“I like making you blush. Among other things.”
“Might I remind you, we’re here for a reason, and if you keep this up, none of that is going to happen tonight.”
Other things will undoubtedly happen, but that damn contract ends everything tonight. Maybe we should just find a bathroom somewhere so we can get one last round in before this is all over. Then again, I’m not sure any amount of sex would be enough. I think Matvei has ruined me for anyone else. I’m so tempted to stay, but I can’t. Anything more, and I risk getting tangled up in a world I want to avoid at all costs. At some point, whatever part of that danger I find so alluring, so enticing, will turn into something frightening and sinister.
I’m saved from having to think anymore on the subject by the announcement that dinner is being served.
We follow the mouth-watering scent of food into a ballroom that makes people gasp—me included. The entire place is decorated like the gardens at Versailles—complete with topiaries, statues, and fountains. The ceiling has been painted to resemble a blush sky at sunset, with the first stars actually twinkling in the twilight.
“Holy crap,” I mutter. I don’t know where to look first.
“This certainly cost quite a bit.” Matvei’s tone is full of antipathy, his expression mirroring his tone when I look up at him.
“You don’t like it?”
“Samson has always been about showing off what he has, even if he doesn’t actually have it.”
I think about those words as we take our places, servers dressed in Louis XIV style beginning to circulate with the first course. Samson was always about appearance, it’s true. I used to take pride in being at his side, but as I get to know his brother, I can see the difference.
Where Samson flaunts his wealth, Matvei wears it subtly. Yes, he dresses in bespoke suits, wears an obnoxiously expensive watch, and has a personal driver, but even at The Four Seasons in Prague, he didn’t flash his money around.
In contrast, Samson always looked gaudy with his rings, suits, and branded workout gear, as well as his flashy cars. He spoke down to everyone except those he deemed worthy of his time.
My eyes wander the ballroom, at the incredible display of what’s possible when you have a lot of money. But would I have wanted this for my wedding? No. I was planning something far simpler and more classic. I didn’t care about showing off Samson’s money.
Dinner passes slowly, with numerous courses and entertainment in between each one. Samson and his new wife, Genevieve Mancini, hold court at the head table.
The closer the wedding day got, the more I’d worried that attending was a terrible idea, and my healing heart would break all over again.But I was surprised that I felt no sadness during the ceremony, not even when Samson and Genevieve said their vows and the priest exclaimed they were married. Oddly enough, I was thrilled it wasn’t me up there; the relief was unexpected but welcome.
My gaze moves from Samson and his new wife to around the room. I see celebrities, both local and other, as well as several heads of local mob families. A man in an extraordinary gold and blue filigree costume comes to announce that the dancing will start. Again, we all move to another room.
I don’t know if Matvei is going to ask me to dance. We mingle, staying around the edges of the ballroom as couples begin to take to the center. No one talks to us—if anything, they’re avoiding us—which suits me just fine. I’m not sure what to say, or if I should say anything at all. He isn’t treating me like a decoration by any means, which is what I originally expected.
Matvei startles me out of my thoughts when he pulls me close, wrapping his arm around my waist in a possessive gesture. I don’t understand why until I see Samson and his new wife walking toward us. They’re both smiling brightly, putting on a show, Samson’s cold eyes finding mine before flicking to his brother then away. His wife is looking at us, judgment in her eyes.
Matvei dips his head, his lips brushing my ear. “Let us pretend I’m saying something wildly funny, and then you laugh.”
I twist to look at his face, wondering if I look half as hungry as I feel for him. “Why don’t you just say something funny?”
“Funny is not my forte.”
My smile is sincere. “That was pretty funny.”
From the corner of my eye, I can see they’re almost to us. Matvei dips his head again, nuzzles my neck in a way that makes me shiver, and whispers, “I’ve got your back.”
The words of support are entirely unexpected. I’m grateful for them and for the firm hand around my waist as we’re confronted by my ex-fiancé and the woman with whom he replaced me.
“I didn’t believe you when you told me you had a date, Matvei.” Samson’s smile is a fragile veneer over the anger in his eyes.
“Was my word and RSVP not enough?” Matvei asks pleasantly. Samson’s eyes narrow, as it doesn’t take a genius to know Matvei is enjoying this.
“What’d you do, scoop her up as soon as I left her on the sidewalk with the rest of the trash?”
The comment is so mean, it nearly takes my breath away. Matvei’s arm around my waist tightens before it relaxes. The pleasant facade is gone, along with his smile.
“Actually, I happened across her at the airport. I was on business, and she was trying to get over the fact that someone had broken her heart. It was a happy coincidence.”
“You’re just trying to get back at me,” Samson hisses. “But it’s not going to work. I’ve already found the one.”
