“Only because he was smart enough to introduce himself before I put a bullet through his chest.”
My stomach drops. Breakfast instantly curdles. I look up at him fully.
“Really?”
He ignores my tone entirely. “The Orlando charity ball is tonight. We’ll attend together.”
My breath stutters.
Of course. A charity auction where my family used to hold influence.
The symbolism is painfully clear—he’s parading his triumph. Showing the world he owns the Laurents now.
“I don’t want to go.”
“I don’t remember asking, Vivian. Be ready by five.”
He stands and walks away, and I swear I almost throw my glass at the back of his stupid, arrogant head.
I push away from the table and march straight to my room, heart pounding so hard it feels like it’s trying to punch out of my chest. As soon as I shut the door, I grab my phone and dial Elara with shaky fingers.
She picks up on the second ring. “Vivian?”
“Elara,” I groan, pacing. “Dimitri wants us to go to the Orlando charity ball tonight. I don’t want to. I really don’t want to.”
“Okay…” she says slowly, calm as ever. “Why don’t you want to go?”
“Because the whole city will be there!” My voice cracks. “No one knows about the auction, Elara. They’ll think I married Dimitri on my own. They’ll expect romance, smiles, hand-holding. I can’t even stand the guy, let alone pretend we’re in love in public!”
“You can do it, Viv,” she says softly. “Just try, okay? Holding hands. A kiss on the cheek. That’s all. Surely you can manage that.”
It’s not that I can’t.
It’s that I don’t want to.
“It’s hard, Elara. I hate him so much.”
She lets out a sympathetic sigh. “I’ll be there for you. Okay? We’ll all be there. Roman, Nikolai, Lev. The wives too. I don’t think you’ve met everyone properly.”
“I’m not sure they even like me,” I mutter. “At the wedding, no one spoke to me except you and Sasha.”
“I promise they’re all nice girls,” she says. “Really. You already know Sasha. The rest are just as sweet. They were all just…shocked at the wedding. It was so quick, and Dimitri didn’t tell them until the day before.”
I stop pacing and sit on the bed, rubbing my forehead. “Okay. I feel better knowing you’ll be there.”
“Good.” She pauses. Then her tone shifts—low, conspiratorial, almost wicked.
“Now listen. Dress to kill, Vivian. You’re going to be on Dimitri’s arm. Trust me—you want to be drop-dead gorgeous and have the cameras on you. Not him. Make him see you.”
A slow, conflicted warmth curls in my stomach at the thought.
Make him see me.
God help me—I want that a little too much.
***
By five, Kyle walks me to the garage. Dimitri is already there, waiting, his stance casual but deliberate. My friends have told me a thousand times that red is my color, so tonight, I chose red. The dress is flirtatious, provocative, but elegant—everything I want to say without speaking.
