“I like her style,” Viktor said, brushing past a display of handbags that cost more than the rent on my old apartment. He picked one up, the tiniest little brown monogrammed cross-body thing, and turned it over like it offended him. “What can you even fit in this?”
“It’s big enough for a phone,” the sales associate murmured diplomatically.
Viktor scoffed. “If I can’t use it to smuggle a gun or a bottle of booze, it’s not worth that price.”
Mikhail sighed. “Focus. We are not here to embarrass ourselves.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” I retorted. “I’m enjoying it.”
The sales associate, a woman with perfect eyeliner and a perfectly neutral expression, turned to me. “Miss, can I show you some pieces from our latest collection?”
My first thought was to say no.
Then I caught sight of myself in one of the mirrored panels. Still a little damp from my shower that morning. A little too freshly sore from Mikhail’s hands on my skin. A little too aware of Viktor watching me like he was envisioning me on my back in his bed.
And then there was Andrei, the youngest brother whom I hadn’t really gotten to know yet, but was curious enough to want to find out.
Maybe I did need clothes.
“Show me something I could run in,” I said. “Or stab someone in without the seams ripping.”
Her composure almost cracked. Almost.
“I think we can find something for you,” she said.
While she drifted away to pull options, I caught Andrei’s reflection beside mine. He was leaning against the wall across from me, arms folded, all relaxed charm on the surface. His eyes, though, were curious, although wary.
“You don’t have to babysit me,” I commented.
“I’m not,” he replied. “I’m just observing you.”
“That’s worse.”
He smiled. “You don’t like being watched?”
“Depends on who’s watching and why.”
“Is that so?”
“Mmm-hmm.”
“Interesting.”
The associate returned with several gowns draped over her arm: a sleek black one, a deep blue satin wrap dress, and a softer champagne one that looked like something a princess would wear to seduce a diplomat into giving up state secrets.
I brushed my fingers over the fabric. “These are all too pretty to ruin with blood.”
Viktor appeared behind me. “That’s the nice thing about money,” he said. “You can just buy another one after you’re done with the stabbing.”
The associate made a small choking sound.
“Viktor,” Mikhail said sharply.
“What?” Viktor protested. “I’m not wrong.”
I held up the black dress. Straight lines. Deep V. Dangerous.
“I’ll try this one,” I said.
