Page 50 of Savage Little Lies

This is Annika’s world. Crystal, chandeliers, triple-digit steaks. This is the level of luxury she’ll expect every night from me for the rest of our lives. God forbid I want pizza or takeout once in a while.

Annika spots me first and waves me over, her body draped in a silver dress that shimmers under the lights. She stands from her seat and holds her hand out to me. “Hi, honey.”

I take her hand and kiss the top of it, going through the motions in front of her father who watches me like a hawk. I release her hand and sit to her left so that I’m across the table from Artur.

“Good to see you, Dmitri,” Artur says as he leans forward to shake my hand. “We’ve been overdue for dinner.”

I don’t agree with that in the slightest. Unfortunately, I have to play by his rules for now.

We have enough enemies to deal with as it is.

“I take it you’ve increased security measures?” he asks.

“Of course,” I agree. “More men than you can count are currently ensuring our safety tonight.”

While the entourage will likely raise some eyebrows and questions about my position in the Bratva, it’s the smart move to protect Annika. She may be a pain in my ass, but I don’t want her death on my conscience.

Once we have some wine and order appetizers, I take a long sip from my glass and try to settle in for dinner. After being rejected by Cara today, all I wanted to do was go home, sulk, and figure out another plan to make her mine.

“So, as we were discussing on the phone earlier, Annika would like your input more on the wedding planning. Starting by setting a date,” Artur tells me. “I figure we could talk about some of those details now since we’re all here.”

Annika gives him a wide, excited smile before turning to me, her hand clamping down on mine on the surface of the table. “It’s your wedding too, honey. You should want to have a say.”

As much as I want to argue, I refrain from it.

“Sure,” I say. “What wedding plans did you want to talk about?”

“Everything!” Annika replies before grabbing her phone and showing me a horde of different pictures of venues, flowers, dresses, cakes, and a million other wedding things.

I nod while she scrolls, letting her talk my ear off about how disappointed she was that I missed the cake tasting and how she doesn’t know whether to choose the raspberry filling or the almond flavor. It’s hard for me to figure out when to even jump in, and her father stares at me all the while.

“I can help you choose the cake flavor,” I tell her. “I’m not a big fan of raspberries, so the almond will probably be the best.”

To my surprise, Annika pouts. “But I like the raspberry filling. If you were there to taste it, you would’ve seen how good it is.”

My jaw aches from being clenched in frustration as I stare at her.

“We’ll come back to the cake,” Annika replies as she waves her hand dismissively. “Let’s talk about flowers.”

I get through three glasses of wine, some bacon-wrapped scallops and spinach dip, and a ribeye by the time Annika finally slows down on the wedding talk. My mind is a little hazy at this point from the alcohol and exhaustion, and I can already tell that this wedding is going to suck the life out of my bank account.

“Do we really need a champagne fountain?” I ask her as the waiter takes away our empty plates.

Annika lets out a laugh of disbelief. “Of course, we do. Daddy, have you been to any weddings without a champagne fountain?”

“No, sweetie,” Artur replies as he leans back in his seat, his round stomach looking even more prominent now that he took down a whole steak.

“This wedding can’t look cheap. No one will believe our marriage if it looks cheap,” Annika tells me. “Besides, it’s the only wedding we’ll ever have. We should make it as big and amazing as possible!”

The only wedding that I’ll ever have.

The only woman I’ll ever get to have.

Those words hit me like a sucker punch, leaving me spiraling. It’s hard enough that the woman I want won’t let me have her because I’m about to be married. Judging from all her flirting and choice of attire, I thought she wouldn’t have an issue with a fling—a simple, single transaction.

Cara’s known for a while now that I’m getting married.

She knows how badly I want her.