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Once we’re close to the doors, she leans in. “Why did it look like Leonid Kozlov wanted to wear your skin as a pretty dress?”
The fear in my chest cracks, and I manage a desperate, croaking laugh. “Thank you for saving me. That’s all I’ll say.”
She holds the door open for me and waves me into the kitchen. “Don’t thank me yet, girl. The night is far from over.”
33
KIRILL
Bullshit people. Bullshit food. Bullshit chatter.
I knew this dinner party would be a vacuous affair, but I didn’t expect it to feel quite so draining. It’s the last place in the world I want to be.
“I expected to see… what’s his name?” Arnov asks. “Stefano, I think? That man I met a few months back in New York City. He’s a friend of yours, isn’t he?”
“He was an ally,” I correct. “Never a friend.”
Arnov eyes me warily. “I hope that distinction doesn’t precludeusfrom being friends.”
I grip the man’s shoulder. It’s bony under my hand. “Of course not. You were a friend first. Our partnership is a bonus.”
Arnov and his family have never actually been friends. German has been my only real friend in my life. Which is why I didn’t force him to attend tonight. Still, as far as allies go, Arnov is one of the most bearable. I don’t mind blowing smoke up his ass.
“That’s great to hear,” he says. “So that means you won’t be strategically claiming territories and alliances from me one by one until I have nothing left?”
I laugh. “A second ago, you were pretending not to know Stefano’s name. But it would seem you know a lot more about him than you let on.”
The man grins, which I wish he wouldn’t do, because it unsettles my stomach every time with those broken, yellow teeth. “You know it’s best to never show your hand, Kirill. I keep up with some of the people in your circle. I was going to have to rethink our relationship. If that’s how you treat your friends, I’m not sure I want to be counted in that group.”
“Stefano crossed me. I had to retaliate.”
Arnov nods knowingly. “Then you did what was best.”
“Best for me.”
“Which is what’s best,” he underscores. “Taking care of yourself is always what’s best. Selfish, maybe. But we aren’t a selfless bunch, are we?”
“Depends who you ask,” I mutter.
Only one person in my life has ever called me selfless.
I glance down the table. Rayne is wiping up the mess Viktoria made, cleaning around my guests who don’t make any moves to help her.
I didn’t offer to help, either. It would have raised too many eyebrows. Viktoria knows exactly how far to push things so she can have her twisted fun without causing any trouble. If I’d blown up at her for teasing a maid, it would have shown far too many cards in my own hand.
That doesn’t mean I’m not entertaining fantasies of stringing her from the ceiling by her ankles.
Suddenly, Arnov pats me on the shoulder. “Working with you is what is best for me. There’s no need to talk about anything else.”
“You don’t want to catch up?” I ask, an air of teasing in my voice. “You haven’t told me about your kids or your wife. We could talk about Sasha.”
“Youdon’t want to catch up,” he corrects. “And I fully intend to stay in your good graces. Plus, it’s in my best interest not to talk about my son.”
Sasha, the son in question, is sitting two spaces down from his father, whispering in the ear of one of my maids and not-so-subtly palming her thigh under her dress.
“I take it he’s still trouble,” I drawl.
“Trouble and a half. But nothing to worry you, Don Zaitsev. I’ll let your other guests annoy you with their family squabbles,” he says. “For me, sitting here and enjoying the hospitality of your food and drink is good enough.”
