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“With everyone except my father.”
Pretty sure my cheeks are turning red. Pretty sure it’s all the more obvious considering all the freaking white in this room. There’s an ocean of white, Bee’s bright fuchsia toenails, and then me, ripening like a cherry tomato.
“It’s much less hard than it would have been if I didn’t know the truth,” I admit sheepishly. “But twisted as it all sounds to me, I’m glad you’re marrying Dmitri if it means you’re safe from your father.”
She smiles. “You’re right… That is twisted.”
Laughing, I poke her in the arm. But the laughter dies down almost immediately. “Bee?”
“Hm?”
“How is this going to work?”
She sighs. “You know what? More often than not, I have no clue. But don’t you worry: Dmitri will take care of us.”
“You’re confident.”
Pushing herself up onto one elbow, she levels me with a stern, solemn gaze. “I’ve known him for almost three decades, Wren. I know the man. He doesn’t take shortcuts, especially not when it comes to protecting his own. He’ll take care of us. Always.”
Something warm spreads through me when she says that. She believes it. She believes him.
So maybe it’s okay to let myself do the same.
The curtains draw apart and Tanya appears long enough to let Dmitri walk in. He looks pained at having to be here at all.
“Have you picked a dress yet?” he asks, throwing a cursory glance over at the rack of gowns.
“I think so.” Bee hauls herself off the couch. “Need to talk to Tanya first. ‘Scuse me. Champagne’s coming with me, though.”
The bottle dangles from her fingertips as she slips out of the dressing suite. I watch her go and then, just like that, I find myself alone with Dmitri.
He seems just as taken aback as I am. Or maybe I’m just projecting. Maybe he’s not taken aback at all. Maybe he’s just annoyed.
Is he going to mention anything about last night? Should I bring it up? Are we supposed to pretend it didn’t happen?
The air around us is charged and crackling, like there’s a silent conversation being had in the space between us—though who’s participating in it and what they might be saying is way beyond me.
After a pregnant pause, he walks over and sits down on the sofa. But there’s far too much space between us. Too much to assume that an honest conversation is forthcoming, at least.
“She’s going to make a beautiful bride,” I murmur, if only because I’m sick of the silence.
Dmitri doesn’t respond. He just sits there, staring off at the rack of dresses like he can see through them.
Just when I’ve given up on him, he speaks without actually looking at me. “You’ll need a dress yourself.”
“I have dresses.”
“A new one. An evening dress.”
“That’s okay. I don’t?—”
“Tanya will help you,” he interrupts in the same lifeless monotone. “Pick one and put it on my tab.”
I stare back at him. Even if he won’t look at me, I’m not shying away from him. Not anymore. “Thanks, but no thanks. This is not about me. This is about Bee. And you.”
It’s hard to place it when I can only see his profile, but something ripples across his eyes. “You know that there is no Bee and me.” His voice is just as soft and hollow, but for the first time, there’s emotion in it. I can’t place it any better than I can the expression on his face, though.
I swallow. “You know, I think what you’re doing for Bee is amazing.”
