Now I know I was right.
I’m steeling myself to go back inside when someone turns the corner, bumping directly into me, then steadying me with a hand on my shoulder. I brush it off without thinking, and when I look to see who I’ve collided with, it’s a man I vaguely recognize.
“Forgive me,” he says, and I squint at him. He’s an Orlov, I know, but I can’t exactly put my thumb on which one.
“Beautiful ceremony, by the way. Congratulations.”
“Thank you,” I say, and am about to walk past him, effectively ending the conversation when he goes on.
“You know, I was starting to think nobody would be able to put up with that mean cousin of mine. But then came you, the meanest person in Boston.”
Cousinrings a bell, and I remember in an instant who he is: Nikolai Orlov. He’s younger than Maxim, but still older than me—maybe thirty. He’s as tall as Nate, though much shorter than my now husband. Tall-ish. And less broad, almost willowy in comparison to Maxim.
“He’s not so mean once you know him,” I say. I don’t deny my own asserted meanness.
“Yes, well, that’s always been his problem. He could serve to be meaner.” He winks and smiles like it’s a fun joke for us to share. He’s calling out weaknesses of my own husband at his very wedding, and to his bride no less. I tilt my head and step closer, about to put him in his place when his eyes go over my shoulder and his smile widens.
“Marianna,” someone says from behind me, and I know without looking it’s Maxim. No one calls me that but him, forone, and his presence in any room is tangible. His hand settles on my lower back as he stands beside me, and now we are two against his cousin’s snake-like one.
“I was just meeting your cousin,” I say, though my voice lacks the warmth my sister would say it should for an introduction.
“Ah. Nikolai, this is my wife.”
“A pleasure,Marianna.”
“Mary,” Maxim and I correct in unison. I note that even Maxim knows that my full name is for next to no one.
There’s something serious in Maxim’s stare at Nikolai, a warning.
“Well, Mary. I’d love to show you around sometime.”
“I know Boston,” I say. Maxim’s hand slides from my back to my hip, pulling me lightly to his side, which is warm against my bare arm.
“Yes, but the Orlov’s Boston, I think you’ll find, is a touch more exciting than the one you know.”
I don’t dignify this with a response, nor do I shake the hand he holds out for me. I cross my arms over my chest until he drops it back to his side.
Nikolai mutters what I assume to be his congratulations in Russian before excusing himself to return to the festivities.
“So that’s the snake,” I say as soon as it’s just the two of us in the hall. Maxim sighs and his hand on my waist relaxes before falling away from me entirely.
“Nikolai wants nothing more than for me to die an early death without an heir,” Maxim says, his lips set into a strong line.
“And you don’t kill him?” I ask as quietly as I can. A waiter with a tray of glasses emerges from the kitchen door and brushes past us.
Maxim nods to the big main room, where I return with him. Though there are more people here, it’s louder, harder tooverhear sensitive conversations. I watch his throat bob in a swallow before he gathers me closer to him. I’m sure we look more like a happy couple sharing a private moment in the midst of the chaos of their wedding than me demanding why he lets a man live.
“It’s not so simple. His father was my uncle, and he and my father were close. They ran the Orlov empire together.”
“So he was a piece of shit too, then,” I say, and Maxim’s mouth tilts up in a lopsided smirk.
“Yes. The apple doesn’t fall far for Nikolai. He believes not all of my changes were for the benefit of the family.”
“Sounds like Cillian,” I muse, my blood heating at the memory of his betrayal. After so many years playing the part of a member of the family, he was just waiting for his moment to attack.
“I could kill him for you. Wedding present,” I say, and I do mean it. I feel indebted and grateful to Maxim for marrying a volatile woman who has claimed she can never love him, even if he’s just in need of this arrangement as I am.
To our left, a flash goes off, the photographer buzzing around us and the party. Maxim brings his mouth very close to my ear, close enough to feel his breath on my skin.
