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For once, I’m starting to think that if this is the man I’m stuck with for the rest of my life, I might be just fine.
16
PYOTR
The house is bustling with activity as I stand in the foyer, watching the florists arrange armfuls of flowers into vases that come up to my chest.
“Where would you like the ice carving, sir?” asks a man wearing a navy baseball cap and matching uniform as he looks down at his clipboard, pen in hand.
“Ice carving?” I glance toward the front door to see a life-sized swan cut from ice being rolled in on a cart.Dear God.“Uh, how about near the front of the buffet tables?” I suggest.
Whythisis our priority, as opposed to focusing our efforts on ending the conflict with the Zhivoder Bratva, is beyond me. But seeing as I’m notpakhanyet, it’s not my call.
My mother booked an at-home spa day for herself, Mila, and Silvia, leaving me in charge of the final preparations for the party tonight, along with running a few errands. So, while the girls get the full treatment–massages, manis, pedis, a full hair and makeup appointment–all done at our manor, I see to the last-minute questions and manage the extravagant decorations my mother has ordered to celebrate my betrothal in high society.
Glancing at my watch, I’m relieved to find we’re just a few hours away from the start of the party, which means the girls’ hair and makeup should be done right about now. Relinquishing my duties to our butler, I head to my room and collect the three elegantly wrapped boxes of various sizes I’ve had tucked away for Silvia.
Then I make my way toward her room.
From the scuffling sounds beyond her door, I’d wager she’s finished with the rest of her preparations, so I knock.
“Coming!” she calls, her muffled voice harried.
A moment later, Silvia cracks the door just wide enough for me to see her face. I’m stunned to find her hair piled on top of her head, cascading down in stunning waves that make her luscious locks bounce and shine. Fine mahogany wisps frame her face in delicate curls, drawing my attention to her feminine jawline.
Her makeup is just as flattering. Done up in a subtle palette, it emphasizes the green of her hazel eyes and the glow of her cheeks without overwhelming or masking her natural beauty.
“Pyotr!” she gasps, a striking smile spreading across her face.
It draws my attention to the fact that her lips are a darker shade of red than usual and tantalizingly full.
“Busy?” I ask, noting that, though she seems happy to see me, she hasn’t opened her door even a fraction wider.
“Oh, um, no–I mean, yes. Well, kind of. I was trying to find an appropriate dress for this evening. I… hadn’t expected us to do anything quite this formal,” she confesses.
The hint of a blush surfaces beneath her makeup, and I immediately get the urge to tell her to go wash her face. Because I fucking love watching the way her cheeks turn a perfect shade of pink when she’s embarrassed or shy. But I suppress the urge. I’m sure telling her to wash her face would only hurt her feelings–regardless of the reason behind it.
“Well, I won’t keep you long then,” I say slyly. “But I brought you a gift.” I raise the good-sized box until the glittery red bow and silver wrapping catches her eye.
“Oh, Pyotr! You shouldn’t have!” She glances behind her as if questioning whether she should invite me in.
Now I’m getting curious as to just what’s going on inside her bedroom. “Mind if I come in?” I press, taking a step forward.
“Um. Well, of course. It’s just… I’m not really dressed.”
An appreciative growl escapes my throat, and I can’t help but glance down, though the door blocks everything below her neck.
“Not like that!” she practically screeches, her cheeks turning a deeper red despite the makeup. “Oh, just come in,” she huffs, grabbing my arm and hauling me inside.
She closes the door behind me, and I turn to find her encased in a plush terry cloth robe. As soon as my eyes land on her, she pulls the edges tighter and tugs the belt until it’s snug around her waist.
“I must confess, I’m a little disappointed,” I tease.
“I warned you I wasn’t dressed,” she scolds.
“Yeah, but I kind of had a different image in my head.”
“Knock it off, or I’m kicking you out.”
