“He is an offended man, but he has no right to speak to you like that,” he says to me.
I shake my head. “I still have no idea what he was talking about,” I tell him. “Who is Maria? Or Petra or Ivanka?”
“They were your competition, sweetheart,” Pyotr answers, leaning across the table from me. “These families? They were all lining up their daughters like prized pigs for Kirill in hopes that he’d marry one of them. But lucky for you, you were the one that got the ring and the little bun in the oven.”
I gasp, realization dawning on me as Kirill reaches forward and grabs Pyotr by the collar.
“You will speak with respect or you will leave our presence,” Kirill growls at Pyotr. “Being my little brother only takes you so far, Pyotr.”
But already Pyotr is chuckling and putting his hands up.
“Easy, big brother. I’m not being disrespectful. I’m being honest! And I’m happy for you, truly.”
Pyotr turns his grin toward me and winks.
“I’m not upset, you know. That you were mine before. In fact I like the way it worked out. It gave me a chance to meet Valya. She is a very lovely girl.”
This strange evening is only getting stranger, and I feel my stomach clench as Kirill lets go of Pyotr.
“My sister?” I ask.
“We have a lot in common,” Pyotr answers, “I think fate stepped in.”
I want to ask more, but before I can, the auctioneer steps on stage and requests that everyone take their seats. A few minutes later a plate of rare filet mignon, roasted asparagus and mushrooms, and butter boiled baby potatoes appear before me. Suddenly I’m distracted by the savory aroma and the clenching in my stomach turns into a rumble.
“Eat,devochka,”Kirill commands tenderly as a knife and fork appear before me. “I took you away before supper. It’s important you don’t skip any meals.”
I catch his eyes as the auctioneer starts calling for the first bids, and I see that familiar sparkle that I can’t help but like. That look that says he wants me. More than wants me.Possessesme.
“You’re not eating?” I ask.
Fire crackles in Kirill’s eyes as he rakes his gaze down my body and focuses on my thighs.
“Oh, I will,” he promises. “I just prefer my meal to be in private.”
Heat blasts through my veins as I imagine what delicious things he plans to do with my body later, and I’m relieved that eventhough the day feels off, that didn’t mean we weren’t going to have our usual ending of explosive sex.
Knowing we need to keep putting on our show of a perfect couple, I lean forward and place a kiss on his cheek and purr, “Thank you darling.”
This earns me a genuine grin from my husband, and I can tell he’s pleased with my little show. He then points to the plate with his eyes, and I obediently pick up my knife and fork. As I eat, I watch and listen.
I had expected the items from the estate to be things like antique furniture and paintings- which there were a lot of- but I’m surprised at how much jewelry there is. Beautiful, elegant, extravagantly expensive necklaces, rings, and earrings that no doubt at one time belonged to either a very rich or very spoiled woman.
With each new item I watch as dozens of numbered white paddles go silently up in the air, but every time Kirill’s paddle goes up, the bidding suddenly stops and he wins. This continues on as I make my way through my delicious meal, and I’m starting to wonder what my new husband is doing buying all these expensive things for a mansion already filled with expensive things, when the most gorgeous necklace I’ve ever seen comes up for bid.
“And here, ladies and gentlemen we have a startling piece of finery suited only for the best of women. This gorgeous diamond necklace is vintage, created in 1920 under the commission ofJohn D. Rockefeller for his wife, Abby. As you can see this necklace has three strings of diamonds. The white diamonds in the top and bottom string are one carat each and the main diamond in the center string here is a rare, four carat blue diamond,” the auctioneer explains, “Let us start the bidding at $100,000.”
I’m so distracted by the beauty of the necklace that I almost miss Kirill’s paddle going up, but I look around just in time to see the other paddles fall as they did before- except for Pyotr’s. He grins, not at Kirill, but at me, as he raises his paddle again.
“Do I have $150,000?” the auctioneer asks.
Kirill raises his paddle and the silence from the crowd breaks as Pyotr yells out “$200,000!”
“$200,000 do I have $250?”
Kirill raises his paddle.
“$300,000,” Pyotr calls out as he raises his paddle.
