Chapter 31
Chapter Thirty-One
QUINN
“Jesus Christ, what now?” I mumble as we walk straight into more drama.
Bambi and two of her girlfriends are huddled together, sobbing as the other one is laid out on a stretcher, about to be wheeled out by ambulance.
Before I overthink it, I walk over. “Can I do anything?”
Kade coughs less than subtly, and I get the message. I wasn’t going to say I was a doctor and could fix anything happening with my eyes closed.
Bambi dismisses me with a flick of her wrist before dissolving into loud sobs. Her girlfriends huddle around her, and I leave them to find where my husband is.
“Do you think this level of drama is typical for weddings or just Russians?”
Santiago grins as he checks out the room, not answering me per se, but I get what he’s not saying too. Rolling my shoulders back and giving myself a pep talk about keeping it together for a bit longer, I walk to where Sergey and his associates are sitting. Aleksei is noticeably absent.
My arrival is ignored by everyone. I know it’s intentional, probably another reminder from Sergey of how I don’t fit into his world. I completely agree—I don’t—but I’m not the one who wanted to go into an alliance with Victor and agreed to this farcical union, so there is that too.
I’m here as a symbol of trust, an offering of goodwill, on an agreement that was put in place years ago by Victor and Sergey’s father.
Back then, perhaps because of what I did, or others simply caught on, a mysterious group called the Trinity Alliance emerged and were very aggressive in their vision for eradicating the practice of trafficking.
Victor and Sergey’s father had to go to ground, and their “agreement” was put on hold until the dust settled on their vile practice.
A timeline was agreed upon when they would restart with the same vigor they had originally.
In the meantime, Sergey’s father died, but the agreement didn’t die with him.
Maybe that’s why Sergey is acting like he’s the one being put out now that the deadline for the marriage is here.
I know the reasons I’m here—to save my sister and to a stop to the BS both Victor and Sergey are once again trying to resurrect, on a larger scale. Their global plans have started, and now I need to stop it.
Growing up within the polite but brutal realms of diplomacy, rubbing shoulders with the upper echelon of international movers and shakers, means I’ve seen these, and many other, games at play.
The constant double-crossing and deceit involved does my head in and is another reason I don’t want this life for myself or Marco.
If me being here, though, means he won’t ever be forced into this life or these situations, then I’m not going anywhere. At least until Sergey’s dead.
I mean, it was my intention to do that… it’s why I’m here. I guess I’d started considering other ways of dealing with the issue, weakened by meeting them. But I couldn’t live with myself now and not kill him, especially after the BS that I’m stuck looking at in this moment.
With my features locked down, my scent too, I stand like a statue. It’s nearly impossible to keep the disgust off my face as I listen to their conversation. I can’t understand a word they say, but all of them are guilty by association of the atrocity I’m staring at.
The girl laid out on the table like an ornament is easily under twelve. Her coloring is pale, but the blaze of red hair points to her being Irish, and not Russian, which only backs up Sergey’s claim these children in some way come from the Irish.
As much as I want to rush over and pick her up in my arms, I instead spend the time memorizing the faces and voices of the people around Sergey before I move on to remembering everything I can about each of the children.
The last child is my proof that my father is involved.
The boy shares similar coloring with Santiago and most of the people back in the place where I was born.
I can’t include myself in that because, of course, I was an anomaly, taking after my mother completely.
Her pale skin and freckles and caramel-colored hair are all I see when I look in the mirror.
Looks aside, I share ethnicity with the small boy.
I don’t need to look at either Kade or Santiago to read how repulsed they are; I feel their energy and emotions wrap around me, and if anything, it reconfirms the sense of rightness of our bond.
When I hear Santiago hissing under his breath, “I’m going to kill him,” I nearly fall out of character to comfort him, but Sergey decides that’s the time to acknowledge my existence.
Keeping my face blank and my eyes downcast, I wait to see what he does. Because he’s an Alpha, I can sense him coming closer. His scent gives him away too. Both act as warnings to me, which is in complete contrast to the signals I get from Santiago and Aleksei.
He stops in front of me. “Is this above you?”
“Sorry?” I ask, thrown by his sudden, unexpected question.
“You are ungrateful and ungracious. From the second you walked into my home, you looked down your nose at us. I expected more, since you are one of Victor’s, and I’ve already told him that.”
I fight against an urge to defend myself. Clearly, Sergey Petrov is a fucking idiot, but I’m not going to be the one to point this out to him.
“I’m sorry, Sergey. Please tell me what I can do to fix this.”
“Stop looking like you ate a lemon, for starters.”
I barely stop myself from bursting into hysterics at the absurdity of his comment.
Considering how bonkers everything has been, and how ridiculous everyone has acted since I landed here, I think I’m doing great.
I’m at a loss as to how he wants me to act, until I remember he is fucking Bambi, which means she’s my inspiration.
Brushing my hair and curling it in my fingers, I borrow her cues and expressions, transforming in front of him. With each small change I make to how I’m holding myself and acting, he responds encouragingly.
I look up at him through my eyelashes, being as coyly cute as possible. It’s a weird combination, but apparently, he likes it because his scowl isn’t as deep.
“Better. Now do something else with your hair.”
He looks like he’s about to touch my hair, and nausea pools in my stomach, but I’m saved from hurling on him when his phone rings. He walks off without a second glance, leaving me alone in the middle of our wedding reception.
I’m sort of at a loss as to what to do because hospitality is different everywhere.
If I was in my actual home, I’d be busy refilling drinks and making sure everyone has snacks, but doing that here would make it look like I don’t think Sergey’s staff are doing a good job, which he’d read as me being disrespectful.
Before I decide what to do next, he reappears, but clearly, he’s distracted and eager to leave. Which makes two of us.
As he passes, he clicks his fingers, and I dutifully fall into step as he moves to where the cake is. Grabbing a glass, he uses a spoon on the side of it, and as soon as he hits it a couple of times, the room falls silent.
He speaks in Russian and uses his hands a lot in places, but given the tone of his voice and the lack of anyone smiling or laughing, it sounds more like a eulogy.
He keeps talking long enough that I have to adjust how I’m standing, and of course, it coincides with his speech finally coming to an end.
Applause follows, but Sergey’s focus isn’t on them; it’s on me.
And it’s not hard to read the challenge in his eyes as he directs his staff to cut the cake.
It should be something we do together, symbolic of our willingness to share everything for the rest of our lives, but I guess everyone here now knows what he thinks of me.
But two can play at that game.
I click my fingers, stopping the staff from handing out pieces to our guests, and walk to the head of the line where the first slices are about to be offered. Taking two plates out of the servers’ hands, I smile demurely as I return to Sergey and offer one to him.
“This first piece is yours, husband. It represents our commitment to one another and is a symbol of how prosperous our union is.” I overemphasize that point, making his eyes twitch, but only I see.
“The second piece, I will store for our one-year anniversary. Thank you for a beautiful day and for being such a gracious man and making my wedding day one to remember.”
The crowd breaks into polite but stilted applause, unsure what I said, but I guess they understand the sentiment. And then, because he’s a prick, Sergey places the cake on a table behind him without taking a taste.
“You will stay here like a gracious wife until the last guest leaves.” He says it with way too much Alpha influence, twisting a simple request into something I can’t ignore. And he knows it, too, the satisfied smile on his face confirming it. “I have business to attend to.”
He leaves me frozen by his bark and walks over to a couple of the more important-looking people, shaking hands along the way.
The men he goes to follow him out of the reception.
And then, thankfully, the two women who were with the group remove the poor sleeping children, with the help of some of the staff.
It takes another three hours of me standing awkwardly and alone at my reception, but eventually, the only people that remain are the staff.
I’m so hungry, I feel sick, and my head is spinning in slow circles, but at least the whole shebang is done.
Making a beeline for the bar, I pull out three fresh bottles of sparkling mineral water, handing one to Kade and one to Santiago, because like me, they haven’t eaten or drunk anything for hours.
Sergey’s loyal staff who are still in the room, working, stay out of our way while I take a seat at the temporary bar. As soon as I’ve finished, I’m on my feet again, but I have to grab the back of the stool as a dizzy wave makes shooting stars spot my vision.
It’s not the first time I’ve experienced being lightheaded, though it usually happens after I’ve worked a stressful double or triple shift with no rest. Keeping my eyes closed, I take a couple of deep breaths before Kade is next to me, offering me his arm.
“Come on, Quinny, let’s get you to your suite.”
“I’m okay,” I whisper, stepping out of his reach. Not because I want to, but because there are people who have stopped working to watch our interaction.
Except, I’m not okay. A fire has ignited deep within me, and with each beat of my heart, it’s taking hold.
I inhale and exhale my way through another round of head spins.
They’re coming on way too fast. If I was alone with Kade and Santiago, I’d tell them what’s going on.
Instead, I call Roshka and Nalla close before walking off without a word.
I’ve barely managed to take a few more steps before another wave crests, and this time, it brings a small pinch of discomfort with it.
I’m displaying the first signs of going into heat, and I, of course, panic.
For so many reasons, I can’t go into heat here. I took medication to avoid this exact situation.
As soon as I reach the stairs, I break into a run. Behind me, I can feel Santiago and Kade responding.
“Quinn, what the fuck? Tell us what’s got you scared!” Santiago demands.
I twist mid step, unable to avoid answering him. I can’t use my words, though. I can’t afford for anyone else to know, but I guess he reads me perfectly when I point at my body, pouting and blinking away frustrated tears.
His eyes go comically wide for a microsecond, and then he snaps into Alpha mode. “Kade, get the door. Run straight into the shower, Quinn. Lots of cold water. I’m going to get you a bucket of ice.”
He stays so close behind me, I feel his concern as obviously as I feel his sweetened breath on the back of my neck. As soon as Kade has the door open, and we’re inside with the dogs, Santiago starts racing back in the direction we came.
“Quinny, tell me what I can do to help.”
“Find my medication. I can’t think where they are. Blue pills,” I grit out as another cramp rips my focus apart.
I don’t wait for privacy, driven by Santiago’s softly spoken command that I take a cold shower. I was going to, but I’m super sensitive to his designation, so my mind reads his suggestion as something I have to obey.
The moment the water hits my body, I sink down onto the bottom of the shower, letting it pour over me. All my energy wanes, and I’m humiliated beyond belief and so very angry that my body has betrayed me.
A low, rumbling growl reaches me, and I open my eyes, noticing the door open and both Santiago and Kade looking desperate to come in, but Roshka and Nalla are not moving an inch.
Any other time, I’d shove the dogs out of the way and welcome Santiago and Kade in here, but I can barely move a muscle. The only thing I can do is close my eyes and sink into the inferno taking root.