11. Arsen
11
ARSEN
“So beautiful! I’m amazed you can stand with those diamonds around your neck, Natascha.”
I recognize the source of the sniveling compliment without even needing to look over. Replace “drugs” with “diamonds” and Lorraine Henley is the human equivalent of a top-tier sniffer dog.
Lorraine herself is dripping in gaudy champagne diamonds that only marginally distract from her horse-like features and fence-post physique.
“Were they a gift from your husband?” the woman presses, running a finger along Natascha’s necklace as though she just can’t keep her hands to herself.
Natascha smiles coyly. “Arsen does love to lavish me with surprises.”
The grilled quail we just consumed for dinner is in danger of coming back up again. There’s only one woman I’ve lavished with presents in the last four months, and she isn’t in this ballroom.
I turn my back on the two witches and find a quiet corner where I can pull out my phone and disappear behind it before anyone dares approach me.
“Arsen! There you are.” I must not quite manage to keep my feelings buried because Dominik shrinks back like I just spat fire at him. “Socially drained already, are we?”
I was drained before I even put on my tux tonight. What’s left doesn’t even count as running on fumes. I want to be anywhere else but here.
“Kira hates these things, so I left her at home. It doesn’t look like you’re going to be any better company.” Dom joins me in the shadows. “Where’s your better half?”
“My lesser half,” I correct. “She’s out there peddling what little she has to offer and lying to anyone who will listen about how madly in love we are.”
Dominik clocks her standing by the garish ice sculpture loaded with fresh shrimp. She’s surrounded by a mob of older men, all of whom are either staring at her diamonds or her breasts. The sight stirs nothing in me.
If they want her, they can have her.
When I can’t watch anymore, I turn to Dominik. “Well? Are you going to make me ask?”
Dominik’s jaw tightens. “Would it have killed you to come today?”
My second has made his feelings on my arrangement with Laila more than clear, but that doesn’t stop him from refreshing my memory.
“You know the terms of our arrangement.”
“She’s been to every single doctor’s appointment alone.”
“You’ve been with her.” He’s one of the only people I’d trust with the responsibility.
“But I’m not the one she wants there.”
Has she said that? I wonder.
“Which is precisely why I’m keeping my distance. Going would send the wrong message.”
“That you care about your daughter? Gee, how horrible.”
“That I—” I break off mid-sentence, eyes fixed on him. “Daughter?”
Dominik nods. “You’re having a girl. Congratulations.”
Well, I’ll be damned. For some reason, the possibility of having a girl has never even crossed my mind. I could imagine a little boy who looked like me. But a little girl with Laila’s blonde hair and blue eyes?
I’m fucked.
“The scan went perfectly,” he adds. “She’s a healthy baby.”
I watch Dominik, waiting for him to offer up some information about Laila. What was her reaction to the news? Was she emotional? Did she ask about me?
It’s clear Dom isn’t going to breathe a word, though, so I nod. “Good. That’s all I need to know.”
Dominik sighs. “Arsen?—”
“Excuse me, Dom,” I cut him off as Lucio Galotti makes a beeline towards Natascha. “I better go rein in the hellion before she shoots her mouth off to the wrong person.”
I dodge Dominik and snake my way through the crowd towards Natascha and Lucio.
The last time I saw the man, he jeered at me as I walked past the metal bars of his cell. Send your grandfather my regards, molodoy volk.
What a difference a fresh shave and a well-made suit can make.
“Lucio,” I greet.
If he’s surprised to see me, he doesn’t show it. “Arsen Adamov, as I live and breathe. How long has it been?”
“Five years and four days.”
“Have you really been out for five years already?” He smiles like he doesn’t wish I was still trapped in a cage. “Amazing.”
“I was under the impression you wouldn’t be out for another four, at least.”
He runs a hand over his bald, tattooed head. “I was released early. Good behavior.”
“I doubt that.”
Lucio laughs. “Now, now, Arsen. You can’t still be holding a grudge. That was a lifetime ago. I was simply following orders.”
Natacha clears her throat and peers between the two of us. “I take it the two of you know each other?”
“We were acquaintances,” I explain reluctantly. “In prison.”
Her bedazzled chest flushes a deep mauve. I can’t say that I blame her—I never talk about what happened there.
“Perhaps, now that we are both out, we can be friends?” Lucio suggests with a charming smile. “After all, your grandfather and I were very close.”
“That’s reason aplenty to keep our distance.”
Natacha looks thoroughly confused now. “Yeremy Adamov was a great man. My father speaks very highly of him.”
“Did you ever meet him personally?” I ask.
“Well, no, but?—”
“Then count yourself lucky. Come on, Natascha. It’s late and I’ve had enough of this circus.” I give Lucio the smallest of nods. “Lucio.”
He folds neatly to the side with a slight bow. How the tables have turned. Then again, it’s much easier to intimidate a seventeen-year-old prison inmate than it is to go toe-to-toe with the billionaire pakhan of the Adamov Bratva.
“We’re actually leaving?” Natascha hisses. “Now?”
“Stop whining and keep up.”
She does stop whining and she does keep up, but she fumes silently as I lead her out of the ballroom, walking fast enough that we can’t be lassoed into unnecessary conversation.
The moment we’re in the elevator, she smacks her hand against the gold railing. “I was having a good time!”
“I thought you hated coming to these things with me. Or so you keep saying.”
“I bought this necklace special for the occasion,” she protests. “And the dress is new, too.”
“Glad to know my hard-earned money is going to good use.”
“Please. Your money comes from the grandfather you seem to hate so much.”
I turn my glare on her, even though this is my fault. I revealed a sore spot by admitting my dislike of Yeremy. The more information Natascha has, the worse she is to be around.
I swallow down a retort and grit out. “I’ll be passing Riviera Heights. I’ll drop you off.”
Gedeon is waiting downstairs for us in the Bugatti. Apart from Dominik, Ged is the only other vor in my inner circle that I trust completely. Which is why he’s frequently on Natascha Duty.
It’s also the reason he receives a special monthly bonus ever since I married her.
The moment we’re in the car, I disappear into my phone, pointedly ignoring how Natasha is staring daggers at me. The woman won’t win any awards for subtlety, that’s for fucking sure.
“Aren’t you going to ask me how my night was?” she snaps at last.
Without looking up, I drawl, “Do I ever?”
“Three people asked me if we were going to have a baby. The news is circulating.”
“I expected as much.”
“You could’ve prepared me. I barely knew what to say!”
“Say we’re having a baby through a surrogate because the fiery, sulfurous environment of your womb makes it inhospitable for human life. Everyone will believe it.”
She gasps. “You… you…”
“Asshole?” I supply generously. “Bastard? Mudak ? Take your pick. I invite them all. Probably deserve them all, too.”
She answers by snatching my phone out of my hand. “What the hell are you reading so damn intent?—”
She breaks off mid-sentence, the fury growing as she reads. I’m not about to grab the phone back. I learned a long time ago that partaking in juvenile antics with Natascha is a losing battle. She’ll always win.
Dominik has a saying about it: Never wrestle with a pig. You both get covered in shit, but only the pig enjoys it. He’s never been more on point.
“You’re reading about her ,” she spits with a disgusted sneer.
The edge of possessiveness in her voice and the pained curl of her lip is surprising. “I’m doing research. She’s my surrogate.”
“ Our surrogate, honey ,” she snipes. “She’s carrying our future baby… girl, huh? Figures the little whore couldn’t even give you a boy.”
My hand twitches, tempted to wrap around her throat just to give myself a moment’s peace.
“Let’s get one thing straight,” I grit. “This baby is my child.”
“You think I want anything to do with this test tube brat?” she cackles. “I’m happy to have the thing taken care of by nannies and maids. And the moment it’s old enough, I plan to ship it off to boarding school somewhere extremely far away.”
It.
“You will not be involved in the decision-making. If my daughter goes to boarding school, I will decide when and where.”
“What’s the alternative? Keep the kid here? If we’re going to parade around like a proper family, that would mean I’d be forced to spend some time with the little beast. That is the way you’ve designed this model family of ours.”
I glare at her, trying not to let her words get to me. She reaches up to fondle her diamonds again, undeterred.
“You may have been able to convince the whole damn world—including my father—that this surrogacy shit is smart. You may even be able to force me into claiming this kid is mine. But that’s where it ends. I will not be a mother to her.”
She flings my phone at me and flips her blonde locks over her shoulder as she turns to the window.
“Oh, and if I’m expected to field questions about this child to appease society and keep up the charade, I’m going to need an increase in my monthly allowance.” She peers at me over her shoulder, her eyes sparkling triumphantly. “It’s only fair.”
Pocketing my phone, I seethe in silence, a decision starting to take shape in my head.
Loathe as I am to admit it, Natascha is right. Our fa?ade of a marriage will extend to include my daughter when she’s born. Which means, like it or not, I will have to subject the child to my nightmarish wife.
Which in turn means one more thing: Natascha has overstayed her welcome in my world.