He picked up my hand and rested it in the crook of his elbow.
“I need to check my face.”
Kirill glanced down at me, his familiar smirk curving his lips. “You look like you’ve been thoroughly kissed.”
I tried to pull my hand away, but he held on. “Oh no. This is the perfect time to prove to the men in your family that we couldn’t keep our hands off each other.”
“So that was your intent all along?”
“It’s good to show them we have chemistry, no?”
“I don’t know, Kirill.”
“I could have made you come, but you haven’t earned it yet.”
“What?” I snapped. “I don’t like games.”
We were at the entrance of the dining room. “Oh, you will like my games.”
There was no time to retort because Kirill dragged me into the room. My entire face still felt flushed and I could feel myswollen lips from Kirill’s ravaging kiss. The men in my family couldn’t look at me while Sloane had a knowing smile on her face.
There was no doubt what transpired between Kirill and me, and that devil had to draw attention to it.
Kill me now.
Chapter
Eight
Lucy
I wasn’t expectingto attend Bruce Davenport’s funeral but here I was. It had been a week since I agreed to marry Kirill, and I hadn’t seen him since Wednesday, when we both appeared before the lawyers to discuss the draft of the prenup. It was then he told me we were going to Davenport’s funeral.
I didn’t give another thought to what Luca said in passing about Anya Davenport. Bruce was more of an acquaintance, so I didn’t know his wife very well, but if she and Kirill had grown up together, then I expected more interaction between them. At the cemetery, I thought we would stand beside Anya who was seated and crying, as she watched her husband’s casket lowered to the ground.
Bruce’s relatives surrounded her. But the pair of men dressed in dark, expensive suits standing with the family drew my gaze. The crowd around Anya reeked of old money anyway, but these two bore no resemblance to the Davenports, who were distinguished for their all-American blond looks. No, these two had thick dark hair and tanned skin. Chiseled hard featuresrather than the affable smiles of Bruce’s family. They looked familiar, but I couldn’t place them. The older of the two unnerved me because I wasn’t imagining the way he glared at Kirill. As if he knew this entire tableau was all wrong and screamed cover-up.
Then I rebuked myself. I was feeling guilt, that was all. My fiancé in the meantime remained his regular stoic self.
I had my reservations about appearing at the funeral, but I understood Kirill’s strategy. He sought a balance. Comforting the widow too much might draw suspicion, but avoiding the funeral altogether would invite more attention. And since I killed Viktor and Kirill was covering it up, I was willing to play along with whatever charade he engineered.
But I really wished we had skipped the luncheon.
Kirill and I were standing in line to pay our respects to Anya, and my gut was twisted in so many knots, I felt like throwing up. Going along with the plan was different when coming face-to-face with the widow, who knew the real reason her husband was dead. The press stated accidental drug overdose because of the pressure of the election. I wondered if the Davenport family knew it was because of the heroin, but abided by the official vague statement to avoid further scandal to the family name. The headlines never mentioned infidelity or Bruce’s lover.
As Kirill and I moved closer, I observed the woman who had been a part of his life. Her natural beauty was at the same time tragic and ethereal. The bone structure and contours of her face were flawless, down to the perfect slant of her nose and rosebud lips. Her eyes were huge, expressive, thick-lashed, and of an interesting shade of violet. Faint lines at the corners added maturity to an otherwise youthful face. Those were eyes that had seen a lot.
Anya barely acknowledged the couple in front of her when her gaze swept up to Kirill’s. Fresh tears brimmed in her eyes,and it was almost painful to watch her lips tremble as she whispered his name, “Kirill.”
The couple in front of us advanced. It was our turn. Anya ignored me, her gaze still focused on my fiancé. I’d never been possessive in my life. I’d never in my life thought any man was worth fighting over. I wasn’t about to start now, more offended for a dead man.
Regardless of how their marriage fell apart before his death, Bruce deserved better than to have his widow yearn over an ex-lover when he was barely cold in the ground.
I fumed, and my facial muscles ached from keeping my expression sympathetic.
“Anya, we’re so sorry for your loss.” Kirill lowered his head to kiss Anya on both cheeks. She attempted to press into him with the intent to put her head on his chest, but Kirill gripped her biceps and rigidly set her away.
I sensed his irritation before Kirill turned immediately to me. “This is Lucy,my fiancée.”
