Page 76 of Black Ledger

Without glancing back, I rushed from the room, my boots clicking against the floor as his horrible laughter followed me.

Shit, I needed to get myself together.

I could not fall apart in front of one of my victims.

Chapter Thirty-One

Xeniya Morozova

Age 35

Iswung open the glass door to the flower shop and turned to look back at Neeve, who shrugged.

“Weird entrance to a mafia-owned club,” she said, stepping up to meet me. “Even weirder place to have an engagement party.”

It was my official engagement party with the entire Bratva in attendance. Although I had been around for a month, sifting through data at both Severin’s house and at my house on the cloned drive. But now it was time to make everything official. Normally, mafia marriages moved much faster than this, but neither Severin nor I felt the urge to rush. We planned to get married in six months—an eternity for an arranged marriage.

“It’s speakeasy-themed,” Callum, Neeve’s older brother, said.

The store was bright with warm yellow lights. Unsurprisingly, it dripped with flowers of all types. But the ones that stood out and caused my eyebrows to form a deep crease were the dandelions. They were everywhere: in large vases, under crystal glass, and the entire back wall behind the register was covered in large white puffs—the seed-only versions of dandelions.

The cashier flashed a bright smile as we entered. “Ah, you must be here for the engagement party.” She stepped out from behind the register. “Follow me. I’ll show you the way.”

She led us into another room full of flowers and bookshelves, and she walked over to a shelf and pulled out a book. A metal click sounded, and the shelf swung inward, opening to a foyer covered in Art Deco-inspired decor and wallpaper. The light was warm, and the walls were red and black.

“Welcome to the Gilded Dandelion,” the host said, standing at a podium. “The ballroom is this way.” She motioned for us to go farther through the double doors with intricate gilded crown molding.

The place was beyond opulent.

It was like money vomited on the club, but not in an uncouth way. It was tasteful but expensive.

The ballroom was… something else. It was like the place was dipped in crimson and gold. It kept the nineteen-twenties-inspired decor and vibe, but elevated it.

I stopped short when my eyes landed on the stage. At the sides, framing it like bookends, were two three-story, gilded dandelion sculptures built into the walls. The seeds even hung down and over part of the stage.

On the platform was perhaps one of the most beautiful women I had ever seen. She looked like a redheaded version of Marilyn Monroe. She sang soft jazz in a sexy soprano.

She was striking, but it was the dandelion sculptures that caused me to pause.

When was this club built?

And who built it?

Confusion coiled through the rungs of my ribs like a snake. Because Dandelion was his nickname for me, but there was no way he could have made this club for me. Right?

Get rid of her.

The words ghosted across my skin, and my blood boiled. There was no way he had built this for me. But then why? Was my nickname even special at all? Had he called other girls his little dandelion, too? He was a whore.

It was very possible that nothing about our time together had been special.

I swallowed hard and glanced at Neeve, who stepped up to my side again and squeezed my hand. She knew everything about my past and Severin. She knew I was rattled without saying a word.

I’d known about Severin’s club. It was one of his businesses he ran long before he became Pakhan, but I never bothered to visit it or put a camera in it. So this was the first time I’d seen it. Severin wasn’t my target until recently.

I had so many other men to stalk and kill first.

And if I’m being honest, I was ignoring him and his name at the top of my black ledger. Yes, I did actually have a little black book with all the names of the men I was going to kill in it.