“Fuck,” she muttered on a rare occasion of cursing. “Out with it.”
“I have your word?”
“Yes,” she snapped.
“It was Lucy who killed Viktor.”
Margo’s eyes widened and then narrowed. “How…?”
I gave her the gist of what happened tonight.
“In about an hour, the world will know that Bruce Davenport died of an accidental drug overdose.”
“I know he was running for the senate, but there are rumors he was going to back out because he was divorcing Anya. That won’t go over well with Peter and Luca since they’re depending on that senate seat.”
Thank fuck I didn’t have to explain the stakes to Margo.
“That foolish, foolish girl,” Margo exploded in a rare show of emotion. “She tried to fix the scandal for Luca.”
“That’s what I suspect.” When she started pacing in deep contemplation, my patience became a scarce commodity. I needed to get this done. “We don’t have much time, Margo,” I told her curtly. “The news of Davenport’s death is going to hit the six o’clock news. Luca may very well be on his way to New York as we speak.”
She stopped wearing a hole in the Persian rug and glared at me. “I don’t know if I’m impressed or appalled at the level of manipulation you executed in such a short amount of time.”
“That’s why I deserve to be pakhan and I need a fitting bride by my side.”
“Lucy is the answer?”
“She’s a godsend,” I deadpanned.
Margo scoffed, “More like a sacrificial lamb.”
“I won’t abuse her if that’s what you’re afraid of.”
“Physically,” she replied. “But even now you’re a master of mental games. I think that’s why you’re relishing this match. You want to get your hands on Lucy, but she’s protected by the De Luccis and my covenant. This way, you're like a cat playing with a mouse.”
“I don’t think Miss De Lucci will appreciate being compared to a mouse,” I drawled. “Admit it, Margo. You’re salivating at this match because you can’t wait to see her make me miserable.”
“Now what kind of matchmaker would I be if my goal is to make my clients miserable? I would, however, like to see you taken down a peg or two.”
Not likely.
“This is still an intent-to-marry contract,” Margo warned.
“Of course.”
“Well, okay, then, let me see your prospective bride.”
Chapter
Four
Lucy
I was lyingin bed weighing my options. Since I didn’t have a phone or a surface to write on, the ceiling became my mental canvas. I’d done these exercises before. Besides, the shower invigorated me. A night owl by design, I was going to crash later. The bedroom Kirill put me in teemed with the dizzying opulence of five-star accommodations. Plush, burgundy, embroidered curtains, drawn along the custom dark wood four-poster bed, served more as frill than function. And I always appreciated diamond-tufted headboards set against a hand-carved frame. This one was tipped with gold.
The entire room screamed royalty and luxury. I didn’t doubt Kirill had put me in this room as a calculated move, although he of all people should know that I was no stranger to the lavish lifestyle.
So, the joke was on you, Kirill Zahkarov.
