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“Whoa.” I sit back in my seat, stunned. “That must have been quite the reunion.”
She laughs and shakes her head. “You don’t know the half of it.
I owe my life to my brothers… and Georgia,” she adds, tipping her head at our sister-in-law talking animatedly with the others.
“Really?” I’m a bit shocked that Daniil has told me none of this, but of course, I haven’t asked. And maybe it’s because there's a teeny tiny part of me that’s hurt by his rejection—which makes no freakin’ sense considering the only reason I’m even married to him is to bring him down. And yet, my body throbs for something I can’t quite put into words.
“It’s true,” Kira confirms. “But all that matters is we’re together now, and life is pretty good.”
I nod, making a mental note to share this detail with Deidre. I consider pumping Kira for more details but think better of it. The night is young, still plenty of time to get them talking.
Kira leans heavily into my side. “I know the whole arranged marriage thing is weird, but Daniil is crazy about you, I can tell.”
I shrug and reach for the mocktail I’d ordered earlier, stirring the drink with a straw. “It’s been an adjustment,” I admit. Total understatement.
She nods knowingly. “It’ll take time. These arranged mafia marriages are kind of nuts.”
Beside Kira, Alyona leans towards us, having picked up the tail end of our conversation. “Now what is this about arranged marriages?”
I laugh. “We’re talking about me. I assume you are a modern and liberated woman, free to do whatever you please?”
Alyona’s beautiful arched eyebrows pull together. She looks like she’s fresh off a catwalk with her feline features, lithe body, and insane style. In the limo on the way here, she’d explained how she lives in Paris as a fashion buyer for a major European luxury store but visits her brother and sister-in-law in New York whenever she can.
“I have no plans to get married, and if I did, it definitely would not be to someone connected to the brotherhood,” she says, her eyes growing dark as her ruby lips fall into a frown. “I stay far away from all this nasty business.”
Alyona holds her body tense; something about this conversation has struck a nerve, maybe because her father died in the line of duty, having served Daniil’s father when he was the pakhan.
Rowan throws her arm around Alyona and smiles. “My super independent sister-in-law, if you only knew what you were missing. Marriage is notallwork… there’s lots of play as well.” Rowan flashes a devious smile, her red hair spilling around her shoulders like the vixen I suspect she is.
“Oh my god, enough talk of marriage.” Georgia stands, flipping her nearly black waves behind her shoulder. “Tonight is about us, not them. And I think it’s time we broke a sweat. Down there.” She points to the mass of writhing bodies on the dance floor below. It’s like a snake pit when compared to the sparse and orderly dance floor in the VIP room.
But it certainly looks more fun… not that I’m here to have fun.
All eyes land on Georgia.
“You sure that’s a good idea?” Alyona looks doubtful. “Might Andrei have something to say about that?”
“He might.” Georgia’s Cheshire grin suggests she doesn’t care. “But he’s not here. Besides, it’s his club, only someone on a suicide mission would try anything here. And don’t forget our ever-present shadows.” She gestures to the half dozen guards surreptitiously surrounding us.
“I like it!” Rowan pipes up. I can practically see the devil horns sprouting from the side of her head. These women are trying to goad their husbands on purpose, and not only do I like their style, but it gives me an idea.
Running my hands down the length of my miniature sequined dress, I announce to the group that I’ll be back in a moment, and head towards the luxuriously appointed ladies’ room, all smoky mirrors, gold accents and dark velvet wallpaper. There is a full-length mirror on one side of the restroom, and I take a moment to pose, finding the perfect position that shows off my assets. My legs aren’t in fact long, but this itty-bitty dress and sky-high heels give the appearance of length, and of course, Daniil never got to see the plunging neckline on this sparkly number. Perhaps it wouldn’t be quite as revealing on someone else, but with my curvy figure, the dress looks sexy as hell. Something Daniil will not appreciate judging by our earlier exchange.
Having found just the right pose in the mirror, I snap a selfie, and text it to Daniil. No words needed. He wanted to know what I was wearing tonight, here’s his answer. I smile to myself. Let him try to ignore that! I might be a few drinks in—especially if I count the champagne we had in the limo—but it’s not liquid courage fueling me right now. I’m sending him a message that he can’t freeze me out.
Arriving back at the table, Georgia greets me with a sweep of her hand. “You’re just in time,” she announces, gesturing to the fresh round of shots on the table. “It’s called the Big O.”
“That’s certainly how I hope my night’s going to end,” Alyona quips. As the only other single woman in our group, Kira throws her arm around her friend’s shoulder, agreeing in not-so-subtle terms.
I hesitate for a moment. What’s one more measly shot? This one seems more like dessert anyhow. It’s creamy and a little pepperminty, and it goes down so damn smooth, I can’t say no when Georgia thrusts the next shot in my hand.
We stake a claim on the dance floor right under the DJ booth—I swear I can feel each drop of the bass shoot up my spine. I’ve been to state dinners and refined cocktail parties with my uncle, but this is something else entirely. This club is full of people letting loose, relinquishing their inhibitions, allowing the music to wash away their Monday-to-Friday worries.
When I look around at our group, everyone’s cheeks are flushed, arms up in the air, eyes closed with big smiles on their faces. And so I join them—enjoying this moment to the fullest. I don’t think about what comes next, or my endgame, or how I need to ply them with more drinks and pump them for information.
Stretching my arms up to the ceiling, I completely let go, screaming into the wall of sound, jumping up and down with Kira’s arm around my shoulders, her laughter in my ear. We’re swept up in the same euphoria, and it feels better than I could ever have imagined. I missed out on years of this living with my uncle, so I will make up for it right now. Fuck it.
With the music a deafening roar, my hair plastered to my forehead, surrounded by hundreds of people, it all sinks in, in one perfectly clear moment.
