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Pavel takes his seat and gestures to my plate. “It’s divine. I won’t have another bite until you have your first.”
“Pavel?”
“Yes,Lisichka?”
I hug my shoulders to contain the shivering fit that threatens to break out. “You had no right to do that.”
“Do what?”
“To humiliate her.”
He leans against his elbow while fixing me with a surprised expression. Is that a hint of regret I see in his eyes? Or did I have too much wine already?
“It’s not the right thing to do,” I continue. My voice might be low, but it hasn’t lost its strength. “A simple apology is more than enough.”
“No one disrespects my wife.” His eyes burn with passion as he adds, “Whether in my presence or not, you should be treated with the utmost dignity.”
My heart quivers. He’s angry. With the waitress.For disrespecting me. I can’t believe the genuine emotion changing the frosted green of his irises into Greek fire. They’re alive with energy, conveying exactly what that exchange did to him.
“I appreciate that you want to defend me.” I choose my words carefully. “But I don’t like humiliating others to do it.”
His furious gaze softens, reducing to the warmth of a hearth instead of a three-alarm fire. “I said I would protect you.”
“I didn’t imagine it would be like that.”
“Why not?”
“Because that girl could’ve easily been me.” I shrug while lifting my glass of wine. “If you’d married someone else.”
Pavel is silent, but a small—almost imperceptible nod—tells me that he understands where I’m coming from.
The sun kisses the horizon and ignites our world, enhancing the color of the food, the roses, and the way the man across from me appears. His chiseled features deepen with the new angle of the sun, and it makes his smile look so much more angelic.
He’s not an angel. I know that.
But as we develop our plans for the brigadiers’ party, I can’t help but wonder if maybe there’s a side of him that I haven’t seen yet.
One that’s less devil and more divine.
There’s only one way to find out.
Chapter Twenty
Pavel
Disco lights float across the dance floor like fireflies as EDM rattles the walls of Aerial Blue Nightclub. A path parts in the crowd for me as I walk through to check on my brigadiers. They’re living it up the right way, drinking their fill of beer and top-shelf vodka. Kostya sits in front of one of the many circular stages strewn throughout the club, where the sexiest women in the city shimmy on sparkling silver poles.
Volodya has two blondes on his lap. Even Stepan has attracted the attention of a few call girls who wink at him from another booth. He rolls his eyes and nuzzles into his drink, but I can see he’s interested. He’s still a man. Each ass is rounder than the last, and every pair of tits is exposed short of showing nipple. Bikinis, string tassels, curls, heavy makeup, lingerie—it’s every man’s wet dream in here with an open bar to boot.
But none of it appeals to me. I’m wearing my sculpted expression made of the finest stone while I shake hands, pat backs, and allow women to kiss my cheek. Nobody can read me.
Except for Liya, of course.
When I spot my wife, I notice her hands clutching her arms, her fingers digging into her skin, and the tightness of her expression. She’s folding in on herself like a plastic chair that got toppled over at a party. Lights dance over her face and illuminate the lush golden glow of her skin but hardly represent her mood.
She looks uncomfortable.
A couple of girls drift past and bow their heads respectfully. As promised, she’s getting treated as she should—like she’s my wife.
