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“Is that right? Is this a test? Do you need a demonstration?”
I love that shy little look she gives me. “It's just that scar on his cheek. Oh, and the fact that he's always wearing that black leather jacket. He's easily fifty pounds heavier than you, and he doesn't mind carrying weapons everywhere he goes. People scatter like scared little mice in his wake. What's his nickname?"
"The Iron Fist.”
"You guys seriously do not fu – mess around, do you?"
I shake my head when we pull up to my childhood home, where my mother’s hosting the gala.
This is the first gala we've ever hosted here in the absence of my father. No wonder my mother is so worried.
"You didn't tell me she lived in Manhattan! This place is beautiful." Her eyes shine as she takes it all in. It’s a wintry feast for the eyes with ice sculptures showcased with spotlights and a well-kept winter garden. I happen to know for a fact that my mother and Polina have been hard at work making sure every single detail was perfect before tonight's event.
“Show me around?”
“Of course.”
But before we even make it inside, a silver limo pulls up right beside me.Jesus Christ.
“Lemme guess,” she says with a sour look on her face. “Volkov. I can tell just by the way your eyes look murderous.”
"I also don't need to tell you not to look at him, or talk to him," I say, in a low, warning voice. "Right?"
"Yeah, definitely not."
Before we got here, I got a message from Lev detailing how he knows Volkov suspects that I am trying to get my new wife pregnant. Apparently, he's put bugs in place at every local OB's office, and even made sure that pharmacies that sell pregnancy tests are out of stock. Volkov’s aging tendencies are beginning to show. First of all, we're not meeting an OB at any old office. And I would never buy a test from a fucking pharmacy.
Most importantly, though, he has to know that my wifeisgoing to carry my baby, and there’s nothing he can do about it. I've warned him, and he knows better than to cross me.
"Good evening, Mikhail.” His oily voice mars the crisp evening air. I take Aria and hold her to my side.
“What have we here? Your beautiful wife. I have to admit, I didn't think she'd marry someone like you." He gives Aria a sardonic grin. "How much did he pay you, beautiful?"
"Ignore him," I say through clenched teeth, noting the pink flare of heat on Aria's cheeks. She turns away from him with a haughty expression on her face and begins to walk away.
"Don't you dare turn your back on me," Volkov snaps. “It seems Mikhail hasn’t taught you manners.”
In three steps I'm in his space, my hand wrapped around his scrawny neck. Three of his guards immediately come after me, when my brothers step out of the shadows.
Nikko holds a wicked blade. Lev, a pistol. Viktor stands with a towering presence, daring anyone to start something the night of the gala. He needs no weapons. I continue to hold Volkov by the throat and press him against his limo.
"I warned you, old man. You’ll speak with respect to my wife. I don't care who you are, if you talk to her again tonight, you're going down. If your men try to defend you, we'll have a battle on our hands. Do you really want to do that right now?"
This gala is the Romanov family’s night. If his family causes a scene at this event, it will have the exact opposite effect on the local people that us hosting it has. Where others see us as philanthropists, keystone members of the community, if he does anything to start violence against us, he will be blackballed and ostracized from the community.
There is only so much that money can buy.
He practically spits fire at me but doesn’t respond. I continue. “The only olive branch you're getting is the fact that you're still breathing. Do you really want to play this card? So soon?”
This man is responsible for my father's death. This man made any woman who came near me a target. I know for a fact that he'll stop at nothing to hurt Aria, or our unborn child. I need to stop that before he even gets one toe in the door.
Other guests begin to arrive in limos and armored SUVs. There's a rush of dresses, the click of high heels, the scent of luxury in the air when I finally let Volkov go. He shrugs me off and brushes his clothes, as if removing any fragments of dust that cling to him from my hands.
Soon, I've forgotten Volkov and his insidious presence when I bring Aria to my mother. My mother glides across the ballroom effortlessly, engaging in conversation with anyone and everyone. Every time she sees Aria, she smiles, and at one point she blows a kiss at her.
"Okay, I love your mom." She eyes the wine on the table and then decides instead to drink water.
"Champagne, madam?"
