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Stefan frowns, and a nagging feeling descends like a chill down my ribs, letting me know that something might be wrong.
“Excuse me.” I leave them and search for Andrei.
I don’t like the look on Stefan’s face, and if he’s up to something, I want it stopped now. All I want is a joyful night without drama and violence, and I’m not about to see it ruined by teenage hormones.
“Paige Geraldovna, good to see you.” A large hand grips my upper arm, and Popov greets me with a hearty hug. “May we speak?”
Distracted by his greeting, I nod as he leads me into the ballroom and almost outside through the French doors. “This is an impressive showing. You’ve done well for your first full event as Andrei’s wife. Any news?”
My lips form a thin line. “I don’t know anything about Sonya Igorovna. As far as I know, she’s gone underground.”
“Of course.” He strokes his bushy beard with his overgrown fingernails. “But there was something else. An unfortunate shooting?”
“I believe my husband. I wouldn’t be here talking to you if I didn’t.” I yank my arm out of his hand. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have other guests to greet.”
He bows his head. “Of course, Paige Geraldovna. Thank you for your hospitality.”
I hurry back into the mansion and follow the hallway past the ballroom. I rarely venture into this part of the house; it’s darker and quieter than the rest. Frankly, it gives me the creeps, like a spider slowly crawling up my spine. I expect to turn around and see something I don’t want to see.
The doors are open on the right, and I approach them cautiously, peeking into a massive dining room. The table down the center is so massive and wide that it looks like the room was built around it. How could it have ever gone past the doors? Instead of tall windows, the walls are covered in portraits of old men.
I don’t recognize any of their scowling faces except for one—Andrei’s late father.
“Have you spoken to anyone else?” a booming voice says.
Andrei lights a cigar for a man I don’t recognize. “I invited my closest friends for a night of celebration, not to talk business, Semenov.”
“It would be an honor to join our two families together.” The man poofs out a cloud of smoke. “I had hoped your father would have a daughter. But a sister-in-law is just as good.”
Andrei laughs. “We will talk, but I make no promises tonight. I’d like the girl to have some say. After all, we are in a new country and a new century.”
I back away little by little, unseen, and hurry down the hallway, unconcerned by my overwhelming fears. I only have one fear now—Emma. I thought she would have a choice, and now, I understand why Stefan looked so out of sorts.
I step into the kitchen to catch my breath when I spot Natasha standing by a window.
She’s dressed in the emerald gown, the same one that was on the rack the day I was forced to pick my wedding dress. The chill that races over my skin shakes my body, and I feel a sick taste in my mouth.
“Paige,so mnoi.” She places her champagne flute down on the windowsill. “Come look at Emma.”
Emma is beautiful in a poppy-colored dress that complements the colors of the autumn leaves. She’s on the terrace, dancing with a tall man about her age. He is handsome and moves gracefully, leading her across the dance floor. Emma laughs, and it breaks my heart to see her so happy.
Why did I agree to this?
“Thatis Avgustin, the grandson of Makar Bogdanov,” Natasha says. “Rumor has it his family is richer than the dwarf in the Kremlin. And more powerful as well. No one will touch Emma if she marries him.”
I place my hand on my stomach. “I should’ve told her.”
“You will tell her tomorrow,” she replies confidently. “Ask who she likes in a sisterly way. She doesn’t have to decide now. I had doubts about Andrei’s plan, but this is better than any of us could’ve expected.”
I stare at her profile; her eyes sparkle with pleasure, but Natasha doesn’t acknowledge me. The music ends, and Emma is approached by another young man, more handsome than the first. Natasha grins with delight as if she’s a fairy godmother and Emma is her in-demand protégé.
Andrei walks into the room, beaming with success as a wide smile shows off his perfect teeth. He takes me by the hand and spins me into his hard body.
“Dance with me,” he says in a husky voice, smelling of brandy. I hide my doubts behind a stretched smile and hope that I can talk to him on the dance floor.
***
Later, I can’t find Emma.
