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I nod in a show of respect, but he doesn’t nod back as he turns around and leaves.
Kristina continues to stare at me, then at the door through which Lia left, her face remaining as emotionless as her father’s. As a mafia princess, she was born ready to be married within the brotherhood. Pretty and flawless, Kristina’s role in life is to bring honor to her father and become the obedient wife.
When Sergei suggested this alliance a year ago, I didn’t see why not, especially since Igor and his brigade are surrounded by a high wall no one can penetrate. I thought this would bring me closer to his methodical reign.
If I had to marry one day, Kristina seemed like the safest and most logical choice.
I can see the doubts on her face, but she doesn’t voice them. She wasn’t raised to. For Kristina, being the obedient wife is everything that matters.
Unlike my Lenochka, whose feelings are usually written all over her face, Kristina’s are locked under a makeshift façade.
“If you’re keeping her as a mistress, let me know.” She fakes a smile. “Have a lovely night.”
And with that, she turns and leaves as if nothing happened.
It takes everything I have to continue with the dull event. While I loathe the empty socializing these parties are all about, I need the networking and information they provide.
However, it’s hard—almost impossible—to concentrate when I recall the shock and hurt in those blue eyes. Conjuring those emotions in her was everything that I initially strived for, but now it feels like a rusty knife in my gut.
After some thirty minutes of mindless talking to influential men whose only worth is their networks, my phone vibrates in my pocket. I excuse myself and check it.
Yan:She’s in the apartment.
I should take it out on him for not escorting her out soon enough, but it’s pointless. I couldn’t have kept her in the dark for too long.
Adrian:Stand guard.
Yan:Got it.
The night feels like a thousand years. Lia’s ballet producer comes to talk to me, introducing the French director. He says his prima ballerina is here somewhere, but he can’t find her.
And he never will.
After the night is finally over, I ignore the small gathering Sergei is having with the other leaders and leave. Kolya drives at high speed until I reach Lia’s apartment.
Yan blows smoke from his cigarette and nods from his position in front of the door. I motion at him to join Kolya downstairs, but he hesitates.
“What?” I don’t bother hiding my impatience.
“You said you’d talk about a new plan for Lazlo.”
“This isn’t the time to discuss that, Yan.”
“I’m just saying, we need to do something about this situation.” He tips his head toward the apartment door. “She didn’t seem to be doing so well.”
He leaves before I can say anything.
I put in the code and go inside.
The light flicks on as the door closes behind me.
“Is she really your fiancée?” Lia’s apathetic tone greets me. She’s standing at the entrance to the living room, crossing her arms over her chest and still wearing the blue dress that gives her a softer edge. Her face is flushed, but her eyes are ablaze with a mixture of volatile emotions.
I start removing my coat.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” she bites out.
“Why not?”
