Chapter 11 - Arko
I knew Beatrice was still mad at me when she walked into the dining room the next morning, saw me sitting there already, and turned on her heels.
“Beatrice, wait up.” I pushed back my chair and jumped to my feet, rushing to catch her before she stormed off. The previous night, she had refused to join me for dinner, choosing to eat in her bedroom instead.
I realized it might not have been the wisest choice to deny her an innocent little shopping trip out with my sisters; being cooped up in the house all day could make anyone feel stifled. However, I knew just the way to make her feel better.
“I was meaning to talk to you.” I caught up with her on swift feet.
“About what?” She halted and whirled to me, her arms crossed indignantly before her, like she was already closed off to anything I had to say to her.
“There’s a party an ally of ours is having tonight. The entire family is going, and I’d like to introduce you to some of the families we’re close to. I thought we could leave at around seven?”
She narrowed her eyes at me, and I stood straighter. I didn’t just want to take her that night to make up for denying her an outing the day before; I also needed her on my arm because, now that my family knew I was married, I thought it was time to put the next phase of my plan into motion.
By taking her to this party, I would claim her in front of the whole damn world. Tonight, it was people close to us, harmless and loyal, but I knew the word would spread, and just like that, the Lebedevs would know who they had lost their sister to: me.
I’d kept her hidden away for far too long. Almost a month now, but keeping her secret wasn’t the plan, though. I wanted to throw this marriage in the Lebedevs’ faces and watch them reel when they learned their sister’s new husband’s name.
“Do I have to come?” Beatrice asked coldly.
“I thought you wanted to step out of the house.” I tilted my head out of curiosity.
“I did. On my terms.” She shook her head. “Besides, won’t tonight be dangerous? What if something happens like it did that time we went out for dinner…”
My heart clenched as I saw fear flicker in her eyes.
For all her bravado and the strong armor she usually kept on, during moments like this, all I could do was see the terrified woman in front of me in a storage closet, telling me a story of that time she was left to choke to death in a burning building.
Like every time I thought of that incident she was a victim of, I found myself wrecked. I hated that she had to suffer through that, and even more so, hated that I had triggered her worst nightmare when I set the club on fire that night I kidnapped her.
“Beatrice.” My voice softened. “Tonight, it’s just allies and a closed-knit scene. I just thought that since you couldn’t go shopping last night, perhaps you’d like to catch up with my sisters tonight. That’s all.”
I saw her hesitate, arguing with whatever logic she had going on in her head. At last, she groaned and threw her hands in the air. “Fine. Seven, you said?”
“Yes.” I held back the smile that I knew hinted at victory. I couldn’t wait to scream to the world that Beatrice Lebedev was my wife, and equally so, I was sick and tired of watching her sulk around the house. That night, I wanted to kill two birds with one stone and show her the time of her life.
***
The entire ride over, I couldn’t help but steal glances at Beatrice. We sat in the back of my Bentley, and Beatrice was quiet as a mouse, staring out of the window.
“Who is throwing the party tonight?” she asked, turning to me. I felt like I’d been jolted awake, the light from outside dazzling on her shimmering, high cheekbones. She had her hair swept over one side, diamonds dripping on her ears, her wrists, her neck.
“You look beautiful,” I said, breathlessly, realizing a little too late that I sounded like an idiot. But dear god, she did. She wore a black silk halter dress, cut dangerously low in the back and teasingly so in the front.
The silk clung to her, to bone and hip, all the way down to her ankles, from where a slit ran so high up her thigh that one wrong move, and I was afraid I’d lose all control.
“Thank you,” she whispered, nibbling her red-painted lower lip out of nervous habit. Our eyes met, and then lingered. A breathless moment passed, and my palms went clammy, thinking back to that morning in my bed, when we came so dangerously close to more.
Sitting next to her while keeping my hands to myself felt like an utter tragedy. I was the first to glance away, clearing my throat.
“Our allies, the Ajello’s, are throwing a party tonight. It’s Gastone and Elena’s anniversary. The Ustinovs and Vadims will be there too, amongst other families.”
Beatrice nodded. “I’ve heard of them,” she said quietly.
I nodded too, and prayed I’d get through the night without pulling her away into a corner. Tonight was to introduce her to the world, and not feed into this whirlwind of confusing thoughts about the woman at the arm.
I tried to remind myself, over and over again, that she was just a means to an end. But there was something about Beatrice that made it seem like an impossible task to remember. I closed my eyes and threw back my head against the leather to collect myself, but all I saw were snapshots.
Beatrice and her fiery spirit, Beatrice and her fear, Beatrice and her kindness. She was too fucking human, too perfectly good, to fuck with.
This is revenge against her brothers, I told myself when we finally pulled up to the glittering party. This isn’t about her at all.
But the guilt followed me in as I gave her my arm and helped her out of the car. It stayed with me as we climbed up the steps to the double-sided doors. It bothered me to think about introducing her as my wife, knowing that nothing about this felt like mere revenge anymore.
Somewhere, along the way, I had forgotten how to detach myself from her.
“Come,” I said to her, guiding her through the party. All around us, the sounds of chatter and laughter drifted like music. On a pedestal, an orchestra played.
“Can we get a drink first?” she asked with a tremor in her voice, her hand clutching at my arm and squeezing tight.
“Are you nervous?” I halted and turned to face her, my eyes studying her face. Her eyes darted around the room, and I felt the anxiety rolling off her. “I promise we’re safe tonight.”
She nodded, but her throat bobbed. A waiter passed with a tray of chilled champagne flutes. I grabbed two and passed her one.
She took a sip, then another.
Once again, that guilt slammed into me like a wave.
I’d put her in impossible situations, and I thought of what I was doing to her.
I’d taken away her independence and then any and all sense of safety.
She wasn’t truly in control here. This was my turf, and all she could do was believe my word when I said it was safe.
“I think you’ll love Abraham Ustinov’s wife, Pippa,” I started to say, just to help her ease into the night. “She runs all their casinos now. She could teach you a trick or two at beating the odds.”
“I…don’t really gamble.” She stared at me over the glass.
“Right.” I cleared my throat, shaking my head. Of course, she didn’t, little Miss Goody-Two-Shoes. “Well, Vlad Ustinov’s wife, Emory, is an excellent therapist.”
“You think I need therapy?” She looked at me like I’d grown two heads, and I saw the corners of her mouth turn. Yeah, I was definitely sounding like an idiot, but at least she was smiling.
“Hey, we’re all blind to our own crazy.” I gave her a wink, and she scoffed, pretending to look shocked as she smacked me, feather-light on my shoulder.
A spark shot up my arm, and I was about to tell her more about the people in the room, hoping to make her feel safe, when I heard Gastone’s booming voice behind me.
“Arko! You enter my party and don’t even bother saying hello?” he teased, walking over to us with his wife, Elena by his side.
“Hello, darling.” Elena kissed both cheeks, then turned to Beatrice with a quizzical look.
“I was about to come find you,” I said, placatingly, shaking Gastone’s hand now. “Congratulations on another year of married life.” I winked at Elena. “I don’t know how you do it.”
“I keep asking myself the same thing,” she joked back.
“I swear, someday, someone’s got to teach you manners,” Gastone glowered playfully, then turned his attention to Beatrice.
“I didn’t know you were bringing a guest.”
“About that.” I cleared my throat, deciding there was no going back now. Within a few days, her brothers would soon learn of her whereabouts, and then my plan could be set in motion. “I’d like to introduce you to my wife, Beatrice Lebedev.”
“Your…wife?” Elena’s voice screeched, then she collected herself, schooling her shocked expression into place, before giving her husband a warning glare to do the same. “I didn’t know you got married.”
“When did this happen?” Gastone said, once the news registered.
“Beatrice…Lebedev, you said?” He scrutinized Beatrice.
I braced myself, for I knew very well that there would be questions from our allies later.
They wouldn’t question or challenge me in front of my new wife, but I expected resistance to what I’d done at some point.
“Yes, that’s right,” I explained. “We got married just a month ago.”
“Whew, what a whirlwind, huh?” Elena beamed, warming over the ice-cold tension. “And are you planning a honeymoon soon?”
“A honeymoon?” Beatrice chirped, like a frazzled bird. “Oh.” Her eyes met mine. “I don’t think so.”
“I’m swamped with work,” I jumped in, before Beatrice mentioned the word kidnapping and turned this even more awkward.
“Take your wife on a honeymoon.” Elena frowned at me in mock warning. “Don’t be that guy.”
“Yeah, Arko,” Beatrice chimed in, giving me a playful look. “Don’t be that guy.”