“We’re going to need at least a dozen more girls in the next month,” Konstantin said, ignoring his youngest son.
“I’m working on it,” Stefan said. “You’ll get what you need.”
“It’s not whatIneed,” Konstantin said, and laughed. “It’s what the clients need.”
Something about the way he said ‘the clients’ made my gut twist, but I didn’t know why. I had to admit, Konstantin made me feel ill at ease in general. It probably had to do with the way I’d seen him hovering outside the balcony doors at my birthday party, spying on my conversation with Stefan and the kiss we’d shared after the proposal.
“I’ll send you a list of requirements,” Konstantin said, spearing a piece of asparagus on his plate.
I wanted to ask questions about the business, show that I was interested in and capable of following the conversation, but it was clear by everyone’s tone and body language that this discussion was for the Zoric family only. Is this what it felt like to be a mafia wife?
I ate quietly, listening passively, perking up only when I heard a familiar name.
“I’m surprised Oksana didn’t return with you last month,” Konstantin said. “We were expecting her in the States.”
Stefan gave an overly casual shrug, and suddenly I felt his hand on my knee.
“We never met up with her in Budapest,” he said. “She was a no show. I’ve been trying to chase her down, but she’s been out of pocket.”
His finger tap-tap-tapped against my knee, signaling me to keep quiet. Why was he lying to his father? I was full of questions. Questions I was sure I’d never get any straight answers to.
I was confused, and more than a little annoyed. Stefan had ignored me throughout the entire dinner and now he was expecting me to cover for him? I debated ‘accidentally’ exposing his lies to his father, asking if he meant the same Oksana who had taken me sightseeing.
But as upset as I was with Stefan, I disliked my father-in-law more. Whatever was going on with Oksana, it was clearly being kept a secret for a reason. And I didn’t want Konstantin to find out. In fact, I would have been more comfortable if Konstantin knew literally nothing about my life with Stefan, including the people we’d met up with on our honeymoon.
Konstantin seemed to notice that something unspoken was happening between me and Stefan, because he turned his unwelcome attention toward me again, those greedy, overly familiar eyes lingering too long on my breasts as he took a bite of his bloody, rare steak.
“And how is the little wifey enjoying her new palace?” he asked, gesturing around the room with his knife.
“It’s lovely,” I said. And then I excused myself from the table.
When I came out of the bathroom, I found someone waiting for me. It wasn’t Stefan, and thankfully it wasn’t Konstantin. It was Luka.
He was leaning against the wall, but he straightened up when I started to walk back toward the dining room. He put his arm out, blocking my exit.
“Excuse me,” I said, flashing a tight smile. He’d been drinking vodka cocktails heavily the whole night, and I could tell by his glassy eyes that he wasn’t anywhere near sober.
“You look good tonight.” He gave me a long, appraising look, but it was different from the leer I’d received from his father. Luka’s look was more clinical. Like he was trying to figure me out.
“Thank you,” I said, trying to be polite. “The restroom’s all yours.”
But he didn’t budge, just flashed me the charming smile that I’d seen work so well on all the single women at my wedding. He needn’t have bothered. Luka was cute and charming, but that didn’t change the fact that I was married to his brother. And I also wasn’t interested. Especially after what had happened between me and Stefan in the closet.
“You’re beautiful enough to be one of our talents,” he said as he leaned closer to me, and I could smell the alcohol on his breath. “Would you like to model for me?”
“No thank you,” I told him firmly, but he didn’t seem to listen.
He reached out, pushing my hair back from my shoulders, exposing my neck. I hoped there weren’t visible marks, considering how hard Stefan had been sucking and biting me there.
“I think you would,” he said. “I think you’d get off on it. You strike me as the kind of girl who likes to be the center of attention.”
“I’m not interested,” I said, inching backward. I would have run, but there was nowhere to go. He was blocking the only way out of the hallway.
“I’d show you a good time,” he said, stepping closer again. “It doesn’t seem like Stefan will care.”
I didn’t know what to do. He wasn’t letting me through, he wasn’t listening to anything I was saying, and his hands kept reaching out to graze my hair, my shoulders, my neck, as if I was nothing more than a bolt of fabric for him to fondle. I should have pushed him away, or yelled for help, but I was paralyzed.
“Please let me pass,” I said, trying to keep my voice from shaking.
