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“One more thing,” he adds, shuffling the papers on his desk. His attention had already moved on. “Kira is organizing a girls’ night out this weekend. She’ll fill you in on the details. Just wanted to give you a heads-up.”
“Really!” I didn’t expect to be so excited about plans to go out, but I suppose that speaks to how freakin’ bored I am here. “This calls for a shopping spree. I wonder where I left your no-limit credit card?” I tap a finger on my chin.
Daniil leans forward, two hands spread wide on his desk as he drinks me in from head to toe. “I remember exactly where I left it. Let me know if you need a reminder.”
I raise one saucy eyebrow before spinning on my heel and leaving him to his memories.
CHAPTERSEVENTEEN
BIANCA
My eyes peel open,and I shoot out of bed as if it’s on fire.
Holy shit. How could I forget?
I’m supposed to meet Deidre today. Our first in-person meeting since I became Daniil’s wife, and it completely slipped my mind for no good reason other than my bed is extra warm and cozy and I’m curled up with Eris. She might be a demon during the day, but at night she is a pure angel, snuggling with me like the only thing she needs to survive is my body heat.
See, who needs a man when you have a dog?
Rousing Eris beside me, I let her out of my room while I shower and hurriedly dress, then head to the kitchen to find Mikhail and Timofey sitting at the breakfast table with mugs of coffee. Eris, for once, is calmly playing with one of her chew toys in the corner.
“Good morning,” I say cheerily, pouring myself a cup of coffee. “I’d like to go shopping today. There’s a little boutique on the Upper East Side that does private fittings. They’ll close the shop for me.”
Stoic as ever, the two guards nod, and Timofey asks for the name of the store so they can run it through their database. I don’t even know what that means, but I’m happy to oblige. They’ll find no threats. Deidre will have made sure of it.
An hour later, we pull up to the curb in front of a boutique called Boutique Amber. Located in a former architect’s townhouse, it’s both glam and funky at the same time. I step out of the car, flanked by my two guards. Wearing an above-the-knee Diane von Furstenberg wrap dress, tall heels, dark sunglasses, and blood-red lips, I feel every inch the mafia printsessa that Daniil accuses me of being.
As planned, the store is empty except for the manager, a man who introduces himself as Marco. Stepping forward, he takes my hand. “Madam Kozlov,” he says in a thick Italian accent, “a personal stylist is waiting for you in one of the private fitting rooms.”
I nod, and allow him to lead me towards the back, both guards hot on my heels. Right before Marco opens the door to the room I’m to meet Deidre in, I turn towards my hulking shadows. Pointing at two luxurious armchairs near the door, I say, “Best to wait for me here.” Mikhail and Timofey exchange a look, unsure how to handle my suggestion. “I don’t think my husband would appreciate you watching me change,” I say, eyebrow arched, but Mikhail stands his ground.
“We need to clear the room first,” he insists. “It’ll only take a minute.”
“Of course,” I grumble. Perhaps my uncle’s guards were less careful, but this has never happened before. Still, when Mikhail enters the small, elegant space, Deidre turns from the mannequin she is dressing and greets him with a friendly smile.
She’s looking all New York high fashion in leather pants, a gauzy gray blouse, and high boots. It’s a far cry from her usual jeans and blazer. Her braids are pulled back into a sleek bun, and her majestic cheekbones are highlighted with a swipe of blush. I never noticed how lovely she is, but it turns out Deidre is a babe.
As Mikhail clears each corner, I go through the charade of introducing myself to her and explaining some outfits I’m looking for.
“Wonderful,” she replies, taking me over to the racks of clothes laid out against one wall. “I think you’ll find much of what you’re looking for here.”
As I rifle through the racks of designer clothes, Mikhail gives me a tiny nod. “We’ll be right outside,” he says, and it sounds like a warning as much as it does an assurance of my safety.
Once he exits, Deidre’s expression loses some of that effortless charm, and the hardened FBI agent emerges. “How are you?” she asks, getting straight to the point.
“I’m doing…” Man, I don’t know how to finish that sentence. Confused by my feelings for my new husband, bored, lonely, unsure if I can really be useful to the FBI, though I’m still desperate for revenge. But I say none of that. I settle on, “I’m doing alright.”
“Good,” she says, carefully eyeing me. “Is Daniil treating you fairly?”
I feel myself blush, so I quickly look away. My eyes land on the decorative tin ceiling before I can meet her gaze again. “Yeah. He’s actually not that bad.”
A small smile stretches across her lips. “I see. So that’s how it is,” she teases, lifting her eyebrows suggestively. “Good. Whatever brings you closer. Did you learn anything of interest?”
Her questioning gaze meets my own, and a sheen of sweat breaks out at my nape. “We haven’t done that… yet,” I validate, my cheeks blazing. “He’s still wary of me. But we’ll get there soon.”
Unable to stand the awkwardness of this moment, I turn around and busy myself hunting through the contents of the rack in front of me. I tug out something silver and shiny, holding it up in front of me in the mirror.
“Shopping for an event?” Deidre comes up behind me. We lock eyes in the mirror, and I know she’s studying me, weighing everything I’m not saying.
