Margo stared at me as if saying,he’s your problem now.
“Fine.”
I left my phone at the head table, which was mostly empty. Ivan and Irina were talking to Uncle Cesar, Dad, and Paulie. Aralina was talking to Maksim.
The second I picked up my phone, a message popped up.
Do you know where your husband is?
It was from an unknown number. At first, I thought it was one of Margo’s assistants also asking me where Kirill was.
But the picture that followed soured the wine in my stomach. The image was dark and grainy, but I recognized Kirill’s unmistakable frame. In front of him was Anya. Oh, for fuck’ssake. When did she arrive? She wasn’t at the ceremony, thank God, but most of the guests had arrived for the reception.
Kirill couldn’t even stay away from Anya tonight of all nights. When he recited those vows, I almost believed that at least we’d have respect in the marriage. This was blatant disrespect, but maybe he meant the opposite of everything he promised me. It took superhuman effort not to hurl my phone across the room and scream.
The surrounding chatter grew louder and pressed against my skull. Before I lost control of my jumbled emotions—because I couldn’t identify a single one right now except self-righteous fury and a clawing pain in the center of my chest—I strode briskly towards the exit. I didn’t know what the hell I was feeling, so I trusted my feet in their desire for escape.
I passed a couple of guests, forcing a smile when all I wanted was to destroy all the artwork and sculptures that decorated the hallway.
When I found a quiet corner, I tried to assemble and sort through my emotions, but another message came.
This time with a video.
Their heads were close together, and Kirill had his arms around Anya. They weren’t kissing, but obviously they were in an intimate conversation.
I concentrated on identifying their surroundings. They were at the portico where we had our pictures taken earlier. It was a gorgeous structure comprising a row of Roman columns. The wisteria vines that wrapped around the columns made a beautiful backdrop of purple and green.
Those pictures were now ruined and tainted.
I approached the French doors that led to the portico. It was already wide open, and I could see my new husband. And what did I even call Anya?
His mistress. His sidepiece. I had no proof. They could be talking innocently.
Why was I still so blind? The signs were all there. This was the last straw.
I stepped out of my shoes and shifted to stealth mode. I’d done my share of breaking and entering, and creeping up to them was child’s play. I traversed the outside of the columns until I came upon the couple.
“Anya, control yourself.”
“I can’t, Kirill!” she sobbed. “I can’t stand the fact that you married her. It should have been me.”
“Davenport is barely in the ground,” he sighed.
“How long do I have to wait?”
“Anya. I never promised you?—”
“You did! You told me you would take care of me…that I would always have you. That I will always come first before anyone else.”
Silence from Kirill. He didn’t deny it. Anya continued to cry.
“I need to head back.” Kirill’s voice was gentle but firm.
“Stay with me a few minutes more…”
“Anya…”
I steeled myself and stepped out from the shadows. I’d heard more than enough, and I doubted Kirill was going to say more. What I couldn’t risk was someone else finding them like this.
