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“Must have. Come, I need to greet your uncle.” He moves quickly, yanking me away. He pulls me around by the waist for an hour or so, and then I escape to the bathroom. His touch makes me feel all fluttery when I certainly should not. When I leave the bathroom, thankfully, he’s not nearby.
I start making my own rounds. I talk to all my cousins, I laugh long and hard with my brothers and Z, I even chat with all the aunties. I hold the two newborns in the family and get down on my knees to greet every toddler that runs toward me. I gush about their pretty dresses and their latest toy or whatever they babble about.
I feel my Mamá’s eyes on me, and Mia’s too. I’m sure they expect me to be pregnant any day now already. That is—was? No. Is.— my dream, after all. But the dream will have to wait. I have to survive a divorce first, I guess.
I keep moving, happier and filling up with each greeting. I give more hugs and bicep punches and casual touches than is normal for me, because, I realize now, I’ve been desperately lonely. Beyond lonely, depressed. I guess I am someone who needs chatting, touching, joking.
When it comes time for Papá to give the toast, I join Mark and we join my family, as is expected. Again, my husband’s arm is around me in a way I have to try hard to ignore. After the toasts, everyone turns back to their own conversations.
One of Tío’s oldest enforcers walks up to Mark alongside a man who must be one of the Volotovs. He has their exact fair coloring and the same snaking tattoos up his neck. The men start talking and the Russian’s eyes skate all over me like I’m a fresh ice-skating rink. It’s cold and cutting and I hate it. I’ve felt that sort of perusal before. But I can’t let my disgust show of course. I hold myself tall so I don’t accidentally tremble. I smile and nod along with them only half-listening. Eventually the Russian speaks up.
“Sorry to have missed the wedding, Senator,” He draws in a thick accent, still eyeing me. “But very nicely done. Always fun to take a clan’s pretty queen and make her your own dirty little whore, no?”
Mark rubs his index finger over his wide, perfect smile. “I’m sorry, what did you just say?” I tense, waiting for him to give a Russian enforcer a verbal lashing like he did the photographer. This will not end well.
“Did I stutt—“
Mark punches him swiftly in the face before he can finish his question. I jerk my head back in shock as my jaw drops.
Mark just hit a Volotov!
The Russian bounces back immediately, and Mark ducks his punch, faster than should be humanly possible. He elbows the blond-haired killer in what looks like his kidneys. Volotov cries out but also turns with a gun he pulled out of nowhere. In one step, Mark disarms him and throws the gun on the ground. I couldn’t even catch it all with my eyes, he did it so fast. Suddenly, a whole group of men have their guns out.
Mark lifts his hands with a casual smirk and actually hitches a shoulder.Is he insane?“He called a Delgado lady a whore in front of her husband.” He says loud and clear, though still freakishly calm. The silence and stillness is electric. No one dares breathe.
“Bring them both over here.” Tío quickly says, sounding annoyed. The room slowly dissolves back into chatter as a group of men take Mark and the Volotov over to the head table. I collapse against a nearby wall, catching my breath.
“Ellie?” I don’t hear it at first. Then I feel the warmth of his touch on my arm. Zeno studies me. “Ellie, are you alright?” I nod. “Come on, let’s go find you some water.”
CHAPTER 18
Mark
Robbie: WTF
Mark: Don’t freak out
Robbie: Too late
Robbie: I repeat
Robbie: WTF
Zander: I have to agree
Van: ?
Zander: Mark punched Sig Volotov
Gialo: Hell yes!
Van: I’m torn.
Mark: It was a standard reaction. Any man in that room, after his wife had been insulted that way, had to react.
Robbie: You struck, evaded and disarmed a Russian enforcer in under ten seconds
Van: Ok. I agree with Gialo. Very nice.
