The corner of her mouth twitches but doesn't become a smile. She squeezes my hand once under the table, then lets go and folds her hands back in her lap.
It's disappointing that this is all we have. I've brought her to my bed, let her dine at my table, and shared with her things I've never told another soul. Still, she can't see how everything I'm doing is for her. It's crushing.
Movement near the entrance pulls my attention. Vera walks through the double doors in a floor-length silver gown with diamonds at her throat, Sofi on her left in deep red and Sabine on her right in black. They float through the room like they're expecting the same warm welcome reserved for me and Mila, and they don't get it. Not a head turns. No one notices. They aren't half as stunning as the woman I love.
"They're here," I say. "I need to seat them. I'll be right back."
Mila nods without looking at me. I push my chair back, button my jacket, and take three steps before glancing over my shoulder.
She's already on her feet, moving toward the hall that leads to the restrooms with one hand raised to her face, dabbing at her eyes with her fingertips. I can only stand and watch her vanish wondering how she can feel so upset that I may choose one of her stepsisters for marriage when she herself told me to do it, all while she's crying her eyes out like it's killing her. Yet she won't marry me.
What on earth did I do wrong?
When she's gone, I turn and cross the ballroom toward Vera. She notices me from a distance and swats at her daughters,whose eyes snap to attention on me. Both of them offer salacious expressions and snicker.
"Roman." Vera extends both hands and I take them, leaning in to press my cheek to hers. "What a beautiful evening. You've outdone yourself."
"I'm glad you could make it."
Sofi steps forward, grinning. "Tell me you're going to give us a hint. Even a small one."
"No hints." I tsk, raising my chin as Sabine leans in.
"Not even a letter?" Sabine tilts her head. "A syllable?"
"I'll tell you this much." I hold Vera's gaze. "It's someone you'll never suspect."
Vera's lips part slightly, her eyebrows lifting in acknowledgement. Keeping her surprised and on her toes is my point. I can't have her getting cold feet and leaving early, so I slowly lift her right hand and press my mouth to the back of it, holding the kiss a beat longer than necessary on purpose. The act lands like a slap, just as I intend. When I straighten, Sofi's grin has tightened and Sabine's smile has cooled, and Vera is flushed from her neck to her hairline.
"Your table is right this way." I walk them to the table of honor near the front, pulling Vera's chair out first, then Sofi's, then Sabine's. "Enjoy the evening. Dinner will be served after my remarks."
By the time I return to my table, Mila's back. Her face is freshly washed, the redness around her eyes concealed, the plastic smile firmly in place. She sits with her back straight and her handsfolded, and though she looks composed and beautiful, I know she's completely miserable.
I'd harness the sun and bring it to her for warmth if she told me she was cold. I'd dive to the depths of the ocean and harvest the blood of her enemies if she asked me. But the pain in her heart is a secret so well kept, I have no idea how to untangle it. But if she asked me, I'd try.
All I can do is follow my plan and hope whatever path life leads her down, she can be happy and heal from the life she's lived up until now.
The string quartet begins their first piece. Waitstaff circle with trays of hors d'oeuvres and champagne. Mila takes a glass of water while I drain half a champagne flute in one swallow. I offer to get her wine, thinking she doesn't like the champagne, but she doesn't even respond.
When the meal is over and the last trays have been cleared, I pull my phone from my jacket and find a message waiting.
Timur: 7:58 PM: I am ready when you are.
I look across the room at table nine. The Police General's leaning back in his chair with a glass of wine, his Major-General beside him. Both are relaxed, well-fed, looking every bit the honored guests they believe themselves to be.
Then I steal a glance at Vera's table. She's laughing at something Sofi has said, while Sabine watches the room with those careful appraising eyes of hers. They have no clue what's about to happen, and I've managed to shake off some of my own discouragement to bolster my excitement to finish this.
Roman: 7:59 PM: Present the file now. Table nine.
I stand and the room begins to quiet as I move toward the stage. Conversations die down in a wave that rolls from the front to the back. The string quartet stops mid-song as I step onto the platform, taking the microphone from its stand, and the overhead lights dim as the projector hums to life behind me.
"Good evening," say to a warm round of applause that quickly fades. "Thank you for being here tonight. This gala has been a tradition for seven years, and every year, the generosity of the people in this room makes it possible for Perm General to treat patients who would otherwise have nowhere to turn."
The first slide appears—photographs of the hospital, the pediatric wing, the surgical suite funded by last year's event. I talk through the numbers and the lives saved while the room listens with polite attention. Doctors and nurses are honored, and I mention some wonderful community-focused programs they have, and then I turn toward my real purpose, my chest absolutely bursting with anticipation.
"But tonight is about more than the hospital." I pause, letting the quiet settle over the room. "Tonight, I need to address a matter that affects every family represented here."
The slide changes. Vera's photograph fills the screen—not the smiling socialite at the table of honor, but a younger version taken years ago under a different name. The lights are almost too dim. I can't see her, and it's hard to make out, but I can feel her shock literally shift the atmosphere of the entire room.
