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“That’s fun.”
Her brows pinch together. “I had a front row seat. It was an honor.”
It’s painfully transparent that she’s trying to flaunt her status. Like a cat lying on its back, revealing its claws, she wants me to see how important she is and how scared of her I ought to be.
I nod and take a sip of my beverage. If I wasn’t pregnant, I’d be two glasses deep into something that would make me forget I ever cared about impressing these people.
“Have you been to any shows recently?” she presses.
“Never, actually.”
She raises her eyebrows and glances at the older woman whose name I still don’t remember. “That’s unforgivable. I’ll have to bring you with me sometime.”
I may not know this world well, but I know female cattiness when I see it. That’s not unique to the Bratva.I can get you into exclusive shows. I can show you the ropes.
I have no desire to learn Isidora’s ropes.
“Your kindness would be wasted on me,” I tell her with a smile. “I have no eye for fashion. The only reason I show up to work in anything remotely appropriate is because Misha does the shopping for me.”
She blinks at me as if I’m speaking another language. “Your husband buys your clothes?”
“He’s got a knack for it. I’ve always had more of a head for numbers and business.”
“A head for business?” Isidora raises one thin eyebrow. “That’s a new one.”
“Women in business is hardly a new concept.”
“Yes, but you are first and foremost a Bratva wife,” she says.
“I am first and foremost my own person,” I correct. “I like the work I do.”
Isidora studies me for a moment and then nods, some realization washing over her. “I’m sure it’s also a good way to keep an eye on your man. Especially a man like Misha. They do tend to wander if you aren’t careful, don’t they?”
I give her a cold smile. “My husband is a handsome man, but I don’t work at Orion to police him. I happen to trust him.”
Both women laugh until they realize that I’m not laughing with them.
I give them both a curt smile. “I trust Misha, but I also trust that I am more than enough woman for my man. He doesn’t need anyone else.”
As I turn away from their shocked expressions and mingle back into the crowd, I know I may not have won their respect just yet. Not fully, at least.
But I gained something else.
Confidence.
49
MISHA
I’m leaning against the wall between the sitting room and the kitchen, watching my wife work a group of senior Vors on the patio, when Nikita comes to stand next to me.
“She’s doing well,” my sister observes.
The men laugh at something Paige has said. It’s not polite, pandering laughter, either. She’s genuinely said something funny.
“I never had any doubt.”
Nikita snorts. “Liar.”
