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Talia claims she’s saved her virginity for me, but I think the truth is that no one dared take it.
I go to my suite to change into my gray suit while Dmitri makes sure everything outside is in place. I decided to entertain her on the terrace by the garden, so she can’t break anything, or worse, refuse to leave the house. I toss the shirt I’ve only had on for two hours onto my bedroom floor and enter my walk-in closet. The wound on my shoulder catches my eye. It was stitched by our surgeon. And even he admired Paige’s ingenuity.
I wonder how far her ingenuity extends. She acts as if she has no knowledge of the Bratva, but the woman can patch a wound.
My fresh shirt slides over my skin, and I think about her hand pressed against my chest. She barely whimpered and held her shit together as we were shot at by a speeding jeep. She’s bravery mixed with vulnerability.
Maybe she is innocent. Maybe it’s not an act. She’s done nothing but tell me the truth so far.
But there’s something else about her that I can’t put my finger on, and Iknowthere’s something else she’s not telling me.
I check my watch and head downstairs as Talia enters the main foyer. She beams as she sees me, and I wonder if she’s expecting a formal proposal today. Or a ring. I have a ring, but it won’t end up on her finger. Talia is dressed in the typical Bratva princess dress. Low cut but tasteful, fitted around the waist, and draped over the hips. Her long legs are showing off on a pair of designer heels.
The guard takes her purse and checks it.
“Always cautious, my dear Andrushka.” Her voice radiates with practiced sweetness. “It is so good to see you, and thank you for inviting me over.” She leans into me. Her lips brush mine softly as she presses her breasts against me. “You have my condolences, but we must continue to live our lives the best we can.”
She runs her hand over the marble-top console. Is she appraising the furniture or picking out what to keep and what to toss?
“The garden.” I hold up a hand and gesture in the direction of the terrace.
“Have you been redecorating?” she asks. “Or perhaps it’s your mother, Eva?”
“I made a few changes after the funeral.” The smirk on my face causes her to pause.
“How is Eva holding up? I should come visit her.”
“She wants privacy right now,” I reply, knowing my mother’s feelings.
Talia smiles tightly and continues out the French door. She clasps her hands together as she surveys the setting. A table set for two, draped in white silk and dripping with yellow roses. Talia bounces toward the table and waits for me to pull out her chair. I ordered the best possible meal for the occasion. Lobster and white wine.
The waiter pours the wine into our glasses. She gobbles down the lobster, breaking it with her hands while talking about our future.It’s time.
“Talia, earlier you said we must continue to live our lives the best we can.”
“I did, Andrushka. After we marry, I will do whatever I need to do to help you forget the past.” She lifts her glass toward me, but mine stays on the table.
“Unfortunately, we must go our separate ways to live our best lives.”
She slowly lowers her glass. “What do you mean by ‘separately’?” Talia looks over at the house. “Are we living in separate wings?”
I shake my head. “You won’t be living here at all.”
“I understand that your late father had many mistresses. I understand that men in your position often do. As your wife, will I have a house in the neighborhood?”
“Doubtful. Your father can’t afford it.”
There’s a glint in her eye as her breaths shorten. Her chest rises and falls as she begins to understand my meaning.
“We are supposed to be getting married,” her voice strains. “Andrei Vasilyevich.”
I shake my head. “Not anymore. I will be marrying someone else. Someone that’s not you.”
“What? Why? Have you spoken to my father?”
“I have, and I told him I would tell you.”
“I don’t believe you.” She grabs her phone from her purse. The call goes straight to voice mail. The coward.
