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“I didn’t say that,” I snarl. “I have guests waiting for me. I don’t have time to clean blood out from under my fingernails.”
Piper wraps both hands around mine, and she is all but dragging me to the door. But I don’t budge. Not yet.
“I’ll make you a deal, Rodion.”
“Anything,” he says eagerly. “Name it and it’s yours.”
“Bring me the Albanian responsible for Emily’s death, and I’ll believe your story. I’ll welcome you back into the Bratva and my good graces without another question.”
Enthusiasm drains out of him. “But I—I’ve talked to the Albanians. I’ve tortured men to death. There isn’t anything to find there.”
I nod. “Fine. Then I’ll kill you with my own hands. Payback for Emily’s death. No less than you deserve.”
He is stuck between a rock and a hard place and he knows it. But the rock is instant death and the hard place lets him maintain a heartbeat. Wisely, Rodion accepts the offer.
“I’ll find out whatever I can. I’ll bring you proof I didn’t do this,” he says.
“Good. But in the meantime,” I point to the door, “get out of my fucking house.”
Rodion doesn’t hesitate. He bows his head one last time and then hurries around us, giving Piper a wide berth.
87
PIPER
Once, I dreamed I was living in my dentist’s office and went to swim lessons in the lobby. The receptionist was my mom and she had wings like an angel.
Stepping out of Timofey’s office and back into the party feels a lot like that. Like moving through the incoherent stages of a dream. Nothing makes any sense, but I’m expected to smile and wave at guests after spending the last five minutes talking to a potential murderer.
“If you don’t get some color in your cheeks, people are going to think you’re scared of me.” Timofey pulls me into his chest as the music shifts into a slow song, almost as if he timed it this way. I wouldn’t be surprised if he did.
“Maybe I am.”
A frown pinches his brows together. His blue eyes are sapphire tonight, shimmering in the light from the candles that have been placed in the center of all the tables. “I told you I’d protect you.”
“There are lots of different reasons to be scared,” I say softly.
I’m terrified of what I feel when Timofey is touching me.
I’m terrified that a man like Rodion might try to make a move against him.
Most of all, I’m terrified that this is all fake. That the way he is looking at me now, with adoration and warmth, is all a facade. I’m terrified that the clock will strike midnight and this moment will shatter into a million, irreconcilable pieces.
Timofey cups my face in his hand and strokes my cheekbone. “Turn off your brain. Be here with me for a few minutes. You’re in a stunning dress, I’m in a tux—”
“Also stunning,” I say, smoothing my hand down his sleeve. I can feel the flex and pull of his muscles as he molds our bodies together.
“Agreed. So let’s be two incredibly stunning people at a stunning event,” he says with a smirk. “For a minute, forget everything else and just be here with me.”
For reasons I can’t fully explain, tears spring into my eyes. Before he can see them, I press my cheek against his chest and sway with the music.
I promised Noelle I’d try to get away tonight. I told her I’d try to escape.
Does this look like escape?
I think not. If anything, I'm even deeper into this mess now than I was two hours ago.
“You’re tense.” He squeezes my arms and then forces them around his waist. “Do I need to help you relax?”
