Ruthless Reign: A Dark Mafia Forbidden Romance (Tarnished Reign Book 1)

Chapter 4

I examinemy reflection in the bathroom mirror, saying a little prayer that my dollar-store makeup hack worked to mask the bruise under my eye.

Feeling the onset of a headache, I dig in my clutch and take out two painkillers, popping them into my mouth and chasing them down with a gulp of champagne. Between having to act like I enjoy Anatoly’s presence and tolerating Roman and Katerina’s flirty vibe, tonight already feels never-ending, and we’re only in the second hour of the evening.

Swinging the bathroom door open, I step out, only to stop short.

Roman is there, looking all hot and annoying, casually leaning against the wall. A slow, teasing smile unfurls on his lips. “Liza. Funny running into you here.”

A hand lands on my hips. “It’s really not. I live here.”

He chuckles, and the sound does something weird to my insides.

“True.” He pushes from the wall and steps towards me. “Still, it feels like you’ve avoided me all night.”

“Maybe you’re the one who’s avoided me, too busy chatting away with Katerina.”

Damn. As soon as the words fall from my lips, I realize my mistake.

Way to show your cards, Liza.

He raises his dark eyebrows. “Yes, well, I was fascinated listening to Katerina about her many hobbies. She’s a woman of varied interests—shopping, lunching, working out.”

I cross my arms in front of my chest, but a small flicker of warmth spreads through me. Despite my intention of playing it cool, a smile creeps onto my face. “She’s certainly one of a kind.”

Roman tucks his hands into his pockets as his gaze drifts over my face. He always looks at me like that, as if he’s trying to figure me out.

I point towards the door I just came through. “Well, we’re about to sit down for dinner. I imagine you wanted to use the restroom.”

He doesn’t move a muscle. I’m about to push past him when he makes a noise in the back of his throat. “You don’t like me, do you?”

My gaze burns into the floor. What am I supposed to say? ‘That I don’t like how my body reacts to you?’ I shrug because it seems like the safest response. “It’s not personal. I didn’t like you spying on Kira and me.”

“First of all, it’s always personal when you dislike someone. And second, I was never spying on you.”

“Doesn’t make it any better.”

He raises the drink in his hand and takes a long, lazy sip. I watch the tendons in his throat as he swallows. “Seeing as I’m working closely with your fiancé, maybe we can call a truce.”

My chest tightens at the reminder that he and Anatoly are now on the same side. I purse my lips. “And what would that look like?”

“It would mean we’re civil to each other. It shouldn”t be so hard. You”re perfectly agreeable to everyone else.”

That”s because everyone else is not Roman. Everyone else lacks his cool confidence, fast wit, and easy charm that fascinate me and get under my skin at the same time.

“I’m always civil to you,” I point out.

“The looks you were throwing me across the room earlier were anything but.”

I bite the inside of my cheek. That had a lot to do with Katerina hanging off his every word. “I have a resting bitch face.”

Roman chokes out a laugh. “You only have a resting bitch face when it comes to me.”

I offer a small smile. “Just part of my charm.”

“Does that mean we’re friends?”

Friends? Roman and I have never been friends. Nor would I describe my feelings towards him as particularly friendly, but it seems safer to agree.

“Friends.” I nod.

We seal it with a handshake, but the moment his hand touches mine, little sparks jolt up my arm like I”ve touched a live wire.

Damn him and his electric touch.

My throat goes dry as he brushes past me with a little wink on his way into the washroom.

It takes me a minute to cool off before I feel steady enough to join the other guests.

Like a circling hawk, Anatoly swoops down on me the moment I step into the dining room and offers his arm to escort me to my seat. He loves to play the doting fiancé when others are around.

“Tonight’s a good night to celebrate, don’t you think?”

Something in his tone gives me pause. I rub my temples, willing the painkillers to kick in.

“What do you mean?” I ask cautiously.

“Two powerful families united.”

How much praise does this man require? “Yes, Anatoly, the deal with the Belovs is very exciting.”

He chortles under his breath as he pulls out my chair and murmurs into my ear, “I’m not talking about the shipping deal.”

Prickles of unease coast over my skin. I whip around to ask him what the hell he’s talking about, but before I can get a word in, my father interrupts to consult Anatoly about the choice of wine. Something about our exchange feels off, but maybe I’m reading too much into it.

Wine is poured and gentle chatter floats around the room when Roman finally makes his entrance. Katerina tries to flag him over to where she’s sitting, but he ignores her and takes the free seat beside Sofiya and, to my displeasure, directly across from me. I know we’re supposed to be friends now, but I have no idea what that’s supposed to look like.

“Sofiya, right? We’ve met before, but it’s been a while.” Roman holds out his hand to my sister, who blushes like a schoolgirl—as I suspect most women do when he pays them any attention.

I’m meticulously spreading a napkin in my lap and avoiding Roman’s gaze when Anatoly lowers himself into the seat beside me and throws an arm around the back of my chair. I immediately stiffen.

“So, Sofiya, what kinds of things are you into?” Roman asks as a team of waiters serves the first course.

Sofiya eyes light up. “I’m into the performing arts. I’m actually in the school play this year. We’re performing TheSound of Music.”

“No one cares about a musical performed by a bunch of teenagers,” Anatoly butts in. He tries to catch Roman’s eye as if to say, Aren’t teenage girls idiots?

Roman gives him a hard stare.

“Anyhow, Vasiliev. Have you had a chance to look at the schematics for?—”

“What role are you performing?” Roman asks Sofiya, completely ignoring Anatoly”s comment. Satisfaction washes over me at Roman”s sharp dismissal.

Sofiya colors, playing with the ends of her hair. “I’m one of the von Trapp kids. Not the biggest role, but I’m still pretty excited.”

Roman tilts his head as if he’s genuinely interested. “Do you get to wear lederhosen?”

She giggles. “Only the boys do. I think I dodged a bullet—they don’t seem to be very comfortable.”

Roman gives my sister a little wink. “I hope I can snag an invite to the performance.”

I know Roman is just being polite, but I appreciate the effort.

Roman’s eyes travel across the table and land on me. “What about you, big sis, are you into performing as well?”

“Nope. Can’t hold a tune to save my life.”

“You can always take singing lessons,” Sofiya suggests. “That”s what we do at school, and it made all the difference.”

“Maybe one day?—”

I’m interrupted by Anatoly’s snort of derision. “No wife of mine is getting on stage to sing or dance. That”s ridiculous.”

It’s on the tip of my tongue to remind him that I’m not his wife, but when his eyes cut to mine with a warning to drop the issue, I do.

“What”s wrong with learning how to sing?” Roman’s lips flatten into a thin line. It’s clear he finds Anatoly as charming as a rodent rooting around in his garbage. “I bet Liza has a beautiful singing voice.”

I can’t tell if that’s meant as a compliment or not, but my body reacts as if it is—a fluttering in my stomach that I try to dismiss.

“So, Vasiliev, there”s a new route I”ve been meaning to discuss with you, one that could expand our reach significantly.”

Roman swirls the wine in his glass. “I’m sure Liza and Sofiya don’t want to hear all of our business talk. Let’s leave that for after dinner.”

The sneer on Anatoly’s face says it all, but he doesn’t dare contradict Roman. Instead, he pushes back his chair and walks away, presumably to discuss something with my father, who’s a much more willing audience.

Sofiya catches my eye and gives me a ‘well, that was awkward’ look, but I shake my head. I really don’t want to give Anatoly any reason to get angry. Not tonight.

The clinking of a fork on glass catches the attention of everyone in the room, including my own. My gaze flicks to the head of the table, where I expect my father to rise and drunkenly give a gushing speech in honor of our esteemed guests—it’s certainly something he’s done many times before—but it’s not him summoning the room. It’s Anatoly.

All eyes are glued to him.

Unease drips down my spine when he holds up his champagne glass and angles his body towards me. I try not to look like a deer caught in headlights, but I know I won’t like what he’s going to say next.

“Anatoly, we’re still eating. This is not the time,” I implore.

He doesn’t respond but waits until everyone has gone silent. “As you all know, Liza and I are engaged to be married.” Murmurs of acknowledgement fill the room. “I’d like to announce that a wedding date has been set. A month from now, I’ll walk Liza down the aisle and make her my bride.” His eyes cut to mine, and I hate the possessive glimmer I find staring back at me.

Cheers erupt, my parents being the loudest. In fact, my mother practically sobs with happiness, spouting off her excitement, while the only thing I feel is cold, hard dread despite the smile I”ve plastered onto my face.

I knew this day was coming, but I prayed with every fiber of my being that it would be a long time in the future. But a month... How is that possible?

I can’t make eye contact with Kira, Sofiya, or anyone who may see through my thin veil of composure, but for some reason, my eyes land on Roman’s. What I see confuses the heck out of me. He looks downright pissed, like he might blow a gasket, for reasons that don’t make a lick of sense to me.

“Darling.” I fight to keep my voice steady as Anatoly approaches. “Isn’t this all a bit rushed? There’s still so much planning and organizing to do if we’re going to have the wedding of our … dreams.”

Anatoly scowls. “That’s what money is for, Elizaveta. I’ll hire the best wedding planner in the city. You don’t need to worry about the details.”

I stand, thinking I may throw up, but Anatoly takes that as an invitation to kiss me. His thin lips press against my own, and it’s all I can do to keep upright.

When he pulls away, he whispers into my ear, “I can’t wait any longer to fuck you, princess.”

Bile rises in my throat, but I swallow it down. Although we’ve done other things, I’m still a virgin because he wanted me pure for my wedding night.

I”m keenly aware of everyone”s eyes on me, including Sofiya’s. I don”t want her to worry or question why I look miserable at the prospect of this marriage. So, I push down my feelings, plaster on a smile, accept everyone”s congratulations, and pretend that I”m not dying inside.