Page 77 of Savage Truce

How on earth am I going to deal with thirty-seven women?

What do I do if they all hate me?

The instant I reach the open doors, Marina spots me and comes closer with a proud smile. “You look beautiful.”

I glance past her at the room Miss Zoya decorated. Round tables are covered with white cloths, small arrangements of pastel-colored roses, and tiered stands loaded with cakes, sandwiches, pastries, and other desserts. The teacups and saucer sets for each table have different flowers, and I can honestly say, Miss Zoya has totally outdone herself.

Then my gaze sweeps over all the women who are dressed to the nines for the occasion, and as their heads turn to me, I begin to feel queasy.

Marina places her hand on my back and whispers, “Remember, you are the queen. They want you to like them.” I suck in a desperate breath as she guides me deeper into the room, then she announces, “Ladies, I’d like you all to meet Anastasia Volkova, our pakhan’s wife.”

Light applause breaks out around the room, and some women give me warm smiles while others murmur variants of greetings and blessings.

“Congratulations, Mrs. Volkova.”

“It’s wonderful to finally meet you.”

“Welcome.”

“Hell yeah! Finally, someone under forty,” a brunette with blond streaks in her hair calls out, and when it draws the laughter of some, the tension gripping my chest eases a little.

The brunette makes a beeline for me, an excited smile on her face. “I’m first!”

“Katya, take your seat and wait to be introduced,” Marina chastises her, but I hold up my hand quickly.

“No, I’d like to meet her first.”

Katya doesn’t reach out her hand, but instead, she gives me a quick hug before beaming at me. “You have no idea how relieved I am that you’re my age!” She takes a step back and looks me up and down. “You have to tell me where you bought the gorgeous dress.”

When I finally get a word in, I smile brightly and say, “I made the dress myself.”

“You like sewing?” Another woman asks, coming closer to admire the stitching. “There’s a small group of us who get together every two weeks to discuss patterns. We’d love to have you join us.”

“Yes,” another agrees, and when she gets up, they all flock toward me.

“Ladies!” Marina claps her hands, then shakes her head sternly. “Please take your seats. I will bring Anastasia to every table so you can all have a moment of her attention.”

Katya squeezes my hand. “Do your rounds, but please come sit by me. I’d love to get to know you better.”

“I will,” I assure her before giving Marina a grateful look for saving me from a stampede.

We move on, and Marina introduces me to so many women there’s no way I’ll remember any of their names. But luckily, no one makes me feel uncomfortable, and I’m totally taking that as a win.

Most come across reserved, and some are talkative, asking about my past. I stick to general answers about my time in the UK.

When we reach a table by the windows, Katya is seated at it with two other women. After Marina introduces me to them, she whispers in my ear, “You can sit here or pick any other table. Have some tea and catch your breath.”

Oh, thank God!

I sink down on the highback chair and let out a sigh while I smile at Katya.

When I reach for one of the teapots, she says, “Let me get that for you.”

“So who are you married to?” I ask.

She gets a mischievous grin on her face. “Sergei Kagan. Your guard.”

My eyebrows fly up as I let out a surprised gasp. “Really?”