Chapter 11
Devon held Addison close as the golf cart wound its way up the hill. She’d started throwing up almost as soon as they’d left the dock in Odesa and hadn’t stopped until a few minutes ago. Her complexion was still sallow, but she sipped on the sparkling water the porter had provided.
“You okay?” he asked.
She nodded against his shoulder but didn’t open her eyes.
He stared up at the castle on top of the hill. Spotlights lit it from the base of the walls, and it loomed forebodingly over them as they approached. There was even a fucking drawbridge.
They stopped in the inner courtyard, and he wrapped an arm around Addison’s waist as they passed through the huge door. It must have been a good two inches of solid wood.
The entry was opulent—gleaming hardwood floors, antique tables, gold leaf-framed beveled mirrors reflecting the light from the largest crystal chandelier he’d ever seen.
“Constance, darling! I’m so glad to see you!” An older woman entered from a room to the right, arms outstretched as she approached. Her graying hair was pulled up in a fancy hairstyle, and even Devon could tell her form-fitting dress was expensive.
“Tsarevna.” Connie greeted the woman with a kiss on each cheek, European style. “I can’t thank you enough for the last-minute invitation.”
“It was my pleasure. Although I was under the impression you no longer attended these soirees.”
“Business has kept me busy, but I still take in the occasional event. When I heard about this weekend, I canceled all my plans on the off chance you’d let me come.”
Tsarevna narrowed her eyes. “How did you find out about this weekend?”
“I still talk to Alexei.”
The woman’s face relaxed. “Ah, dear Alexei. Is he still trying to make an honest woman of you?”
Connie’s lips turned up into a mocking smile. “As if he could.”
Tsarevna smirked, then looked behind Connie. “Please, introduce me to your guests.”
“Of course. This is my dear friend Paige—we’ve known each other for ages. And this is Addison, my protégé.”
“Are you all right, dear? You look a little pallid.” Her lip curled up with distaste.
“A small bout of seasickness. She’ll be fine after a rest.”
Tsarevna didn’t look impressed. “Hmm.” She shifted her attention to the men. “And who are these fine specimens of manhood?”
“This is my stylist, Aiden,” Paige said. “I never buy anything pretty without his approval.”
Graham stepped forward, hand outstretched. Tsarevna held out her hand, and he grasped her fingers, bringing her knuckles to his lips.
“Absolutely delighted. My, you are fabulous.” He turned to Paige. “If her selection is as on point as her style, we should be able to find you something absolutely exquisite.”
Devon barely kept his eyebrows from going into his hairline. Graham had softened his voice and exaggerated his Southern drawl enough he could have given any blue-blooded Charleston socialite a run for her money. Guess that answered the question of how they were going to avoid having to pretend a sexual relationship.
Tsarevna bought it, placing her hand against her chest and simpering. “Oh, you are a flatterer.”
“Never.” Graham winked.
Devon almost threw up in his mouth, but schooled his expression when she gave him her attention.
“Mmmm. Please tell me you aren’t gay. I would be very disappointed.”
“No,” he said.
“I’ll have to carve out some time to take you to my playroom.” She ran a hand over his shoulder and down his arm.
