37. Sandrine
Sandrine
Imove through the newly constructed ceremony room of the north wing with Violet’s tiny hand tucked in mine. She is the only steady thing for me in this sea of strangers. And she seems to know everyone.
Kirill doesn’t restrict her movements throughout Iron Keep. She climbs into his lap while he negotiates million-dollar union contracts with punishment clauses.
I’m the one who’s new.
Voices trail behind us, not loud enough for Violet to hear over her singing the little songs she loves. They’re just not hushed enough to be ignored.
‘When did she get back?’
‘Where has she been all this time?’
‘I thought she was dead.’
‘I thought Kirill moved on with Tamara.’
Every comment lands as a punch to the gut. They collect in my head, piece by piece, piercing my skin like fine needles until I can’t tell which direction they’re coming from anymore. I keep my chin lifted, my shoulders squared the way I’ve practiced, the way Ksenia told me to.
Own the room.
Kirill chose you.
Only, he chose me once, for me. Then he chose me because of Violet. He didn’t choose me a third time. He stole me.
Violet continues to wave, humming this week’s favorite song under her breath, blissfully untouched by the growing unease of my heart. By this cruel undercurrent threading through the ballroom. I anchor myself to the soft tug of her arm, a reminder I have a purpose.
A mother to my daughter who is a Bratva princess. The mother to the future pakhan.
A woman in her fifties wearing a periwinkle chiffon dress stops to say hello to Violet.
By the conversation, I can tell this woman works in Kirill’s office, but she’s also married to a Vor.
It gives me a chance to scan the room. My gaze snags on more faces that mean nothing to me.
All while their eyes tell me they know everything about me. And Kirill.
After what feels like forever, I finally see him.
My husband stands near the far side of the ballroom adjacent to one of the bar carts set up for the event.
His dark vibe is pulsating this far out.
Something has him unhappy. His posture looks contained, like one contains a hungry lion.
He’s speaking to someone I can’t see thanks to Drago’s immense body blocking the person getting Kirill’s wrath.
Then Drago moves, and my heart lands in my throat. It’s Tamara Chernova. I gathered she is part of this brotherhood somehow, so it’s not a huge surprise she’s here. But she’s dressed like…me. And she’s talking to my husband.
A man she declared would be hers. Again. I hold my stomach and want so much to believe Kirill’s explanation of why he was with her a few months ago.
I keep watching. Kirill stands there, appearing to give her a chance to say something. Explain herself. Her mouth curves slightly, and he leans in just enough to put a lump in my dry throat.
We’ve been intimate, but Kirill maintains a distance in his heart that I can feel. He’s not over me leaving. And I have the head of the Greek Mafia on speed dial who could form a rescue party.
I have no plans to go anywhere. Not without my daughter, and I would never separate her from her father. Kirill and I loved each other once. We looked happy in the video, but he’s different now, so am I.
His rise to pakhan was a distant inconvenience for us five years ago. Now it’s here. He has to be a different man.
Not like his father. Who, from what I’d heard, kept mistresses all over this city.
Kirill just stands there with Tamara. I expect he should steer her toward me because I am owed some kind of apology for being ambushed.
If he won’t do it. I will. My feet move before I decide against it, but I forget I’m tethered to Violet.
“Mommy, ow.” She pipes out, and it stops me like a hand pressed flat against my chest.
“I’m sorry, sweetie.” I massage her arm. “Let’s go see Daddy.”
I pick her up and breathe in relief when her legs wrap around my waist, not kicking to get down.
Ksenia appears at my side as if she’s been observing me the entire time. If she saw me start to fall apart, the vultures, who want to pick at my bones so their Tamara can have my husband, must have seen it as well.
With questioning eyes, she asks, “Is everything all right?”
Her husband is the Bratva enforcer. Her life revolves around chaos.
I keep my eyes on my husband with another woman. “I need to speak to Kirill.”
Ksenia’s gaze flicks briefly toward the bar cart, her eyes narrowing when she sees her brother with Tamara.
Exhaling, she turns to me. “It’s nothing.”
That explanation doesn’t help because it doesn’t feel like nothing. I put Violet down so my daughter can’t hear.
“She was supposed to be his wife tonight,” she adds softly. “My father chose her. Everyone knows it was an arrangement. One that Kirill did not uphold.”
“He told me he used her as a decoy. He forgot to mention she was the woman he was supposed to marry before me,” I say, feeling sick, my worst fears realized.
“I suggest you ask your husband to explain that.” She moves her burgundy gown aside to grip my hand. “But be careful, Sandrine. I’ve never known Kirill to hurt a woman. But my brother is a dangerous man. He can hurt people in ways without causing physical pain.”
Her warning stops me briefly. She’s seen a side to him that I haven’t. Not this time anyway. What had I seen before?
I watch them again, a burning sensation coiling, restless under my skin.
“Why her?” I whisper.
“Her father was Papa’s enforcer. It’s the Volkov tradition to secure loyalty through marriage. It’s why I’m with Drago, who was Adrian Chernov’s second.”
That name tickles something in my brain. It was buried somewhere in the puff pieces. CEO, Head of Security, Finance Minister. These are the public titles for men who are killers after dark.
“Let it go tonight,” Ksenia says gently. “You’re witnessing the one thing Kirill has waited for his whole life. He bled to be here. To be here with you, most of all.”
My heart is so heavy hearing that I’m part of the magic Kirill feels tonight.
I want to say something else to Ksenia, but Tamara turns away from Kirill.
I catch her gaze sliding over the crowd with intense focus until it lands on me.
She blinks tears away, and her lips tremble as she meets my stare.
What did Kirill say to her?
I hold her gaze for a fraction of a second longer to send her a message loud and clear. If she wants a war, she’ll get one.
Eyes narrowing, she walks until she’s escorted out of the ceremony room. Hmmm.
I blink, watching everyone in this room. While they were at parties like this eating cake, I was in a state-run facility with no memory, eating baloney sandwiches and two carrot sticks for dinner most nights.
The edges of my sanity begin to fray under the pressure of too many unknowns jamming me in at once. I exhale slowly, my hands empty now without Violet’s needy arms wanting to be held.
Around me, voices buzz around the party. Men finish their drinks, straighten their coats, and leave the ceremony room. Drago kisses his wife on the forehead and leaves.
“The other coronation,” Ksenia says with an exhale.
“Other coronation?”
“Where the pakhan sets his ruthless agenda. And tests his men.”
“How… How long does that take?” I glance down at Violet, who’s starting to look sleepy.
“As long as he needs.”
So, the life Kirill was born into is unfolding exactly as it was meant to.
With a wife, he was not supposed to marry.