Chapter 26 #2
Maxim glared at me. I winked at him, smiling big as hell.
Eventually, Maxim got a hand on Seraph’s elbow and guided—if guidance was a euphemism for strong-armed—her away from the center of the room, his face smooth again, but don’t-fuck-with-me energy pouring off him.
Artyom and Lev materialized like shadows behind him.
Sergei said something to divert attention from Maxim’s spectacle, his face all friendly, his voice all steel.
The room slowly restarted around us, conversations picking back up.
“Did that just happen?” I asked.
“Yeah,” Targen said dryly. “And Maxim will probably kill half the staff for letting it.”
I laughed softly. “Again, your family is a lot.”
He made a face at me. “So is yours.”
“Mine at least wait to cause scenes in private.”
He looked down at me, amused. “That lil bar scene said something different.”
I kissed my teeth. “Let it go.”
“Nah. You looked too good acting too bad, malyshka,” he said huskily.
That should’ve annoyed me. Instead, I had to bite back a smile. I reached up and straightened his bow tie, just because I wanted to touch him.
“Go talk to your dramatic relatives. Get your brother together before that lady kills him,” I told him.
His eyes searched my face for a second, like he was trying to figure out when this sweet version of me had come back. “You sure?”
“Yeah. I’m not going anywhere.”
That last line must have done something to him because his eyes darkened, and he bent to brush a kiss against my forehead before stepping away.
I watched him walk away, biting my lip. Damn, he was fine. I might have to let him—
And that was when the blonde approached him.
She was beautiful, all polished and expensive looking. She had white-blonde hair, pale skin, and blue eyes. She had the kind of face that made you think she had never paid for anything off the rack—if she'd ever paid for anything.
She grabbed my husband’s arm and smiled up at him before starting to talk to him.
I was okay… until he smiled back. It was warm and patient, like he’d forgotten he was supposed to be going to check on his sociopath of a brother.
A bright green rush of jealousy spread through me as my hand tightened around my glass.
It didn’t help that Goldilocks pressed her long, slim body against his and he responded by hugging her tightly and kissing her temple.
Just like he did me sometimes.
He let her go and continued after Maxim. He was barely out of the room before the woman and her sidekick sidled up to me. Her friend was a brunette, pretty but in a more understated way. They both smiled as they neared me, all soft congratulations and fake warmth.
“Congratulations, Mrs. Sidorov,” the blonde purred.
I smiled back because my mama and grandmamas had raised me right. “Thank you.”
“I’m Ekaterina,” she said. “Ekaterina Volkov. And this is Zhenya.”
The brunette inclined her head.
“It’s lovely to finally meet you. We have heard so much, so quickly,” Ekaterina continued, the shade obvious.
Something in her tone made my spine stiffen. My head tilted to one side.
“Oh, yeah?” I asked.
“Yes.” She lifted her champagne glass. “Targen has always been… special to this family. Important. Beloved. Special to me, too. He and I planned—” She stopped, waved her hand dismissively. “But that is obviously bygone. Still, everyone expected he would marry beautifully, of course.”
That didn’t sound bad on the surface. It was the way she smiled when she said it that had my Spidey senses tingling.
I sipped my drink before speaking. “Well. Here I am. He's definitely beautifully married.”
The brunette choked on a laugh she tried to hide. Bitch. I wouldn't give them the pleasure, though. My smile never wavered.
Ekaterina’s smile widened, showing all her damn teeth. “Yes. It would seem so.”
I waited.
She leaned just a little closer, lowering her voice.
“I only mean… there were assumptions, once. About where he might look for a wife. Many of us thought he would pick someone who understood his life. Someone from his world. But duty is such a powerful and… compelling thing in families like this, is it not?” Her eyes drifted over me, my dress, my brown skin, my face, her ugly implications unspoken.
Oh, these bitches! My face must've shown something because my sister and cousin were suddenly beside me.
“You good, suga?” Ev asked, her pretty face twisted into something not at all friendly.
I nodded. “Great.”
Then, I smiled, but it wasn't amused.
“I’m sorry. You must be confused,” I said sweetly.
“First, my husband comes from two worlds, one of which looks a lot like me. Second, if you’re trying to imply he wanted you and got stuck with me instead, you should’ve just said that.
We black girls appreciate direct communication.
That way, I could've let you know; Targen is right where he wants to be.”
The brunette gasped like she was offended by what I said.
Ekaterina’s face went paler. “You misunderstand me.”
Epiphany laughed quietly. “Nah, if there's one thing my sister understands, it's words. She lives by them. Stand on what you said, Blondie. Don't throw a rock and hide your hand.”
“Perhaps I worded that awkwardly,” Ekaterina murmured.
For a second, we just stood there smiling at each other like two well-dressed enemies in some mafia rom-com. Then she gave one little shrug.
“Enjoy your evening, Mrs. Sidorov.”
“Oh, I plan to,” I replied, just as catty as she was.
But I didn’t, not after that. Thing is, I didn't really believe Targen was some unwilling man dragged to the altar out of obligation and because he was ordered to.
My heart knew better than that. But my head…
Ekaterina had done what she meant to do.
She had taken that little seed of doubt I already carried and watered it.
And God, it was blooming all through me.
Had he really planned with her? Did I interrupt something?
It wasn't like he'd known he was going to run into me in Louisiana last year.
Maybe he'd thought he'd have a little fling and come back to Ekaterina, to his other world, the more dominant one.
But then me and my issues had gotten him caught up.
Is that why he hugged her like that, smiled at her like that?
Did he still want that little Elsa-look-alike?
If so, he was the one who could let it go, let it go, cuz I'll be damned!
By the time Targen came back to my side, I was quieter. He noticed immediately.
“Everything good?” he asked.
“Perfect.”
That made his eyes narrow, but before he could say anything else, another man approached. He was tall and dark-haired with a smile that probably made weak women hand over phone numbers, common sense, and panties regularly.
“May I?” he asked, bowing slightly. “Nikolai Sokolov.”
His accent was Russian, but lighter than some of the others. His tux was perfect. His smile was dangerous, but charming. He was the kind of man you knew was trouble… but you might let buy you a drink anyway.
Before Targen could answer for me, I said, “I’m Theory Miller.”
I didn't say Mrs. Sidorov, Just Theory Miller. Something changed in Targen’s face. That should've been enough of a warning to me. But I was in a mood. He should've put a leash on his past pets.
Nikolai extended his hand. “Would ‘Theory’ honor me with a dance?”
I should’ve said no.
Instead, I thought of Ekaterina’s words and Targen’s smile, his arms holding her. I might let him explain later. But for now, something hurt rose up in me.
I smiled at Nikolai. “I’d love to.”
Targen looked at me. I looked right back. Then I placed my hand in Nikolai’s and let him lead me onto the dance floor.
The song was soft, low, intimate. Nikolai was a good dancer, too. He led easily while talking to me, exuding just enough charm to feel flattering. He talked in a way some slick-ass men had, where every compliment felt genuine. He was definitely attractive… and I felt nothing for him.
“You are quieter than I expected,” he said after a minute.
I laughed. “Damn, I look loud?”
“No. I just meant I could see the fire in your face, but your voice is all honey.”
See? Like that. That made me smile despite myself. Across the room, I could feel Targen’s eyes on me.
Good.
Maybe.
Probably not good, actually. But I was in my feelings and in my little spiteful bag, so I kept dancing.
Nikolai’s gaze drifted over my shoulder. “Your husband does not look pleased.”
I turned slightly, following his line of sight just enough to catch Targen standing near one of the columns, one hand around a lowball glass he had not lifted in several minutes. His face was blank. Too blank. That was worse than mad.
I turned my attention back to Nikolai. “He’ll survive.”
“Will he?” Nikolai asked, amused.
I laughed more than was warranted as I gazed up at him. Nikolai’s smile widened.
“You are a treasure, indeed, Ms. Miller,” he murmured.
“Thank you. I—”
“It’s Mrs. Sidorov, and my wife and I need to make our exit.”
I was really, really proud of myself for not jumping out of my fucking skin. I looked over my shoulder into Targen’s blank face. I kissed my teeth in annoyance before turning back to Nikolai.
“I’m not ready to go,” I threw stubbornly at the seething giant behind me.
“Oh, trust me,” he said, grabbing my hand. “You ready.”
“Targen—”
The words were barely out before he had turned me around. The look in his eyes contradicted the nonchalant little smile on his lips. He leaned down until his lips were near my ear.
“Don’t make me embarrass you in here, milaya. Not when it’s still gon’ end with you leaving with me.”
Pulling back, he cupped my face and pressed a kiss to my forehead. A frisson of desire spiked with a touch of fear trilled up my spine. There was also anger—was that his signature move? That forehead kiss? His eyes were wild, stormy, promising something I wasn’t sure I was ready for.
“If you’re ready, baby,” I said, giving him a wide, fake smile that I turned on Nikolai. “It was nice to meet you.”
He bowed slightly, then winked. “Same, Ms.—excuse me—Mrs. Sidorov.”
My husband whirled me around that room enough to say bye to his parents and my relatives. My messy little sister pressed her cheek to mine and whispered, “Ooh, you finna get it.”
On the other side, Ev murmured, “Call me when you can walk again.”
I wrinkled my nose at them.
“He wish,” I muttered.
The grasp on my hand tightened. I looked up into my husband's expressionless face.
“Nah, shorty. No more wishing,” he said, voice low.
But serious.
I looked at him, one eyebrow raised. I'd wait though. Juvie and Mikhail made their way toward us.
“I'm driving? Cuz look like you and Ms. Theory of Relativity need some privacy. If you want me and Misha here to catch a ride, let me know, OG,” Juvie said.
Mikhail’s head snapped toward him, surprised Juvie knew the Russian diminutive of his name. Juvie looked at him smugly.
“I study a lil Russian, too, droog (friend).”
“Get the car, Julien,” Targen ordered, before damn near pulling me into the hall.
I glared at him as he backed me into the wall, then caged me against it.
“I wish, huh?”
“Targen—”
“Nah, Ms. Miller. This night will end just like I want.”
I swallowed.
Hard.
Because I didn't know if that was a threat…
Or a promise.