"Everything's a gamble. This one's got good odds."
I turn, starting to walk back toward the entrance. We still have to go over table positions and seating charts for our friends at the police station, but I feel the nervous energy coming off these men. They're doubting me, which I don't appreciate, but I'm not changing my plan.
"Ro, this is too risky. We can't be so foolish as to?—"
"To what!" I snap, turning on Timur and his protests like a shark who senses blood in the water. "Are you calling me a fool?" I ask, leaning over him as he backs away.
"No, man," he grumbles, shaking his head. "I'm just saying, so the Volkov bitch is a murderer. You don't have to marry her or her daughters, right? Leave it. She doesn't pose a risk to you. Let her get herself caught. Who cares if she kills some other poor schmuck who marries her or one of those beastly women?"
I've thought of that too, letting Vera go to her own devices and eventually Karma will catch up with her, but Mila will never be free. I can't have that woman consuming everything Mila's father worked for. It's not my fight to fix, but now that I've tasted the sweetness that is Mila Radin, I can’t turn away.
"You're right. She poses no risk to me, and she never will. I'm not planning to marry either of those women, you idiot." My anger has been riled sufficiently enough to snap at my own brother and bite his head off. It's time I bring them into my plan.
"I will announce Vera's crimes publicly to everyone at that gala, complete with a slide show on the big screen which you will put together and run for me." I narrow my eyes on Timur who now looks like he's starting to catch on. The others stay quiet as I continue. "And then I will announce my intent to marry Mila Radin and free her from Vera's reign of terror. Do you understand?"
Kazimir's shoulders square and his jaw lifts a fraction. He's got it now. He understands what we stand to gain by this, but maybe not why.
"So you can take over the gun smuggling?" Timur presses.
"So I can have the wife I want in my bed, and whatever she chooses to do with her inheritance will be what she chooses." I step forward, still leaning over him as he scowls at me. "If Vera gets her way, Mila will have no inheritance left by the time she's twenty-five and married. I'm doing what I'm doing because she belongs to me now, and I won't let her suffer one more second. If you have a problem with that" —I point at the exits— "there's the fucking door."
Timur's hands rise slowly in surrender. "Got it… Loud and clear."
"Good, now make this place suitable and safe for this event, and make sure you respect my future wife. One day, she'll be signing your paychecks."
Turning, I march out the door and into the sunshine where Radimir has the car waiting for me. They know my plan now, so it will be less of a shock, but it was needful. For them to fall in line and do this correctly, they had to know.
Now, I have to inform Mila. And I'm not sure how she'll take it when I make my plans known to her.
21
MILA
Imake it to the bathroom with about two seconds to spare before everything comes up. My knees hit the tile and my hands grip the rim, and I heave until there's nothing left and then I heave again, my stomach clenching around emptiness. The vomiting has happened three times today, and it's been going on for a few days now. I'm not sure what I've picked up, but for the first time in my life, I'm grateful I'm throwing up and unable to serve Roman and his "guests" tonight.
Sofi's voice floats down the hallway while I'm still on my knees. It's muffled and quiet, but it's honestly going to make me vomit again. "Can you imagine? Two wives—two of us at once. He wouldn't even know what to do with himself."
"He'd know exactly what to do," Sabine says, and they both laugh together. It's disgusting and makes my skin crawl. It's bad enough to think of Roman walking down the aisle with one of them, but to picture the three of them together in bed is so perverted, I may just walk out of this house and never come back.
I flush and sit back on my heels and press the back of my hand against my forehead. I can't go out there and carry trays and pour wine and smile while they talk about fucking him together as if he's a prize they've already split between them. I won't.
I rinse my mouth at the sink and splash water on my face then walk to my room and close the door and get into bed. At least this time, it's not jealousy I'm feeling. It's something far worse than that. It makes me feel so numb, I can only stare at the wall and listen every now and then to the hideous cackling I hear and wonder what propositions they're offering him and whether he'll actually take them up on it.
When the nausea doesn’t leave, I manage to roll to my side and sip water, but it's bad now. Whatever I've come down with, it's the worst flu or virus I've ever had. I've never been so sick for so long. But at least I'm not feverish to make things worse.
Then someone knocks on the door and I grunt, "Yeah?" The door opens, revealing Sorin shuffling in with a tray and a look of concern. She pouts and frowns, then walks over to me.
"Rebecca said you ran off looking green." She sets the tray on the nightstand. "I've brought some broth and some rice too. Bland things help a sick belly." Her hand presses against my forehead, but she won't feel a temperature. My body is fighting this silently, though maybe that's why it's so bad if my immune system isn't really kicking in like it should.
"Thank you." I sit up against the headboard and take the cup of broth and sip it carefully. "I don't think I can eat." Just thinking of eating makes my stomach turn more, though Sofi and Sabine's presence is doing a good job of that too.
"Small sips. It'll settle your stomach." She watches me for a moment, her head tilted slightly. "How long have you been sick?" Sorin sits, perching on the edge of my bed and smoothing the comforter out across my legs. Her motherly ways usually come out in the kitchen as she tries to teach me a new recipe or two. Right now, I feel comforted by her taking interest in me. My own mother never got the chance, and Vera never showed a caring bone in her body.
"A few days," I say, trying to think. It'd been a while, which made me wonder how I'd managed to get away with no fever or body aches like normal.
"How many days, Mila?"
I look at the mug in my hand. "About a week or so… Seems to happen around this time too." Yesterday, it wasn’t as bad, and I thought I was finally getting better.
