?”
She rises off her stool and pats me on the shoulder. “Just a little woman-to-woman bonding, that’s all. You should be happy. Don’t you want your future wife and your baby mama to get along?”
