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I trail after him. “But we’re not done talking.”
“You may not be. But I am.” With that, he closes the door on me.
23
MISHA
Paige’s personal maid stares at me with huge, nervous eyes and a pained expression on her face.
“Do you have Paige’s list?” I ask.
Rada twists her silver rings around her knuckles. “I asked, but… Ms. Masters—”
“Mrs. Orlov,” I correct. “You might as well get used to her new name now.”
Rada swallows. “Mrs. Orlov said she could shop for herself, sir. She said she didn’t like handing lists to people.”
I drag a hand through my hair. Must everything be a fucking fight with this woman? No wonder so many men prefer not to marry. Wives, it seems, are nothing but ceaseless migraines.
“Tell her that if she doesn’t hand over her list within the hour, then I’ll stock her drawers and closets with whatever I see fit. Make it clear to her she will not like what I choose.”
Rada’s eyes go wide with alarm. “You want me to say that to her, sir?”
“Word for word.”
Rada gulps, nods slowly, and heads out of my office. She knows better than to ask questions twice.
I hear Konstantin bungling around in the hallway, his voice thick with the oily charm he spews at any woman within arm’s reach.
“How’s it hanging, angel?”
Rada, to her credit, doesn’t respond.
A second later, Konstantin steps into my office and repeats the question to me, minus the flirtatious undertones and the term of endearment.
“Give me an update on the acquisition,” I say by way of response.
He sighs mournfully. “Must everything be business with you all the time? I’m not here as your second; I’m here as your cousin.”
“Then get out.”
Konstantin just sighs again and kicks his feet up on my desk. “You missed dinner again last night.”
I shove his feet right off. “Was that last night? Must’ve slipped my mind.”
“I really expected you to be there last night,” Konstantin says, unbothered. “I really, truly did.”
“Why would you do that?”
He raises his eyebrows incredulously. “Um, bro—you’re getting married. Don’t you think that’s something you need to share with your family? With your mother, at least?”
“She’ll want to make it a big deal, I’m sure.”
“Gee, can’t imagine why! It generally is a big deal when the don of the Orlov Bratva takes a wife. Remember the extravaganza that was Maksim and Cyrille’s wedding?”
Do I remember? Of course I remember. I hadn’t seen my brother smile like that since we were boys. He… he loved her. You didn’t even have to ask him; you could just tell. The gleam in his eyes. The way his hand stayed plastered to her hip the whole night. How he fed her cake—gently, gentler than I’d ever seen him do anything in his whole fucking life—like the sweetness on her tongue was every bit as good as sweetness on his…
Out loud, I say, “That was different.”
