“Of course,” Viktoryia replies, wrapping an around my waist, “Don’t you worry,Pakhan,I will take care good care of her.”
“What’s going on?” I ask Viktoryia as she leads me to the table closest to the stage.
I barely get a chance to sit before Yana returns with a glass of ice water for me, then takes a scant step back.
“Oh, nothing to be worried about, honey,” Viktoryia replies, waving over a waiter. “They have everything under control.”
Have what under control?I want to ask. Something has been off all day today. I have sensed it since the moment I caught Kirill staring at me in the solarium. Even Yana, who I thought I had figured out, was now somehow acting colder and quieter than usual as I feel her eyes baring down on me.
“Ah, this must be the new Mrs. Pavlovich,” a man says as my thoughts churn.
I look up, putting on another smile, but it hitches a little when I see Yana step up close to the man.
“Hello, Ivan,” Viktoryia says sweetly up to the handsome, middle-aged black-haired man. “Yes, it is. This is Annika Pavlovich. Annika, this is Ivan Gulkin. He is very important to our family.”
“Hello,” I say, but Ivan’s intense stare has me feeling more than a little uncomfortable.
“Beautiful,” Ivan states, taking his time looking me over. “I can see now why my Maria was passed up.”
I feel another shiver go down my spine, but I do my best not to show it.
“Excuse me?” I ask.
“Ivanka, too. And Petra,” he just goes on, as if he either doesn’t hear me or genuinely doesn’t understand my confusion.
“Ivan.”
We all turn towards Kirill’s gruff tone, and I see that he, Edik, and Mihail have returned. Kirill’s blue eyes flash down toward me, and he breaks apart from the other two men to place a hand on my bare shoulder. I can’t help it, I’m immediately comforted by his touch.
Ivan smiles at Kirill then bends into a low, formal bow at the waist.
“Pakhan.I was just telling your lovely new bride-”
“You don’t need to tell her anything,” Kirill cuts him off, his tone just as sharp as before.
“I only meant that-”
“Jesus, Ivan, stop talking,” Pyotr says, announcing his presence.
He flops down in one of the chairs at our table, his glass of whiskey sloshing a bit as he grins fiendishly up at Ivan.
“You should go,” Pyotr says, then slurps loudly at his drink, “Before my brother feels the need to give you a lesson on manners.”
I watch as Ivan pales as he looks at the men surrounding him. Pyotr’s still giving him that maniac grin but Kirill, Edik, and Mikhail are all giving him an intense straight-faced stare.
“My deepest apologies,” Ivan apologizes.
“You apologize to my wife as well,” Kirill commands, giving my shoulder a gentle squeeze.
Ivan finally looks back at me and I catch the annoyance that glitters briefly in his eyes.
“My deepest apologies, Mrs. Pavlovich. I did not mean to offend you.”
I don’t believe him. Not for a second. I’m pretty sure that was exactly what he was trying to do before Kirill and the others came to the table. Still, I nod in acknowledgement, and then Mikhail and Edik are walking the man away.
“I’m sorry, Kirill,” Viktoryia apologizes as he takes a seat beside me.
“It’s not your fault, Viktoryia,” Kirill replies. His hand moves from my shoulder to my knee, and he gives it a squeeze.
